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[giannascott]

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[literary-motif]

Prologue

In which plans are made upon your return to London. ~4,300 words

Overview // Author's Note

The city had barely changed since you had been here last. The streets were almost black with soot from the chimneys of homes and factories, and the dark clouds rolling over London felt more like omens of bad luck than the product of its booming economic success. Nothing had changed at all.

You walked up the steps to the place you had not called home for years, pushing open the sturdy wooden door only to hesitate in the entrance hall.

It was deserted.

The fading sunlight was kept out by the fastened shutters, allowing only a fraction of the warm orange to stream in through the cracks in the old wood. The welcoming atmosphere of the house you remembered so vividly was only a far echo now, unrecognizable as you looked around the empty room, letting your bag fall to the ground with a loud thump that echoed uncomfortably. 

Where was everyone?

You had expected to find several people scurrying around as they always did. Your mother was so obsessed with keeping up appearances. She would strut through the house and bark a string of nonsensical orders at the poor servants she had requested follow her every step.

Her vanity was laughable, and you had used to joke that in her deluded fantasy, she was pretending to be Queen Victoria herself with her court of ladies. 

The vase with freshly cut flowers had been a particular point of pride for her, and she always requested the most expensive ones to be bought only to flaunt your family’s wealth. She required the dark blue curtains of the windows to be fastened with a specific knot she had glimpsed once in the queen’s palace.

The floor had to be spotlessly shining at all times, even after your father returned from mingling with his friends and enticing them with his lofty plans of investments, dragging the soot and dirt from the London streets into the house and dirtying the tiles that had been scrubbed on aching knees for the better part of the day. 

You looked down at your shoes, scoffing at the immediate feeling of regret crashing over you.

It had been too long since you had been here last, but not long enough all the same. The memories and sentiments the house and the city dragged up in you were better kept buried. 

Leaving the bag by the door, you walked into the entrance hall, taking a closer look around. The flowers on the coffee table at the foot of the stairs were wilted, filling the air with a stifling odor. You turned towards one of the windows, opening it wide and pushing aside the shutters. 

It disturbed the dust on the curtains. The particles floated around the room, catching the gentle yellow light of the setting sun and making you wonder just how long it had been since someone had cleaned.

You turned your gaze towards the dark city outside, the smog rising in the far distance where the heart of the country’s economic success lay. Your jaw clenched. Even in the golden rays of the setting sun, London could not hide its bleakness and the dirt it was overflowing with.

You longed for the countryside. You long for the confines of your studio in Paris, far away from this life of exploitative riches and the screaming poverty outside your front door. It made you itch to leave as soon as possible, the reminder of why you left almost painfully burning in your chest. 

The quiet greeting you, as you faced the house again, was not peaceful, but it felt like evidence that perhaps some things had changed since you had been here last — almost five years to the very date. You cursed quietly, pushing away the melancholy that had snuck up on you. 

“Theodore?” you called into the silence, expressing some of your annoyance at being called away from your new life abroad. “I’m home,” you muttered in disdain, waiting for your brother to appear and tell you what ‘urgent matter’ had him insisting on your presence in London. You felt it had something to do with the darkness in the entrance hall and the dust on the curtains.

A heavy door shut somewhere overhead, and you looked up in time to see familiar golden curls poking over the banister as he approached it hastily. His face twisted into a dazzling smile when he saw you. “Da Vinci!” he called, almost tripping over himself as he took the stairs two at a time. 

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, catching him as he nearly fell down the last few steps. He pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you against his chest as you buried your head in his shoulder and breathed in his familiar scent. “I’m so glad to see you,” you said, your voice muffled. 

You had missed him dearly. Despite your many invitations, he had continuously declined to visit you in Paris, citing his alleged responsibilities at home or his engagement to his soon-to-be wife as an excuse.

It felt good holding him in your arms again after so long. Faintly, you could hear the elevated flutter of his heart beating quickly. You chuckled, happy to see him as well. The longer you stayed in the embrace, the more you noticed the restlessness he seemed to exude. 

Theodore was trembling faintly in your arms, his hands roaming your back as if he could not bring himself to stay still. He seemed nervous, almost afraid. You lifted your head, drawing back to look at him properly. 

The dark circles under his eyes looked like he had not slept these past days. His usually so expressive eyes were dulled, the excitement and energy within them dimmed with exhaustion you had never seen on him before. 

“Theodore,” you began in concern, but he shook his head with a twist of his lips that you could only guess was supposed to be a reassuring smile.

“Fine. I’m fine,” he said with conviction, not reassuring you in the slightest. 

He was a terrible liar, and with the evidence visible on his face, you did not know why he bothered at all. Still, you did not push. “What is the matter with ‘needing me urgently’?” you asked instead. Raising your hands to gesture to the bleak room you stood in, you could not hide your confusion. “What is going on?”

Theodore averted his gaze, clearing his throat before inhaling shakily. His lips twisted into a tight smile again, and he nodded nervously. The silence stretched on as you waited for him to explain. 

“Yes,” he said eventually, running a hand through his hair and looking around the room to ensure nobody was lurking in the desolate emptiness, “my letter must have come as a surprise. I would have explained more— I wanted to, but the matter is sensitive. You see, I—” 

He shook his head quickly as if to disperse unpleasant thoughts and closed his eyes to take a deep breath. When he reopened them, he was calmer, and his eyes softened as he looked at you. 

“I know you would have rather stayed in Paris,” he said, taking your hands and giving you a sad smile. It expressed both his gratitude and guilt at seeing you in London. “I’m sorry to drag you back. How— How have you been?”

You looked at him for a long moment. 

Paris had not been what you imagined. No matter where you went, your dissatisfaction with the world around you never vanished. You found solace in your art, losing yourself to the brushstrokes and colors on the canvas until the deeply seated longing inside you was quenched to an extent, only to find it returning with a vengeance when you resurfaced from drowning yourself in beauty and the picturesque. 

Misery was an old friend, one that never wavered from your side, no matter how successful you became or how admired your artworks were. You had stopped looking for fulfillment or contentment long ago until it felt like misery herself was leaning over your shoulder, taking your wrist and guiding the brush across the canvas. 

Happiness was never sufficient to create a meaningful work or seep into a life and suffocate the devouring longing for more. You had found that melancholy, sorrow, and misery were. 

“Well, brother,” you said. To your surprise, you meant it. “And you?”

He chuckled tiredly, releasing your hands to lead you towards the stairs. “Mostly well, until last week,” he said, his tone souring. “It is why I—” He stopped abruptly. You bumped into his back with a huff. “Where have you been?”

You looked past his shoulder to see a figure standing on the landing, staring down Theodore with dark eyes and an even darker scowl. “In the garden,” she said dismissively, and your eyes widened as you realized that the woman clad in the deepest possible shade of black was your sister.

“Lizzie?” you asked incredulously, earning only a nod in greeting.

Her straight black hair hung loosely over her shoulders. It was disheveled as if she had run her hands through it repeatedly, and you blinked away the memory of her excitedly thrusting ribbons into your hands, pleading with you to braid it. 

You could hardly reconcile the image of the bright and adventurous young woman you had kept in your mind all this time with her dark and brooding self you now saw before you.

She had changed so much since you had left her behind on that porch with tears in her eyes, begging you not to go. It had been so long since she had replied to your letters.

“Why do you look like you came from a seance?” you blurted out, at a loss of what else to say.

Her mouth twitched into a minuscule smile. “You have been gone for too long, Picasso,” she said, the barest hint of amusement seeping into her monotonous voice as she looked you up and down. “Seances are on Thursdays. Welcome to London.”

“Elisabeth!” your brother said sternly, raising his index finger in warning. It did not have the desired effect. Elisabeth snorted at his attempt to scold her. “I better not find any residue of your activities in the garden again. You know how frowned upon—” 

“I know, Theodore,” she interrupted him, sauntering towards the library nonchalantly and leaving you both standing at the top of the stairs. “I cleaned up. Believe me, I’m the last of your worries right now.” It sounded more like an ominous warning than a reassurance. She disappeared behind the door. The lock snapped into place, the sound echoing loudly in the empty hall.

Theodore sighed. “She spends too much time with these books,” he said, shaking his head. He gestured towards the study, opening the door for you. 

It had not changed much from how you remembered it. One wall was taken up by an enormous bookshelf, nearly overflowing with thick volumes. The dark wood of the desk before the window had lost some of its shine, and the papers thrown haphazardly on its surface were in a disarray that your father would have despised. 

“Have you taken over the study?” you asked, sitting in the armchair opposite the settee and nodding towards the desk. 

He gulped, his hands suddenly unsteady as he passed you the tea. 

“Theodore?”

The sound of the fragile porcelain pieces scratching against each other made you frown. You eyed his shaking hands, wondering what you had said to upset him this much. 

He quickly set the cup on the table between you before he spilled his tea. “Not by choice,” he whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on the tea. “I asked you to come back because I need your help. Our parents—” he hesitated, gaze flickering up to meet yours before anxiously darting across the room. “They are gone.”

“Gone?” you asked, not understanding the gravity of the situation. “Gone where?”

Theodore threw up his hands in frustration, leaping from his chair to pace around restlessly. “Just gone!” he exclaimed, wincing at his volume and looking around anxiously. This was driving him up the walls, turning him into a nervous wreck. “They left with— they left. I don’t know why. I don’t know where.”

You set down your tea, taking in this piece of news. Despite their brutish dominance over the household, both your parents were very mindful of the family’s standing in society. It was unheard of for them to disappear without a word. It would lead your reputation to ruin.

“What happened?” you asked. This made no sense at all.

“I have no idea,” Theodore said, sinking back into the settee and burying his face in his hands. “They just left.” 

He straightened a moment later, clearing his throat and retrieving his tea. You saw the shift in him, the facade he put up to appear in control of a situation that overwhelmed him completely. 

The neverending game of pretend he played was brought on by his misguided sense of duty. To his eyes, being the oldest meant carrying all the responsibilities, shielding you and your sister as much as possible to take care of things himself. He wanted to be perfect. He needed to meet the expectations your parents pushed onto him relentlessly to earn his place and justify the life he had. 

Theodore was always scrambling to obey, never stepping out of line for fear of falling from grace — and seeing him now slowly crumble and cave under the pressure thrust upon him made your heart ache.

Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, indeed.

You leaned back, closing your eyes and wishing for a moment you had chosen to remain in selfish and blissful ignorance in the city of your dreams, with paint staining your fingers and indulging in the pleasure of being the second-born to its fullest extent.

“Does it matter why?” Elisabeth asked from the doorway, making both you and Theodore jump. Neither of you had noticed her walk up, her footsteps as quiet as a ghost’s. “They were never pleasant to have around, and we are better off without them. Theodore can manage the estate on his own. You have your life in Paris. What are we worrying about?”

You turned to look at her, holding her impassive gaze as you wondered when she had gotten so frigid. “They are our parents,” you said. While a part of you resented them, you still wondered what had become of them and why they had suddenly decided to disappear without a trace. It was hard to imagine that Elisabeth did not care about them at all.

She scoffed, flopping down next to your brother on the settee. Leaning forward, she stared at you intently as if trying to catch you out in a lie. She had gotten cold. You suppressed a shudder. Was this resentment she harbored towards you the reason she stopped replying to your letters?

“Oh please,” she said, an unfamiliar fire burning in her eyes that made you wonder if you were wrong about your assumption of her again. 

Perhaps she really did not care. 

“Mother threatened to disown you in as many words every time you talked, or have you forgotten that? ‘Stop wasting your time with frivolous things!’ or whatever it was she spewed when she caught you painting. You might as well have died when you left. It would not have made a difference to them. What’s there to miss?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, knowing she was right. The harsh look in their eyes when you said goodbye that day and the sneer of your father — “Don’t bother returning” — was a memory you had tried to bury long ago. 

Their disappearance was peculiar nonetheless. You tried to think up reasons that could have led them to finally snap, inspiring them to turn their back on their comfortable lives in London. Was it the longing for something exciting? Was it the haunting feeling of the city’s long nights? 

Did their circles of friends not entertain them enough anymore? Did they grow sick of your brother’s desperation in tryingto please their unattainable expectations? Could they no longer stand the sight of your sister’s dark eyes glaring at them when she returned from speaking with the dead?

Had they decided to abandon your siblings to live selfishly somewhere far away where nobody knew them, and they were free to do as they pleased under the secure protection of their anonymity?

Had they picked up a canvas on their way to call themselves artists?

The parallels made you sick. You averted your gaze, ashamed at the understanding that a part of you had for them.

“That’s not the issue,” Theodore said, running his hand through his hair. His golden locks were in disarray, and he rubbed his temples tiredly as if to ward off a headache. “I couldn't care less about where they went. Elisabeth is right. There is nothing to miss. The problem is how it makes us look. It would jeopardize our standing if word got out that they just left. It is unheard of!”

You nodded, swallowing your guilt to focus on the problem at hand. “We need an excuse for their absence,” you said, picking up your tea to take a sip. You needed to think up a plausible reason.

“And one for their deaths,” Elisabeth added, deep in thought. Her nonchalance about never seeing them again had you in awe. 

You had made your peace with not having them in your life anymore when you left. There was only so much of a relationship you could maintain with people who seemed to despise every day you spent pursuing your dream. They had not bothered to reply to your letters — you doubted they read them at all — but you knew throughout your absence that they were well in London. Your brother had written occasionally, keeping you in the loop of family happenings that you acknowledged but did not particularly care about. 

It was enough to know they lived in safety, far away from you. This novelty of being uncertain if they were even still alive felt different. You hated not knowing what had happened.

“Simple,” Theodore said, taking a sip of his tea. He nodded to himself, reviewing the story he had constructed in his mind and making sure it made sense.

You raised your eyebrow. Elisabeth scoffed, waiting for him to continue. Nothing about this seemed easy in the slightest.

“They embarked on a trip to Greece. Mother always wanted to go. They visited Athens. They insisted on visiting Crete and got killed in one of the uprisings. We tell everyone they decided to travel on a whim — or because of father’s deteriorating health. He had been complaining of an ache in his bones, yes, Elisabeth? — and apologize profusely for them not saying their proper goodbyes.”

Elisabeth laughed at that, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms. “That is so absurd it might actually work,” she said in amusement. 

“On some later date, we will feign to receive a letter from local authorities informing us of their deaths. We will act shocked, lower their coffins into the ground symbolically,” Theodore continued, waving his hand in the air as if burying his parents was nothing but an inconvenience, “and save face in society as the poor orphans who are lucky enough to be endowed with estate, land, and property. That will be the end of this, and we can continue as if nothing happened.”

“Good thing Picasso’s return will keep the drawing rooms gossiping and marveling for at least a week,” your sister said, satisfied with the plan. “Nobody will think to question it.”

You stared at the rich brown of the coffee table, trying to find any fatal flaw in the made-up story. “What if they come back?” you muttered. “As far as we know, they are not dead. They could come back.”

A tense silence passed between you.

Theodore looked to the ground, opening his mouth to speak. Elisabeth beat him to it. “We kill them,” she said monotonously, her face devoid of any emotion other than fierce determination. You choked on your tea. She was deadly serious. 

He blanched. “That— that will not be necessary,” he stuttered. “They are gone for good, trust me.”

“How do you—?” 

“Just trust me, Elisabeth!” he snapped. 

She raised her hands in mock surrender, glancing at him as if she suspected something. 

“Apologies, I— It’s a lot right now,” he sighed, setting down his cup of tea. He winced, hissing in pain and touching his forehead. “I’m fine,” he said when he caught your concerned stare and rose from his seat. “We are invited to the Alderton’s soiree in approximately” — he pulled out his silver pocket watch — “twenty minutes. I suggest we get ready.”

Elisabeth hummed, making a show of dusting off her dress as she rose as well. “As much as you know I love soirees, brother,” she said sarcastically, earning a low groan from Theodore, “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. You two have fun making the Lords and Ladies” — she bowed mockingly — “believe our little story. I have a prior engagement this evening.”

“What could possibly be more important than saving us from ruin?” he asked pointedly, silently resigned to going without her. The last time she had accepted such an invitation must have been years ago.

“Things beyond your comprehension,” she said darkly, her eyes glistening with passion. “Also,” she added, disappearing behind the door to retreat to the library, “I am waiting for a delivery. Good luck.” 

Theodore sighed, gripping the back of the settee and allowing himself a moment to breathe. He lowered his head until his forehead rested against his hands.

You placed a hand on his back, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Since when has she been like that?” you asked. 

He raised his head slowly, glancing over his shoulder to look at you. “Later,” he said tiredly, straightening again. “We should not be late. I will call for the carriage.”

It was only when you were sitting on the barely comfortable cushions of the carriage that brought you ever closer to the Alderton’s estate, that you realized there was still dried paint under your fingernails. 

It was the light blue you had used for the sky on the canvas half-finished and now surely gathering dust in your studio. 

“Elisabeth has taken to the occult lately,” Theodore said, smoothing down his black vest and trying to fix his crooked bowtie. 

You batted his hands away, loosening the knot and retying it neatly. “So she said. What was that about seances?”

He sighed, shrugging. “I have no idea, honestly,” he said, breaking into a fond smile as you brushed a bit of dust from his tailcoat. “Thank you.” He tilted his head to look out impatiently before glancing at his pocket watch. He nodded, satisfied that you would arrive on time. “She told me something about a failed ritual during dinner a few days ago. I did not dare inquire further, but it devastated her. She locked herself in the library for days after that.”

“I see,” you said hesitatingly. Your confusion at your sister's peculiar interest was overshadowed by concern for her.

What was she trying to summon? Why did it mean so much to her? 

Theodore winced again, his expression twisting into one of pain. 

“How is your headache?” you asked, wishing you could do something to relieve his pain.

Your fingers twitched. You wanted to run them through his hair soothingly like you used to. He had always been susceptible to headaches when the stress crashed over him like a wave, pulling him under until he drowned in it.

“We can turn around. Or drop me off,” you said, “I will take care of tonight. You should rest, Theo.”

He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said, giving you a small smile. “I can manage, don’t worry. I've had worse.”

You searched his gaze but chose not to argue. “Alright,” you sighed. Leaning back, you waited for the estate to come into view. “What has society been like recently? Is there any news I should mind?”

“Well,” Theodore said, trying to be cheerful, “Lady Bingley recently took a liking to theater, and she won’t shut up once she starts talking about the stage. Lady Fairhurst has taken a lover in Piccadilly, much to her wife’s indifference. Still, she gets irrationally defensive when the street is mentioned, including its shops. It’s quite funny, but her aggressive defense turns the conversation very draining. Lord Houghton is as obnoxious as ever. He made investments in China and is urginganyone who will listen to do the same.”

“I heard the Qing Dynasty has become unstable,” you mused, brushing down your clothes as the light of the manor came into view. “The Chinese population has grown tired of Western meddling, I have been told. It seems only a matter of time until they fight back. The missionaries are especially unpopular.”

“Do not tell him that,” your brother chuckled. 

The carriage came to a halt in front of the manor. His hand shot out, hovering over the door handle. 

“Remember our plan,” he added, looking at you one last time with a smile that almost seemed genuine, “and don’t let all the praise for your art go to your head.”

Annotations // I. The Symposium

[missrosegold]

you met me at a perfect time

Synopsis: You’d always hoped that you’d eventually get closer to your attractive next-door neighbor with the shitty box-dye job. You just wished it was under different circumstances. 

Word count: 9K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem reader)

Warnings: Zombie!AU so the usual: corse language, death, sickness, violence, blood. So please Minors or Ageless blogs please DNI. This is rated 18+

This is for @medusashima rise of the dead collab event!

This was so much fun to write! I have a soft spot for MHA and zombies, so writing for both was a treat!

As this is a Zombie Apocalypse AU, I’m going to take it one step further and say that no one has quirks in this. That being said: Touya never burnt up and turned into Dabi, but he still uses the name on occasion, and is the implied black sheep of his family. He still has all of his piercings, He’s not losing those.

There isn’t really a happy ending to this, be forewarned.

Not gonna lie: I really do want to write more for tattoo artist!Dabi. He’s so hot.

Likes and reblogs are always apricated! I hope you enjoy <3

The outbreak started on a seemingly average day in May.

The day had started off normally enough. You’d woken up early to go get the mail and do a few things around your apartment, since you knew your roommate was going to be working late that night and you figured you’d utilize your day off to do something productive.

You slipped on your shoes and headed downstairs to your building’s mailbox, taking the stairway to the first floor. You unlocked your unit’s mailbox and gathered up yours and your roommate’s mail, casting a glance to your left so you could see out of your building’s glass entrance. You frowned slightly at the sight of wet concrete and dark skies as you shut your mailbox and locked it.

It was the middle of May but it had been unseasonably rainy so far. You had just moved to the area a few months back and your roommate had assured you that this district’s weather was normally sunny and warm during the spring months, but you had yet to see it.

You were just about to turn around and head back upstairs to drop the mail off, but you saw something that made you pause.

Your neighbor one floor down from you, a kind middle-aged gentleman who lived in unit 312, was standing outside in the parking lot at front of the building, swaying lightly from side to side as he peered down at his reflection in a puddle.

That was odd. Your neighbor, while not overly outgoing, had never acted like that before. He was just… standing there, swaying as if he were drunk or in some sort of trance.

You don’t know why, but something told you to go check on him. It wasn’t like him to act like that. Sighing, you opened the door and stepped outside, slowly making your way towards your neighbor who had yet to acknowledge your presence

“Mr. Takashi?” you called out hesitantly. “Mr. Takashi, are you alright?”

The man said nothing in return as he continued to look down at his distorted reflection in the puddle.

Fuck. You think inwardly. The man might be having some sort of medical emergency. If that was the case, you’d have to call somebody. Just as you were pulling out your phone to punch in the non-emergency number, the man in front of you finally seemed to take notice of you and his head jerked up violently to stare at you.

It took everything in you not to recoil at the sudden movement, but the thing that really has you worried, are his eyes

The skin around them is sunken in and so dark it looks almost black. The whites of his eyes have yellowed and a strange sort of haze seems to be lingering over them, one that you know he didn’t have a few days ago when you had exchanged pleasantries with him in the hallway. The next thing that hits you is the smell.

You can’t tell if it’s his breath or body odor but whatever the hell it is, it hits you like a punch to the gut and you have to fight with yourself to NOT cover your nose and back away in disgust.

It smells like something is rotting. Like a corpse that’s been left out in the sun for far too long-

“Mr. Takashi, are you okay?” You ask him again, urgently this time. He still hasn’t responded to your questions, and now you’re getting seriously worried. You call out to him one more time, and he seems to snap out of the trance he’s in. He blinks and looks around, confused, before his gaze shifts to you, but you notice that the haze hasn’t cleared in his eyes.

“Oh… hello… you’re the girl from floor four, yes?”

“That’s me.” You confirm, still unsure of what to make of his strange behavior. “Are you okay sir? You’ve just been standing out here staring off into space. I’ve been trying to get your attention, but you didn’t answer me. Are you feeling well?”

“Oh… m’fine.” He slurs slightly. “Just haven’t been feeling myself today. But I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure there isn’t someone I can call for you?” you press gently. “Maybe we could call someone to take you to a doctor’s office?”

Your neighbor is silent for a few moments and you realize that he’s staring off into space again. You can’t be sure if it’s just a trick of the light, but it looks like his eyes are cloudier than they were before—

“Mr. Takashi?” you try one more time and his head turns in your direction unnaturally.

“Oh m’fine. Just haven’t been feeling myself today. But I’ll be okay.”

What the fuck is going on with him? You think to yourself. Why is he repeating the same thing again?

Almost as if he can read your thoughts, the older man shakes his head and pushes himself away from you. “I’ve gotta go.” He mutters as he shuffles past you on unsteady legs. “Not feeling good. See you later girl.”

You watch, concerned, as he stumbles back towards the building and disappears inside, still looking like he’s in a fog. Nothing about that whole exchange felt right. Everything about it, from the way he spoke to you, to the way he moved, was wrong, but you can’t place what about the interaction has you so on edge.

Something about your neighbor is very, very wrong. But you don’t know what it is, or who you could even tell. After a moment of silently watching him stumble into the building, you glance back up towards the dark sky and put a hand over your eyes, squinting upwards.

It looks like it’s about to rain. Hard.

The first dop of rain that hits your cheek confirms your theory, and you dart back inside for cover. Once inside, you look around the lobby for your neighbor, but he’s all but disappeared.

Hopefully he’s gone back to his apartment, you think to yourself, as you make the trek back up to your floor. You don’t want to run into him stumbling around the halls. You hope that he’s just incredibly tired for some reason and that’s why he’s acting all out of sorts, but something tells you that’s not what’s bothering him.

The whole exchange has you so preoccupied, that you barely register the door to the unit next to you open, and someone step out to lean heavily against the doorframe.

“You okay there Doll? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You damn near trip and stumble over your own feet at the sound of a familiar, raspy voice and you quickly right yourself to make eye contact with your next-door neighbor, hoping to god that he didn’t see your blunder. Judging from the playful glint you see in his very blue eyes; you know he did, and suddenly, all your concerns from earlier fly out the window.

Your neighbor next door in unit 401, is an interesting guy to put it mildly.

You don’t know much about him, only that his name is Touya, but he tends to go by Dabi depending on who he’s hanging around, and he works as a popular tattoo artist in the downtown area. Apparently, he’s apparently something of a master with ink and piercings alike. Almost all visible skin on him from the neck down is tattooed, and you know he’s done most of it himself.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t harbor something of a crush on the man.

He is unfairly attractive, in the unconventional sort of way that would have made your high-school self swoon. He’s tall and lean, but has a good amount of muscle to him – you’ve stared at the definition in his arms while watching videos of him tattooing clients on his Instagram page long enough to know that. His ears have multiple piercings in them each, and he has quite a few facial piercings. You’ve never found them particularly attractive on people before you met him, but they suit his face nicely.

One fun fact about him that you’ve learned recently, curtesy of your roommate, is he dyes his hair. You used to think his inky spikes were natural, since the shade suited him nicely, but as it turns out that’s not the case according to her. He must do it himself though, because the last couple of times you’ve seen him, his roots have been getting progressively lighter to the point that you can’t ignore it anymore.

You haven’t been able to speak to him much aside from the occasional small talk when you inevitably cross paths in the hallway. You tend to work early to late, while he works late in the afternoon till even later at night then you, so it’s rare for you to meet up like this. He must have the day off too.

“Hey Touya… or, is it Dabi?”

He snorts, sending you a wicked grin as he takes a drag of his cigarette. “Touya’s fine, Doll. I don’t make pretty girls call me Dabi. That’s reserved for clients and my asshole co-workers.”

Right. He’s probably tattooed his fair share of less than pleasant people in his line of work. You probably wouldn’t want them knowing your full name either, if you had his job.

Fuck, did he just call you pretty?

“You know you shouldn’t be smoking in the hallway. Mrs. Honda will have a fit if she catches you again. I heard her screaming at you from down in the lobby last time.” You shudder as you think of your building’s superintendent. For a woman in her mid-sixties who couldn’t be any taller then five feet, she could be really scarry when she wanted to be.

“That old hag won’t do shit to me. I pay my rent on time, which is more then I can say for some fuckers here.” Touya mutters around the cigarette, but he still disappears into his apartment, presumably to put out the cigarette, before returning to lean on the doorframe.

He looks you up and down for a moment, seeming to mull over something in his head, before he juts his chin at you. “What’s your plans for tonight?”

Well, that was new. Touya never asked about your personal life, or if you had anything else going on aside from work before. Was he asking because he was curious, or--?

“I think I’ll be staying close to home tonight. It’s been a while since I took it easy. What about you?”

“Might be going out with some of the guys from work for dinner tonight. Probably won’t be late though.” The hint of a smirk pulls at his lips. “If I get back early enough, you and I should do something.”

Oh. That was unexpected. Unexpected, but not unwelcome.

“You wanna do something with me?” you clarify. He nods, the sly grin never leaving his face.

“Why? I’m not saying no, but we’ve never been able to have an actual conversation up until now. Suddenly you want to do something with me?” You ask and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I’ve had my eye on you since you moved in next door Princess. Not my fault that we work opposite shifts. Besides, I thought for sure you would’ve noticed me checking you out with how often I’ve caught you staring at me.”

You cough and look away, not wanting him to see how flushed his comment had made you. Goddamn it. Had he really been watching you this whole time? How could he be stupidly attractive and preceptive? It wasn’t fair.

“Anyways, I figured it was about time to make a move, since you clearly weren’t going to.” Touya continues with a smirk, caging his arms back behind his head. “I have the day off and it looks like you do too. You should come over later tonight after I get back and do something with me.”

You cross your arms over your chest and shoot him a teasing grin, trying to recover. “Oh? Like what? You gonna let me re-dye your hair or something? I think your roots are starting to show.” You squint at the crown of his head, where you can see the tell-tale signs of lighter coloured hair starting to grow out from underneath the dark, spiky strands.

Touya groans at your observation and runs a hand exasperatedly through his hair, ruffling it. “Don’t remind me. I haven’t had the chance to dye it again.”

“What is your natural colour anyways? I thought it was black. You wear it well.” You tell him honesty. 

Touya shoots you a grin. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

He laughs. “Come over and see for yourself.”

“Maybe I will.” You tease back. “All depends on when you get back from dinner with your friends though. I’m not a two-in-the-morning-visit type of girl, and I know how late you like to stay out.”

It’s not far from the truth. Sometimes you’ve heard him stumbling back into his apartment well into the early hours of the morning. Probably getting back in from drinking at one of the clubs you know he frequents, or doing god knows what else.

He snorts at your comment, but the playful glint in his eyes doesn’t leave. “Shouldn’t be out too late this time. I’m telling you, Princess, if you get lonely tonight, you know where to find me.”

He closes the door to his apartment without another word.

 That night everything went to shit.

Your roommate didn’t come back to the apartment. That was the first thing that tipped you off that something wasn’t right. You knew that she was working late, but it was pushing three hours past her normal end time, and you were starting to worry.

You try to call her several times, but every call went straight to voicemail, so you eventually gave up on that endeavor. Same with texting. All of the texts you send her garnered no response so after a while, you stop that too. You hope she’s with a friend or maybe she decided to go out after work like she sometimes did, but you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that was building in the pit your stomach.

Trying to distract yourself, you flip on the television and it went right to your local news. The news woman is standing outside of a hospital, reporting about multiple patients all showing similar signs of an infection that seemed to be caused by an unknown pathogen, before she was suddenly shooed away by several firefighters.

As the camera pans away from the woman and flicks back towards the hospital, you remember thinking that the hospital looked vaguely like the one about twenty minutes away from your apartment building, before it suddenly erupts into flames.

An explosion in the distance rattles the windows to your apartment, and you bolt over to the closest one without thinking. The vibrations from the blast are still vibrating through your apartment as you peer outside in shock.

Sure enough, you can see the tell-tale glow of a massive fire in the distance. Several skyscrapers have blocked your view of the actual hospital, but you know it’s ablaze. Suddenly, you’re very thankful that your building isn’t directly in the city and that a large park separates your home from the major core, because you can only imagine how chaotic the downtown is right now.

Shuddering, you rip your eyes away from the window and move back towards the T.V. feeling numb all over. The scene has shifted back to the main news room, where you can see the news anchors trying desperately to figure out what’s going on, and re-establish contact with their fellow reporter and her crew at the hospital.

Inwardly you know it’s hopeless. If they’re not dead, they’re badly injured.

You’re just about to shut the T.V. off and reach for your phone to call your roommate one more time, before you’re interrupted by the sounds of loud, uneven knocking at door leading into your apartment.

For some reason, you feel your blood freeze in your veins at the sound. You pocket your phone into the back pocket of your sleep shorts and move hesitantly towards the door. You approach slowly, making sure you don’t make too much noise as you put your eye up to the peep hole to see who’s at your door.

It’s Mr. Takashi from floor three.

The peep hole doesn’t let you see much aside from his fuzzy figure, but biased on what you can see, he doesn’t look good. You can’t be sure, but you think there may be blood on him—

“Sweetheart? Sweethart are you in there?” the man croaks out, swaying side to side in front of your door. “I need… I need some help… Can you let me in? Please let me in…”

Goddamn it. What the hell was going on tonight? Normally you would have simply called out to him that if he was in need of medical attention, you’d call him an ambulance, but based on what you just witnessed on the T.V. and the explosion outside your window, you don’t think the hospital is an option anymore.

“Mr. Takashi? What’s wrong? What can I help you with? Are you hurt?” you finally manage to call out to him from behind the safety of your door.

“I need help… I feel… I feel really sick… please… you’re the only one that cares enough to ask…”

Fuck sakes.

Your bleeding heart is going to get you killed one day, you’re certain of it.

You suck on your teeth as you weigh your options. You know this is a bad idea, you feel it in your gut. He hasn’t been acting right since you saw him this morning, and you have no idea what seems to be bothering him now. You’re not remotely qualified to deal with what’s currently bothering him, whether it be physically or mentally, but if something awful happens to him, and you could’ve possibly done something to help him, you know that you won’t be able to forgive yourself.

So, you grit your teeth and unlock your front door, allowing your downstairs neighbor to stumble in as you shut the door and lock it behind you.

“Okay, what seems to be the problem—” Your voice dies off as the man slowly turns around to look at you, and you have to fight off the familiar urge to cover your nose and hold back vomit.

You don’t know how, but somehow, he looks even worse than he did earlier. His skin looks like it’s lost all of its parlor and looks almost translucent in the soft lighting of your apartment. His eyes are glassy and the parts of his irises that aren’t milky, are bloodshot. Now that you’re able to get a better look at him, his clothes look like they have splatters of blood strewn across them, but you can’t tell if they’re his or not…

If that wasn’t concerning enough; that foul, rotting stench that was wafting off him earlier is ten-fold now, and it almost brings you to your knees. You try to breathe through your mouth, but it does little to help you as you fight back the gag reflex you feel trying to kick in. You have no idea where the stench is emanating from. You can’t see any open wounds on him, though it does little to explain how the red stains on his clothes – which you’re almost certain is blood – got on him. You already know that whatever’s wrong with him, it’s far out of your capabilities.

“Mr. Takashi? Mr. Takashi, I don’t know if I can help you.” You manage to get out as you watch him shuffle aimlessly around. “Have you tried calling a doctor? Anyone? I don’t think I’m equipped to help you properly—”

“Can’t get through… all busy… I feel so sick.” He mutters, looking at you, but at the same time, looking straight through you, as if you’re just an obstacle in his way.

“I- hold on, what’s all the stuff on you?” you gesture to rust coloured stains covering him. “Is that blood? Is it yours? Are you bleeding somewhere?” You’re not sure if you want to know the answer, but if he’s not going to tell you what’s bothering him, you’ll have to get it out of him some other way.

“Dead, all dead… not for long.”

You’re not sure if you like that answer… if you could even call it that.

“Who’s dead?” you press. “Mr. Takashi? Did you do something?”

But your neighbor isn’t listening to you. You watch, horrified, as his eyes seem to glaze over completely, and suddenly his breathing becomes labored to the point you’re not sure if he can breathe at all.

“Shit.” You groan as you grab his hand without thinking, and drag him through your apartment to you and your roommate’s shared bathroom. You have to force the door open a bit as you drag him in the small bathroom and rip open the medicine cabinet on the wall. The hinges on the door have been getting stuck recently and your landlord has yet to fix them, despite how many times you and your roommate have complained.

You’re not really sure what you’re looking for as you search through your cabinet frantically. Something, to help clear his airways preferably, but neither you nor your roommate are asthmatics, so you know your chances of finding useful medications are slim to none.  

Suddenly a strange croaking growl cuts through the air behind you, and you turn to face your neighbor, only to freeze.

He looks feral. Deranged is a better word for it. His mouth is hanging open, and his limbs are jerking sporadically, but you don’t see any light behind his eyes… what you can see of them anyways. He looks like he’s about to collapse, but something is holding him up, like a puppet on a string. He looks like a corpse that recently died. Maybe he is one, you don’t know.

“Mr. Takashi?” you try once, hesitantly.

His head jerks in your general direction. Then he lunges.

You barely have any time to react, let alone scream for help as he claws at you, groaning unintelligibly as he tries to sink his teeth into your skin. You manage to hook an arm under his jaw, shutting his mouth and driving his face away from yours, as you use your other hand to try and subdue his own, which are trying to find purchase on your body.

Thankfully, he isn’t a big man, and he may even weigh less then you do, so he’s not particularly hard to ward off – especially considering he doesn’t seem to have the best control over his physical faculties at the moment – but you still struggle to hold him off long enough to put some space in between you and him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Get. Off.” You snarl as you shove him to the side hard enough that he falls into your shower tub, bringing your shower curtain down with him. You don’t stop to catch your breath; you bolt out of the bathroom before he can untangle himself and slam the door shut behind you.

You’re suddenly grateful that the bathroom door jams whenever it’s fully closed. You have a hell of a time with it some days, and you’re hoping that it’ll be enough to hold him off for now.

But what if it isn’t enough? What if he comes at you again?

You don’t stick around long enough to entertain the idea. You’re bolting through your apartment, and are out your front door before you know it, slamming it shut behind you, as you press yourself against it, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

You look around your hallway and you immediately wish that you hadn’t. The place looks like a war-zone. Several of the overhead pot-lights are flickering ominously above you, there are signs of a possible struggle further down the hall way to your left, and the walls across from you look like they have blood smeared across them.

It’s alarmingly quiet. Too quiet for a place the looks like someone may have been murdered in not long ago.

You strain your ears to see if you can hear any of your other neighbors in their units, but all you’re met with is silence. The abnormal quiet does little to comfort you. Normally, you can always hear some sort of noise from your neighbors out in the hallway, even when they’re in their apartments. You don’t know why it’s so quiet now, but it has you on edge.

How the hell you didn’t notice the chaos that must have been unfolding outside your door is beyond you. You were so wrapped up trying to figure out where your roommate was, that you weren’t paying attention to anything else – now you’re paying for it.

The deathly silence reminds you you’re alone. You’re out in the open and you don’t have anything to protect yourself with. Going back into your apartment is out of the question, and you’re not particularly close enough with any of your neighbors to go pounding on their doors for help. (Something tells you they wouldn’t open their doors for anyone now anyways)

Except for possibly one.

You turn to your right where the door leading to the stairwell is. Across from the stairwell is the last apartment on your floor. Unit 401 – Touya’s apartment.

You wouldn’t call each other close. Hell, the first full conversation you’ve had with him was literally earlier today, but he did invite you over, and if his earlier comments meant anything, he’s had his eye on you for a while now. Maybe he’d be willing to help you—

A distant scream shatters the illusion of relative safety, and makes up your mind for you. You can’t tell where it’s coming from, but you don’t want to find out. You bolt over to Touya’s door and knock frantically on it, trying to be as quiet as possible. “Touya? Touya, are you home? If you are, please let me in, it’s an emergency!” you hiss, throwing a look over your shoulder to make sure that you’re still alone out in the hallway. Thankfully, you don’t see anyone.

Your tattooed neighbor doesn’t open the door. You start to feel a cold sweat break out over your body, and you knock on his door again, a little louder this time. You’re about to call out to him, until you remember he told you that he was going out this with some friends tonight.

Fuck, you don’t even know if he’s back yet. You can’t remember seeing him pull into the parking lot outside the apartment building, or hearing him pass by your door to get to his own. If he’s not home, you’re screwed. You’ve left your apartment and now are standing in the hallway, unarmed, wearing nothing but a loose t-shirt and sleep shorts. Not ideal for running for your life in.

You’re just about to raise your hand to pound on his door one last time, before the door to the staircase is violently ripped open and Touya comes bursting through it, gasping for air. His badly dyed hair is windswept and wet, presumably from the light rain outside. There is something thick and dark dripping from his jacket as he hunches over, panting like he’s run the whole way home, and maybe he has. All you know is the dark substance that’s now dripping onto the floor isn’t water. It looks suspiciously like—

Touya looks up, his blue eyes wild in the dim of the hallway, and meets your own startled ones. He blinks like he can’t believe that you’re standing outside of his door in nothing but your sleepwear, before his face suddenly shifts and he strides over to you.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” he hisses as he pushes past you to unlock his door and all but drags you inside his apartment, making sure to lock the door behind him before turning to you again. “Have you not seen what the fuck is going on out there?”

“No… I mean… What do you mean, what’s going on out there?” you parrot him, casting another nervous glace to the door behind you. “I’m more concerned about the weird shit that’s happening here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know Mr. Takeshi? One floor down from us?”

“Should I?”

“Well— it doesn’t matter anymore I guess.” You mutter darkly. “Point is, I think he’s really sick. He’s not acting right and he smells like something died.” Your nose crinkles in disgust as you recall the memory.

“He came pounding on my door out of nowhere and I let him in thinking he needed help, next thing I know, he’s trying to bite me! I got away and locked him in the bathroom, but I didn’t know if the door would hold, so I bolted out of my unit.”

You try and give him a smile. It doesn’t work. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I tried to see if you were home. Thankfully you showed up when you did. The hallway looks like it’s got blood smeared everywhere and I haven’t seen a single person all night-“

“He didn’t bite you, did he?”

“He—what?” you ask, caught off guard by his question.

“The dude in your bathroom, he didn’t bite you, right?” Touya asks impatiently, gesturing towards you. You shake your head.

“No, but he tried to. Why?”

“It’s not just him.” Touya juts his chin towards the front door. “He’s not the only one acting like that. I don’t know what it is, but it’s everywhere. They were downtown too.”

“There’s more people like him?” You groan, fighting the urge to panic at the news. What the hell was going on? Was it some mutant case of rabies, or was it something worse…

“Trust me, you haven’t seen half the shit I’ve seen.” Touya mutters as he crosses over to the windows on the other side of his living room, and pulls back the black-out shades covering them so he can peer out into the darkness. “Downtown is a fucking nightmare. People are biting people and tearing into them, doing all sorts of other nasty shit. It looks like fucking World War III has broken out, but with cannibals instead of nukes”

“The hospital close to here exploded.” You mutter, thinking back to that final news report. “Did you see it?”

“I felt it.” Touya corrects you with a grimace. “I was driving back here and was about two blocks away when it happened. I’m amazed the windows in my car didn’t implode. Shit was loud as hell.”

He lets the drapes fall back into place, plunging the room into darkness again and you hear him fumbling around in the dark for a moment, muttering obscenities under his breath. You hear a small click somewhere to your left and his T.V. turns on. The glare illuminates Touya’s lanky form and you see his brow furrow as he rapidly surfs through T.V. channels – all of them are broadcasting static.

“Shit.” He mutters as he tosses the remote down on the couch, raking a hand through his hair. “No T.V. That was fucking fast. The people on the radio wouldn’t shut the hell up about some viral sickness while I was driving back here, but I lost the channel about a block away. Couldn’t get any other stations to work either.”

“The radio stopped working as well?” Truthfully, if he hadn’t had told you, you wouldn’t have known. You switched to Spotify a while ago and never looked back, but the knowledge that the radio broadcasters have fallen silent, possibly for the last time, is chilling.

“Same as the T.V.” Touya grumbles as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps it and lifts the cracked screen to his face, scowling as he holds it out in front of him. “I don’t have any bars, do you?”

You may not have been smart enough to grab a knife from your kitchen before you ran out of your unit, but thank God your phone never leaves your side. You nod and reach into the back pocket of your sleep shorts and pull out your device. You unlock it and shake your head, holding it out so he can see.

“No, I don’t have any service and I can’t access the internet. It must be a provider issue.”

“Fuck sakes.” Touya snarls as he jams his phone back into his pockets. “No T.V., no phones, no radio. You know what this means right?” he looks at you expectantly and you nod, dread pooling in your stomach.

“We’re alone.”

“You got that right.”  Touya is silent for a moment. His gaze falls to his feet and then back to the covered window. He doesn’t look at you as he mutters “My brother works at that fuckn’ hospital.”

“Your brother?” he nods, still not looking at you, but you can see the worry shining in his eyes as he bites at his lip. You can see the outline of his tongue toying with one of the piercings in his cheek. He’s stressed. He doesn’t have to tell you, you know.

“Younger brother. He’s in school to become a doctor. He’s doing his residency there. I can’t remember what shift he’s on right now.”

“I didn’t know you had siblings.” You say. You don’t know how to comfort him, but you know it’s not a wise idea to let him linger on his brother’s whereabouts. Touya nods absentmindedly.

“I’m the oldest of four. My sister’s an elementary school teacher, my younger brother works at the hospital and my youngest brother’s still in high school. He’s supposed to graduate next month.” He frowns. “Haven’t spoken to them in ages aside from Natsu – brother at the hospital. Kinda regretting that now.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.” You tell him quickly, stepping closer to him in an effort to get him to look at you. It works and cerulean blue eyes turn to focus on you. You swallow and continue.

“Don’t assume anything until you get actual answers. Right now, nobody knows anything, but what I do know is that we probably shouldn’t stay here. I have no idea what’s going on out there, but if the downtown is as bad as you say it is, then it probably won’t be long until whatever it is makes its way over here.”

“It’s already here.” Touya mutters. “Didn’t you say one of those fuckers is locked in your bathroom?”

“Yeah.” You turn to eye the wall that separates your units and you swear you hear faint yelling and banging coming from the other side. “I don’t think I can go back over there.”

“No.” Touya agrees with a sigh, and he turns on his heel and disappears down his small hallway to where you assume his bedroom is. He returns a moment later with two backpacks and tosses one at you. “Help me pack some shit and we’ll get the hell out of here.”

“Where?” you ask him as he strides to his kitchen. You hear drawers opening and closing and cutlery being rattled around.

“My family home. It’s out in the country, away from the city. As much as I don’t want to pay my old man a visit, it’s the only other place I can think of that’s remotely safe. I can say hi to my mom at least, siblings too, if they’re at the house.”

“Would they be okay with me tagging along?” you ask hesitantly. You may have been neighbors for the past several months, but this man is still practically a perfect stranger to you. The most you’ve ever talked to him was today. He doesn’t need to do anything for you.

As if he can read your thoughts, Touya’s head peaks around the corner to stare at you, eyebrow quirked and shit: his eyebrows are a hell of a lot lighter than the ends of his hair. How you only noticed it now, is a mystery.

“Well, I’m not just going to leave you here.” He tells you with the hint of a smirk before he ducks back around to keep packing some essentials.

“As far as I know, you might be the only other unaffected person in the building. I might be an asshole, but I’m not that much of an asshole, Princess.”

“You think so?” you ask, peering into the bag, only to see an oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants staring back at you.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I didn’t see anyone living coming up from the parking lot, but there’s a whole lot of blood in the stairwell and our hallway doesn’t look much better—ah shit.”

You hear him hiss in annoyance and you put your bag down to join him in the kitchen. You round the corner to see him holding his shoulder, wincing slightly. He pulls his hand away after a moment and stares down at his hand.

His palm is covered in red.

He looks up and your eyes meet. “It’s not mine.” He says quickly, but the look on your face tells him that you don’t believe him. He shrugs off his dark leather jacket with a curse and you can see the shoulder of his white t-shirt is stained through with blood.

“It’s not all mine.” He tells you again, making you look up at him. He grimaces. “I got jumped by one of those assholes as I was getting out of my car. She didn’t bite me, but she put up a hell of a struggle.”

He pulls down the collar of his shirt for you to inspect. Sure enough, there is no bite mark, but there are two long angry red gashes that are slowly oozing blood down his inked arm.

“We need to clean that.” You mutter. “I don’t know what this is, or how it’s spread, but you don’t want that getting infected.”

“It might be too late for that.”

Your gaze flicks up to meet his and he looks away. “What?” you ask him quietly. “What did you say?”

Touya only looks away from you. “Forget it. Just… help me get some things together and then we can go.”

You pack in relative silence, the static from the T.V. acting as background noise as Touya directs you on what to pack. You ask about the spare change of clothes in your bag and he shrugs, muttering something about how you probably wouldn’t make it far in what you’re currently wearing.

It almost feels like you’re packing to go on a trip with him. You could almost trick yourself into believing it – if you ignore the muffled banging and inhumane snarls coming from the other side of the wall where your apartment is.

That’s not the only disturbing thing that you’re hearing either. The once quiet hallway outside Touya’s door is starting to come alive with the sounds of low groans filling the air. You swear you hear shuffling footsteps moving past the front door on multiple occasions, but every time you turn your head to look in the direction of the door, there’s nothing there. It does nothing to ease your nerves or help your paranoia.

What you’re really worried about, is Touya himself. His movements are slowing down, and he seems to be slightly uncoordinated as he shoves a set of knives into his pack. You hope it’s just pain from the claw marks on his shoulder that’s making him act strangely, but based on what you’ve already seen-

“I think that’s it.” Touya sighs, casting a look around his messy apartment. He breathes out through his nose, before reaching into his jacket pocket and fishes out his car keys with a small jingle. He looks at them longingly for a moment, before tossing them to you. You barely have time to react before he’s pushing his bag towards you as well.

“Those are the keys to my car. It’s parked near the front entrance. If you move fast and don’t get distracted, you should make it no problem.”

“That’s fantastic, but why are you telling me this?” You press, as you hold his keys back out towards him. “We’re going together. I don’t know where your family home is. If you want me to drive, I’m going to need directions.”

Touya laughs, but it’s not a kind one, as he shoves the keys back to your person. “About that… I don’t think I’m going anywhere Princess.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going to leave you here—”

Your words die in your throat as Touya aggressively shoves down the front of his shirt so you can see the gory scratch marks on him, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach.

They look so much worse then when he first showed them to you. The skin around them looks like it’s peeling back from the gashes, and seems to be turning black around the edges. It almost looks like the wound is starting to rot, but you don’t know how that’s possible. He only got injured recently. There’s no way that it could’ve gotten infected that quickly-

“Listen to me.” He almost begs you, snapping you out of your reprieve. “I’ve been feeling like shit since that bitch downstairs raked her fucking talons down my arm. I’ve had a fever since it happened and it’s not letting up.”

He points to the worst of the marks. “This happened an hour ago, and I’m already worse. I don’t think it matters if it’s a bite or not – if one of these things manage to get your hands on you, it’s game over.”

No. No, no, this can’t be happening. He can’t possibly be suggesting what you think he is.

He can’t be turning into what Mr. Takashi currently is. he just can’t.

“Touya, I can’t leave without you.” You start, quickly cutting him off as you see him open his mouth to protest. “I just moved here. I don’t have any family in the area, and I don’t know anybody else aside from you and my roommate, and she never came home, so you’re all I have now.”

You hate that your voice cracks at the end, but it’s true: you don’t have anybody else, and if he kicks you out now, then you’ll truly be alone.

You don’t know what’s scarier: the potential horde of crazed lunatics waiting for you outside, or the crushing loneliness of being by yourself in an uncertain world.

You’re not sure if you want to find out.

“I’m not going to tell you again: you need to leave.” Touya urges you as he thrusts the keys back into your hand, closing your fingers around them. “Shizuoka Prefecture, that’s where you need to go. My house is logged into the nav, just follow the directions and you’ll get there. My family will recognize my car. You’ll just need to explain to them why I’m not there—”

“Touya I’m not going.” You tell him firmly, setting his keys down on the counter next to you. “No one was prepared for this to happen. Not you, not me, nobody. Even if I do make it out of the building, I’m not going to last long on my own.”

“If you stay here with me, there’s a good chance that you won’t make it at all.” Touya warns with a breathy laugh, but you can see that he’s fighting back a grimace. His hand moves to cover his wound, but his movements are slow and shaky. If you focus on his eyes, you can just start to make out a familiar haze starting to cover his brilliant blue irises.

Fuck.

He’s sick. Not as sick as Mr. Takashi was, but you’re certain that he’s got whatever he had. Realistically, you know that he’s right and you should leave, put as much distance between yourself and him as you possibly can, but where would you go? Even if you made it to Touya’s childhood home, there’s no guarantee that his family would help you, not that you’d blame them. You’re as good as dead if you leave.

Granted, you might be screwed if you stay here with him, but…

“At least I’m with someone who I know.” You point out gently. “If the world really is going to hell, I’d much rather spend whatever time I have left with someone who isn’t a total stranger.”

Touya falls silent. For once, he doesn’t have a retort for you. Finally, he shrugs in defeat and slides down the wall closest to him, seemingly not having the strength to hold himself up any longer.

You try not to stare at the dark red streak he leaves on the wall behind him.

“If you wanna stay, be my guest, but if I do end up turning into one of those things, do me a favour and put me out of my misery, won’t you, Doll? Wouldn’t wanna rip your pretty face off.”

You want to laugh. The situation is so absurd. You think you may have tried, but a choked sob is the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

You’re dangerously close to the brink of tears, but you don’t want to cry in front of your clearly sick neighbor, knowing that your tears aren’t going to help anything. Touya, despite it all, is still as annoyingly preceptive as ever. He sighs heavily and pats the spot next to him.

“C’mere Princess, sit down before you have an aneurism.”

You cross over and slide down the wall so you’re sitting down next to him. Next thing you know, Touya drapes a heavy arm around you and pulls you into his side. “It’s okay.” He tells you in his gravely voice, even though you know it isn’t. “It ain’t your fault. Just… sit with me for a little bit, yeah?”

Of course, you would, you wouldn’t deny him that. You don’t think you’re in the right to deny him anything right now. You feel oddly indebted to him.

This was the first time that you actually got to hang out with your ridiculously attractive neighbor since moving here, why did it have to be when the world was going to shit?

“It’s not fair.” You mutter into his side, feeling like a small child. “I wish I could have met you at a better time.”

“Naw Doll, you met me at the perfect time.”

This time you can’t stop the tears you feel threatening to overflow, and they pour down your face silently as Touya holds you against him.

You don’t know how long you stay with him like that for, but you gradually hear the hallways outside Touya’s door become louder, as the stagnate air fills with the sounds of the undead. At the same time, you listen as your tattooed companion’s breathing becomes more and more labored with each passing minute.

You know what’s happening. He sounds eerily similar to how Mr. Takashi did in your apartment before he turned on you. You know you should move away from him, but you can’t bring yourself to leave his side.

He hasn’t said anything to you, but judging by the way he’s still tightly gripping onto your side, despite getting progressively weaker as time drags on, your presence is comforting to him.

You want to say something, anything, to bring him some small measure of comfort, but you regretfully don’t know him well enough to do so. Instead, you ask him the question that has been on your mind since your initial conversation with him earlier that afternoon.

“You never did tell me what your natural hair colour is.” You croak. Touya manages to wheeze out a laugh and presses a light kiss to your temple.

“White.” He murmurs softly in your ear. “It’s white.”

His chest rises and falls one more time before stilling, and your neighbor is gone.

You don’t know how long you stay there for. A part of you can’t fully accept that he’s gone, even as the arm around you grows heavy and limp, sliding down your back until it reaches the floor behind you with a muffled thud.

You feel hot, wet tears slide down your cheeks as Touya’s head lolls to the side, exposing the deep, ugly gashes in his shoulder. They’ve grown darker in colour, and the smell of meat on the verge of going rotten fills the air. It’s only when you can’t stand the smell anymore do you finally get up from your spot on the ground, but you don’t move far from him, you can’t. You don’t want to leave him like this, it’s not right.

You know that you shouldn’t stay here. You should grab his keys, and try your luck at reaching his car before your spotted by whatever’s lurking out in the hallways, or worse, before your neighbor potentially comes back as one of those… things.

But you don’t move from your spot. You run over all the possible variables in your head, and you come to the conclusion that regardless of whether you stay or go, you’re fucked.

You have no family close to your location that you could stay with, no friends either. You had let your roommate use your car tonight to get to work, and your doubtful that you’ll ever see it or her again after tonight, and even if you took Touya’s keys and tried to make it down to the ground floor to escape using his car, you have no idea how many of those creatures are out there waiting for you.

By the amount sounds you keep hearing outside the door, you can assume that it’s a lot.

You eye Touya’s keys. They’re still laying in the same spot on his counter, but you don’t make a move for them. What’s the point.

He told you to get to his family’s house in the country, but considering how the phones aren’t working, you’re not sure if his car’s navigation system would work either. Even if it did, and you were somehow able to make it to his car without getting attacked or bitten by the hordes of possibly infected people out there, there’s no guarantee that his family would help you. You wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t.

If you stayed here, you were fucked. If you left, you were definitely fucked.

Either way, you were going to lose, so you might as well pick the slightly less shitty option.

If you were going to die, then you were going to at least chose how, or rather, who was going to take you out.

So, you lean yourself up against the wall opposite to Toyua’s slumped over form, and wait.

You’re not sure how much time has elapsed, but a slight movement from Touya’s hunched over form draws your full attention to him. You watch as his arm, the one that was previously draped around your shoulders, jerks out at an odd angle, his fingers flexing and extending slowly. His legs twitch sporadically, almost as if something is shocking him, and a low growl emits out of his throat, deep and inhuman. Slowly, his head lifts from its crumpled position, and you watch as blurry turquoise eyes slowly lift upwards until they focus on your own.

They’re Touya’s eyes, but there’s no life behind them. He’s gone. This is just a hollow corpse that looks like him.

For a brief moment, you think about the set of knifes that are packed in one of the bags next to you. You contemplate about reaching for them, but you decide against it. You don’t think you could do it anyways, even though you know the creature that’s eyeing you up isn’t Touya.

You watch with silent tears pooling in your eyes, as the creature’s mouth pulls into a snarl, and forces’ himself up off the floor on unsteady legs. He shuffles over to you slowly and for every step he advances, you take one step back, until your back hit’s the opposite wall and there’s nowhere else for you to go.

He reaches for you and you slap his hand away with a sob. This creature may be your death, but you weren’t going to make it easy for him. If he wanted your life, he’d have to earn it.

Suddenly, one of the last things that Touya said to you before he succumbed to the sickness crosses your mind as the creature slowly advances on you. He never wanted to turn into one of these things. Hell, he even asked you to take him out if he turned.

You swallow shakily. You don’t want to. You really don’t want to… but now… you might not have a choice. Regardless of what happened to you, you won’t leave Touya as he was now. You’d honor his last request to you. Even if it ended up costing you your life.

The imposter reaches for you again, this time with both hands, and you shove him back with an angry snarl as fresh tears begin to run down your face.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s just not fucking fair.

A glint of light reflecting off the countertop catches your eye. Touya’s car keys are sitting innocently at the end of the countertop near where you’re pressed up against the wall. Due to your earlier hesitation, you won’t be able to grab the knives packed away in the bag before he’s on you, however Touya has numerous keys on his lanyard, some of them look quite sharp…

You twist to the side just as the creature reaches for you again. You duck under his outstretched arms and grab the lanyard, fisting the keys tightly in you hand as you try and keep your distance from the aggressive corpse that Touya has become.

An irritated rumble pulls from the imposters intricately tattooed throat, before he suddenly swings his whole body towards you and slams you up against the closest wall, knocking the wind out of you. He grabs your arms before you can recover, pinning them to your sides with a strength that you didn’t expect from a walking corpse.

You squirm and thrash, trying to claw at him, but in the end, you know it’s futile. You resigned yourself to this fate when you chose to stay with him despite knowing the outcome. At least you’ll die at the hands of someone you know. Not out there, alone and scared.

You cry out in pain as Touya sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder, tearing through skin and muscle as his canines sink in deep, locking him to you. You feel blood gush out from the puncture wounds his teeth have made in your shoulder, and run down your torso, staining your shirt crimson. His arms are still pinning yours to your sides, trapping you in some kind of death embrace, as you feel the strength slowly start to leave your body. The sickness that took him, already taking hold inside your body.

You feel your mind start to go fuzzy and your vision start to swim. You can’t tell if it’s from blood loss or the infection itself. In one last ditch effort to bring some measure of comfort to yourself, you weakly raise your arms up so you’re gripping Touya’s biceps in a mock embrace. You feel him growl into your shoulder, and his hold on you relaxes slightly.

You don’t hesitate.

With a strangled scream you rip the arm holding Touya’s keys out of his hold, and drive them into his neck. You hear Touya let out a choked sound of surprise as the keys pierce his jugular, and he retracts his teeth out of your shoulder, tearing the delicate flesh, leaving deep gouges behind in his wake.

He backs away from you, clawing at the keys that are buried deep in his neck, and you swear you see the fog in his eyes clear for a moment as he looks at you, gasping for air as blood fills his lungs. He falls to his knees, one hand extended out towards you, the other still clutching at the keys in his neck, before toppling over. He twitches, once, twice, and then he is still.

You let out a shuddering breath as you cover the gaping wound on your neck with your opposite hand. Blood is still pouring down your arm and chest, and you know that you probably don’t have long to live. You feel tears pool in your eyes as you stare down at Touya’s unmoving form.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp out as you feel the strength in your legs leave you, and you collapse to your knees next to him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to. I’m so sorry!”

You feel your vision start to swim and you gingerly ease yourself onto your side so you’re lying next to him, placing your bloodied hand in his outstretched one. The last thing you remember seeing before the darkness takes you, is Touya’s cloudy turquoise eyes, fixed unblinkingly on your dying form, and then everything fades to black.

                                                        FIN

[quirkle2]

more zombie au :] (1.2k words)

The odor of rot has joined the damp growth of life from pots. Even if some things die off without human aid, there are always stronger elements that thrive in their absence.

The aisles are overgrown. Ritsu brushes past the vines as gently as he can, wooden floor groaning under his worn soles. There’s a gap of empty space in the middle of each aisle that he slots through, eyes roaming the shelves of largely useless things. Stronger stems snag onto his backpack and he tugs distractedly while perusing the labeled pots along the tables.

The barn is quaint, and Ritsu thinks he would love to stay. Moss eats at the boards under his feet and bugs swarm around him in the hot air incessantly, but it’s peaceful and there’s a constant sprinkle of sound to his ears that have grown so used to silence. Whoever owned this place beforehand put up a few wind chimes indoors—they must’ve always had the front entrance open for customers.

It’s a quiet little homemade garden center, or something similar, on the side of the highway. It’s an overgrown property with something dead in the backyard that Ritsu refuses to acknowledge or let Shigeo near. The shingles and boards in the roof have been replaced with polyethylene sheets—a barn-turned-greenhouse, uprooted from the hay and cattle it likely used to house and settled back into the Earth to be a paradise for plants.

There’s a large branch hanging through a hole poked into the plastic overhead. It sways with the wind and the chimes that follow, and Ritsu whistles with the leadless melody and gives it a direction while he studies old seed packets.

They didn’t stop here for any particular reason—a garden center doesn’t have much for apocalypse survivors, but Shigeo has always liked overgrown things. He’d always enjoyed taking care of their mother’s plants back home, and then Reigen’s at the office. His brother likes the humidity of greenhouses and the smell of soil and dirt and must.

He sees the top of Shigeo’s head over the aisles, across the barn. He walks past a shovel hanging on the wall and yelps out a grunt when it clangs to the floor behind him. Ritsu shakes his head and smiles, running his fingers along faded price tags.

The feeling of greenhouses has always had this… wet fullness, to Ritsu.

When he breathes in it’s like he can taste the life that breathes out and it feels like a conversation, a question and an answer, both of which he’s not sure how to articulate. The leaves wave to him and he waves back, the once-active sprinklers pepper his skin with dots, with compliments, with proclamations they are eager to share. The vines weave between fencing just to reach him, just to talk.

He understands why Shigeo likes it, and why he’d always asked to accompany their mother on trips to get new seeds. Ritsu hadn’t really understood, then, how pretty it could be, how full it could feel.

Shigeo had always been right about loving the little things. Ritsu wishes he’d seen that sooner.

His brother ambles down the aisle ahead of him and he listens to the quiet patter of his sloppy footwork, moving around a table of seed trays. His whistles carry across the barn, sort of aimless in their own right instead of leading the wind and the chimes somewhere worthwhile, but the sounds soak into the overhead plastic nicely, so he keeps going.

He pulls back a layering of vines and leaves to scan the contents of another shelf, and then he notices Shigeo stop in his peripherals. His dirty shoes stay planted in the corner of his vision, leaves burying the toes, and Ritsu looks away from the products.

He means to say something, to ask him what’s up even if saying things to Shigeo very rarely results in productivity, but he stops when he realizes his brother’s head is… tilted.

He’s looking at him with as much inquisitiveness as his dulled down awareness can muster, pale eyes flickering across Ritsu’s face like he’s working out some puzzle. He instinctively stops whistling, brain lagging behind on this new info of this new behavior, and the sound fizzles out into a little huff of air that leaves the greenhouse feeling oddly empty.

Shigeo studies him for a moment longer, blinking slowly, and then he straightens his head out as Ritsu stares back. His brother’s gaze lingers there on his mouth, like he’s still confused, like he still expects something to happen.

Ritsu blinks once, twice. The wind chimes call as wind pokes at his greasy spikes, as it prods at the ends of his jacket and fills the silence with a different flavor of itself. The interest in the zombie’s eyes fades a little, gaze straying to the vines around them.

Very tentatively, Ritsu wets his lips and blows. The whistle grabs his brother’s attention immediately, and he’s suddenly tilting his head like a curious dog.

He can’t help the laugh that spills out and makes the whistle a mess of exhales. His shoulders shake a little and he hurries to keep the tune steady and consistent; a few seconds pass and Shigeo tilts his head the other way, exhausted eyes big and more alert than they’ve been in days.

Ritsu experiments, and ventures around with the sound—goes lower and higher and watches his brother twist his head back and forth like he’s trying to understand calculus. There’s something very innocent about it, about the look in his eyes that reminds him of when they were kids and their father would show them magic tricks.

It’s muted by the ever-present fog there in his pupils, but Ritsu thinks he sees a spark of that life in them, of that curiosity born from a mind that knows little. He gives him a simple sensation, a simple experience, and his brother is eating it all up like he’s four again, like he’s new and everything is colorful and unknown and big.

Ritsu watches Shigeo tilt his head back and forth, watches the rusty gears behind his window panes move. He changes tactics, because some sad part of him tells him to, and whistles Shigeo’s favorite song instead.

He remembers the name, but he doesn’t need the name because when he thinks of the tune he thinks of his brother, and that’s all that matters. It’s happy, because Shigeo likes happy music. It’s chipper and yet it meanders, like it’s willingly getting lost, like it’s wandering where it wants to and it’ll eventually find its roots again. It’s happy the whole time. The whole adventure.

Shigeo stops tilting his head, and the gears behind his eyes churn a little bit faster. His gaze clings to Ritsu’s and his brother makes actual eye contact, sinks his own being into Ritsu’s head when he’s least prepared for it. The recognition in his gaze has his soul souring.

He keeps whistling. He doesn’t want to stop, because Shigeo feels like Shigeo right now, and he doesn’t want that to stop.

His brother stares. Ritsu’s grief tints the music.

[lodish]

hi beautiful mutuals. please consider buying a small bottle of baby oil and one of baby powder too. they can be used for many things and are cheaper than products designed for those things specifically.

you can use baby oil as makeup remover, to fix ashiness on knees and elbows, to do a deep hydration on your scalp, and if you get a deep gnash, you can apply baby oil on top of the fresh scar often and it will reduce the long term scar appearance.

baby powder can be used in light amounts to remove oiliness from scalp, to sprinkle in shoes to lessen foot odor, as a powder for your cheeks + forehead to reduce oily sheen, and to use on your back in the summer to lessen sweating :-)

[magicpeachh01]

Hygiene tips for girls | I wish I knew earlier

Good hygiene can help you feel better and look nicer. It's okay if you don't know where to start, or if you need help dealing with changes your body is going through. Many young people go through this! Having great hygiene is as easy as staying clean, having good daily habits, and practicing a cleanly beauty routine.

METHODS

1:-Staying Clean

2:-Practicing Good Grooming

3:- Keeping a Hygienic Beauty Routine

METHODS:-STAYING CLEAN

1-Shower or bathe every day. Bacteria feed on the sweat and skin cells that accumulate on your body throughout the day – that's what causes body odor. Shower or bathe every day and use a mild soap to wash off the day's dirt.Especially wash and carefully dry your feet, face, hands, armpits, and bottom.

2-Shampoo and condition your hair. Shampoo your hair 2-3 times a week. Washing your hair too often removes the natural oil and can make your hair dry. Choose shampoo and conditioner that's right for you – whether your hair is dry, oily, frizzy, straight, or curly, there are many products that you can try.

3-Wash your face twice a day. Use warm water and a gentle, non-abrasive cleanser to wash your face in the morning and before bed. Use just your fingertips to massage the cleanser onto your skin – using a washcloth or sponge can be irritating. Don't scrub your skin hard. Rinse with warm water, and pat (don't rub) your skin dry with a clean towel.

4-Wear clean clothes. You don't necessarily have to wash your clothes every time you wear them, but always wear clothes without stains, wrinkles, and smells on them. If you get your clothes dirty or sweat in them, wash them before wearing them again. Wear fresh underwear and a fresh bra every day. Change socks as needed for comfort and to avoid bad smells. This may be more than daily, or it might be less if you only wore them for a few hours around the house without shoes

5-Wash your hands often. You should wash your hands regularly throughout the day, but especially after using the bathroom, after sneezing or coughing, before making or touching food, and after touching things that lots of other people have touched (for example, after handling money – think about how many people touch money!)

6-Carry small products around with you. Make a mini-hygiene kit to keep in your purse or backpack. Bring a packet of breath mints, gum, or a small bottle of mouthwash for after meals. Pack a small travel mirror, hand sanitizer, deodorant, tissues, menstrual products, and a small comb for everyday use.

7-Have good illness hygiene. If you're sick, it's important to practice good hygiene to protect others. Cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze. Wash your hands a lot, especially after coughing or sneezing. If you're vomiting or have a fever, stay home and away from others

METHODS:-PRACTCING GOOD GROOMING

1-Use deodorant daily. It's normal to have body odor, especially under your arms. Your armpits naturally sweat more once you go through puberty, and underarm hair can trap sweat and bacteria. Wear deodorant every day to feel and smell fresh. There are lots of different kinds of deodorant – roll-on, spray, stick, and those with or without antiperspirant (decreases sweating as well as covers odor). Some are perfumed and others are unscented. It's up to you which kind to choose.

2-Shave, if you want to. Whether you want to shave your legs, underarms, and private area is completely up to you. Long hair in your armpits and groin might trap moisture and odors, but showering regularly and keeping the area clean and dry should solve that. If you do shave, do it safely and hygienically.

3-Have good dental hygiene. Brush your teeth, floss, and use mouthwash at least twice a day – after breakfast and before bed. This decreases tooth decay, gum disease, and bad breath. Try to use toothpaste or mouthwash with fluoride. If you have braces or aligners, you may want to brush after every meal.

4-Clean your retainer or aligner well. Yeast and bacteria can live on your appliance or appliance case if you don't clean it well. Brush your appliance case every time you brush your teeth, and disinfect it once a week.

5-Keep your contact lenses clean. If you wear contact lenses, it's important to keep them as clean as possible to prevent eye infections. Don't just rinse them with tap water and reuse them, or reuse the same contact solution day after day – this is setting you up to put bacteria in your eye! Rinse your contacts well every time you take them out, clean your contact case thoroughly, and use fresh contact solution. Be sure to replace your contact case regularly, about every 3 months.

6-Don't share personal items. It's nice to share, but not when it comes to things like your toothbrush, razor blade, or hairbrush. Keep your personal hygiene items to yourself, and don't use other people's personal items. Also, keep your own towels and washcloths

METHODS:-KEEPINH HYGIENIC BEAUTY ROUTINE

1-Treat your acne. If you get pimples, use a gentle, non-abrasive, and alcohol-free acne treatment. Don't vigorously scrub your skin when you wash your face, because this takes away the natural oils and can make your skin dry, flaky, and can even cause more acne.Try to treat your acne naturally, or talk to your doctor about products you can use.

2-Don't overdo your makeup. If you feel self-conscious about your skin you might be tempted to go heavy on your makeup. However, wearing too much makeup can make your skin dry or oily and cause breakouts. Only apply light layers of foundation and use makeup minimally for a natural, healthy look.

3-Care for your nails. Keep your finger and toenails trimmed and free of jagged edges. Clean underneath your nails when you wash your hands (and feet), and use an under nail scraper to get dirt out from under your nails if you need to.Use sharp clippers or small manicure scissors to cut straight across your nail, and round out the corners in a gentle curve with a nail file. Use hand lotion on your nails and cuticles.

4-Wear some nice perfume, but not too much. If you want to wear perfume or body spray, go for it! Just avoid wearing too much. This can be overpowering and unpleasant to some people. Spray your perfume two to three times in front of you and then walk through it – this will give you a nice smell without being overpowering.

Thanks For Reading <3

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[dykeboi]

A little game of translation telephone. Original English edition, published French edition, my own English translation which I made without seeing the original. Birds of the World by Oliver Luther Austin.

English: The visitor to New Zealand who sees Kiwis in their native haunts today is fortunate. This is not because they are rare, but because they are so shy and retiring. They live in thick, swampy forests where they spend their days hidden in burrows or under spreading tree roots, and come out to forage only at night. But with luck, and in the "proper bush", as the New Zealanders call what little is left of the primeval kauri and tree fern forests, one may still here the shrill piping calls that long ago led the native Maoris to call them kiwis.

Roly-poly birds about the size of a large chicken, the Kiwis are the smallest of the primitive flightless birds. They differ from the other four families of living Ratites (birds with no keel on the breastbone) in so many anatomical features that their position in the avian family tree, other than close to its base, is uncertain. Their closest relatives seem to be the extinct Moas that shared New Zealand with them until about 700 years ago.

The three living species of Kiwis (two more are known from Pleistocene fossil deposits) are the only representatives of their family and order. They have dwindled in numbers over the past century. Part of their decline is attributable to the clearing of the New Zealand forests for agriculture, part to the introduction of stoats, weasels, opossums, dogs, and cats. Though early settlers hunted them for food, the Kiwis have since earned a warm place in the hearts of the New Zealanders and are now rigidly protected.

In appearance Kiwis are strangely unbirdlike, and seem to be all body, bill, and feet. Their short, stout legs are spaced so far apart that they run with an awkward rolling gait, like an ungainly mechanical toy. Their long, coarse plumage com- pletely hides their rudimentary 2-inch wings. They have neither wing nor tail plumes. Their contour feathers, whose lack of interlocking barbules gives them their hairlike effect, grow thickly all over the body except for a hidden bare patch on each side just under the ridiculous wings. Into this patch the kiwi tucks its head and bill when sleeping.

Kiwis are the only birds whose nostrils open at the very tip of the bill. They have a keen sense of smell, which most other birds lack, and apparently find the grubs and worms they eat mostly by odor. Their rather poor eyesight is com pensated for in part by long, hairy bristles at the base of their 6-inch bill. These are believed to have a tactile function.

Kiwis nest in underground burrows and, as in most ratites, the male does all the incubating. The chalky white eggs are enormous, about 5 inches long. They weigh almost a pound, practically one fourth of the female's body weight. The clutch is one, rarely two, eggs, which takes 75 to 80 days to hatch.

Probably no bird or animal on earth has become more symbolic of its homeland than the kiwi. The chief motif on the Dominion seal, it also appears on New Zealand coins and postage stamps. It is used as a trademark for textiles, shoe polish, flour, and a score of other New Zealand products. New Zealand overseas troops proudly call themselves Kiwis. Such sentiment is the kiwi's best insurance for surviving the drastic changes still being made in its environment.

Français: Il faut beaucoup de chance pour apercevoir des Kiwis sauvages dans leur milieu naturel. Non que les Kiwis soient rares, mais ils sont craintifs et se cachent. Ils vivent dans les forêts épaisses et marécageuses où ils passent la journée, dissimulés dans des terriers ou sous les racines rampantes des atbores, et ils ne sortent que la muit pour se nourrir. Mais il arrive d'entendre dans le "véritable fourré" ainsi les Néo Zélandais nomment-ils ce qui subsiste de la forêt primaire à kauris et à fougères arborescentes leus appel augu et flüté qui les fit appeler "Kiwis" par les Maoris.

Oiseaux rondelets, à peu près de la taille d'un gros poulet, les Kiwis sont les plus petits des Oiseaux primitifs inaptes an vol. lis différent des quatre autres familles actuelles de Ratites, Oiseaux dont le sternum est dépourvu de bréchet, par un si grand nombre de caractères anatomiques que dans l'arbre généalogique avien leur place serait située à la base. Leurs plus proches parents semblent être les Moas qui occupaient avec eux la Nouvelle-Zélande jusqu'au XV siècle environ.

Les 3 espèces actuelles de Kiwis (2 autres ont été retrouvées dans les dépôts fossiles du pléistocène) sont les seuls repré sentants de leur famille (Aptérygidés) et de leur ordre (Apté rygiformes). Leur nombre a diminué au cours du siècle der nier. Cette taréfaction est due en partie au défrichement des forêts de la Nouvelle-Zélande au bénéfice des cultures, en partie à l'introduction d'Hermines, de Belettes, d'Opossums, de Chiers et de Chats. Les premiers colons chassaient les Kiwis pour les manger mais, de nos jours, ces Oiseaux occupent dans le coeur des Néo-Zélandais une place privilégiée et sont l'objet d'une protection sévère.

A première vue, les Kiwis ont à peine l'air d'Oiseaux. Le bec et les pattes semblent plantés dans le corps et celles-ci, courtes et robustes, sont tellement écartées qu'ils tanguent en courant à la manière d'un jouet mécanique. Leur plumage long et grossier cache totalement leurs ailes radimentaires longues de 5 cm. Leurs ailes et leur queue sont dépourvues de plumes et le plumage dont ils sont couverts a l'aspect de poils en raison de l'absence de barbules entrecroisées, il est dense sur tout le corps à l'exception d'une plage dénudée de chaque côté, sous les moignons d'ailes. C'est là que le Kiwi rentre la tête et le bec lorsqu'il dort. Les Kiwis sont les seuls Oiseaux dont les narines s'ouvrent à l'extrémité du bec qui mesure 15 cm. Ils ont. Fodorat fin, contrairement à la plupart des Oiseaux, ce qui leur permet de découvrir les larves et les vers dont ils s'alimentent. Leur vue, assez faible, est compensée en partie par de longs poils raides qui exerceraient un rôle sensoriel et sont situés à la base de leur bec. Le nid du Kiwi est un terrier et, comme chez la plupart des Ratites, c'est le mâle qui couve. Les oeufs blancs, à sur face crayeuse, sont énormes (près de 15 cm). Ils pèsent envi ron une livre, soit un quart du poids de la femelle. La ponte se limite à un, rarement deux œufs, qui éclosent au bout de soixante-quinze à quatre-vingts jours.

Aucun Oiseau ou animal sur terre n'est davantage considéré comme le symbole de son pays que ne l'est le Kiwi. Celui-ci figure comme principal motif sur les armes de la Nouvelle- Zélande, il apparaît également sur sa monnaie et ses timbres poste. On l'utilise comme marque de fabrique pour des tex tiles, du cirage, de la farine et tout un lot d'autres produits néo-zélandais. Les troupes militaires néo-zélandaises séjournant à l'étranger sont fières de se faire appeler "Kiwis". Ces dispositions sentimentales à l'égard du Kiwi sont la meilleure garantie de sa survie, en dépit des bouleversements qui affectent toujours davantage son milieu naturel.

My translation: It takes great luck to see wild Kiwis in their natural habitat. Not because Kiwis are rare, but that they're shy and hide themselves. They live in thick, swampy forests where they spend the day concealed in burrows or under the creeping roots of trees, and only come out at night to feed. But sometimes you hear it in the "real bush" - as the New Zealanders call it, where it subsists in primary forest of kauri and tree ferns- their high and fluty call which made the Maori call them "Kiwi".

Plump birds, close in size to a large chicken, Kiwis are the smallest of primitive flightless birds. They differ from the four other extant families of Ratites, birds which lack a wishbone in the sternum, by such a great number of anatomical characteristics that in the avian evolutionary tree, their place would be at the bottom. Their closest ancestors seem to be the Moas which lived alongside them in New Zealand until around the 15th century.

The three extant species of Kiwis (two others have been discovered in Pleistocene fossil deposits) are the only representatives of their family (Apterygides) and of their order (Apterygiformes). Their number has decreased over the course of the last century. This rarefaction is due in part to the clearing of New Zealand forests for the benefit of crops, and in part due to the introduction of ermines, weasels, opossums, dogs, and cats. The first colonists hunted Kiwi to for food, but in our day, these birds hold a privileged place in the hearts of New Zealanders and are the subject of strict protection.

At first glance, Kiwis barely look like birds. The beak and the feet seem planted in the body, and the latter, short and robust, are so spread that they sway in running like a mechanical toy. Their long and rough plumage totally hides their rudimentary wings of 5 cm. Their wings and tail are featherless and the plumage that covers them has the appearance of fur because it lacks crisscrossed barbules; it is dense over all of the body with the exception of a bare patch on each side, under the stumps of the wings. This is where the Kiwi tucks its head and beak when it sleeps.

Kiwis are the only birds which have nostrils which open at the end of the beak, which measures 15cm. They have a fine sense of smell, contrary to the majority of birds, which allows them to discover the larvae and worms they feed on. Their vision, rather weak, is compensated somewhat by long straight hairs which okay a sensory role, and are located at the base of their beak.

The nest of the Kiwi is a burrow which, like the homes of the majority of Ratites, is covered by the male. The white eggs with a chalky surface are enormous (close to 13cm). They weigh around a pound, almost a quarter of the weight of the female. The clutch is thus limited to one, rarely to two eggs, which hatch after 75-80 days.

No bird or animal on the earth is considered more of a symbol of its country than the Kiwi. It's featured as the principle motif in the arms of New Zealand, and appears as well on its money and postage stamps. It's used as a brand logo for textiles, shoe polish, flour, and a whole lot of other products of New Zealand. New Zealand troops abroad are proud to call themselves "Kiwis".

[dr-smita-goel-homeopathy-clinic]

Pitted keratolysis is a bacterial infection of the skin. It can affect the palms of the hands and, more commonly, the soles of the feet, particularly the weight-bearing areas.

This infection causes small depressions, or pits, in the top layer of the skin. It can also lead to a bad smell.

Pitted keratolysis usually affects people who wear enclosed warm footwear for long periods, including soldiers, sailors, and athletes. It also tends to be common in tropical areas where people usually go barefoot.

The bacteria species Kytococcus sedentarius, Dermatophilus congolensis, Corynebacterium, or Actinomyces usually cause the infection.

These bacteria thrive in moist environments. According to the American Osteopathic College of Dermatology, pitted keratolysis has an association with excessive sweating, but this is not its only cause.

Perspiration, along with tight fitting socks or shoes, creates the perfect conditions for the bacteria to multiply.

Other risk factors for pitted keratolysis include:

• not drying the feet thoroughly after bathing

• not wearing absorbent socks

• sharing towels with others

People whose occupation may increase their risk of pitted keratolysis include:

• athletes

• farmers

• sailors and fishing workers

• industrial workers

• people who work in the military

Other risk factors that can make someone more likely to develop pitted keratolysis include:

• hot, humid weather

• sweating a lot on the hands or feet

• having thickened skin on the palms or soles

• having diabetes

• being older

• having a compromised immune system

The main symptom of the infection is clusters of small pits in the top layer of the skin on the soles of the feet. Each pit is usually 1–3 millimeters in size. The skin may also look white or wrinkly.

The pits usually cluster around the balls of the feet, the heels, or both. They tend to appear more pronounced when the feet are wet. Without treatment, the pits can join together to form a large crater-like lesion.

Pitted keratolysis can also cause an unpleasant smell, but people do not usually experience any redness or swelling because this condition is not an inflammatory skin condition.

Less commonly, the infection can affect the hands. When this happens, the characteristic pits usually occur on the palms.

Rarely, the doctor may also recommend oral antibiotics, such as erythromycin or clindamycin. Effective treatment will usually clear the lesions and the smell in 3–4 weeks.

The doctor may also treat excessive sweating if it is contributing to the disorder. Aluminum chloride 20% solution or the off-label use of botulinum toxin injections are options that can decrease sweating.

People need prescription medications to treat pitted keratolysis. However, they can take some preventive measures to help stop the infection from coming back. These include:

• wearing boots for as short a time as possible

• wearing absorbent cotton or wool socks

• washing the feet with soap or antiseptic cleanser twice a day

• applying antiperspirant to the feet

• avoiding wearing the same shoes 2 days in a row

• avoiding sharing footwear or towels with other people

• keeping the feet as dry as possible

People who experience foot odor often try to treat the problem with over-the-counter products. Doing this can make the infection worse because these treatments tend to contain antifungal and antiperspirant ingredients that moisten, rather than dry, the foot.

Pitted keratolysis can affect anyone, but people who wear warm, closed footwear for long periods are particularly at risk.

Prescription antibacterial and antiseptic medicines can treat the infection. With the right treatment, the infection and the smell will usually clear up within a few weeks.

It is important to note that the infection can come back. People can help prevent this by ensuring that they keep their feet dry and by avoiding wearing enclosed footwear whenever possible.

www.thehomeopathyclinic.co.in

[eternal-nyx]

1 MONTH ON T

 10/25/2023-11/21/2023

Days 29 - 56

Today is day 29 of my HRT diary! Holy shit! As of writing this, I have just taken my 5th injection.  Let's throw together a quick little list of the changes we've seen during month 1. 

Day 29

October 25th 2023

Hygiene: 

Looking into buying a new deodorant. Mine is slowly stopping working and I need to use so much more of it. My feet stink! I don't even wear socks or shoes. I never leave my house!!!!! This is wild. My body odor in my underarms is very much locker room stank, and my under-breasts smell like old taco bell. The amount of showers....JFC, 

NSFW: 

One inch of growth in the first month. Not mad about that at all. This thing is a plump little monster let me tell you. I get random erections, like a teenage boy. Sitting in the car? Erection that tingles and itches. Eating pizza with my family? Erection that makes me have to shift my weight, but I can't escape it! Crying over my broken bong? Yup. Erection there too. Fuck you, tick tack dick. 

I own an entire box of toys. I have a very healthy sex life and a partner who is more than willing to assist. But no matter what I try, it doesn’t STOP. And it’s not emotional its physical. I can FEEL this…..tingling? Fullness? I expected sensitive, and I expected wanting to have sex more. But being PHYSICALLY aroused more when I just wanna take a nap? Or watch tv?

Peeing is weird. I was just sitting on the toilet, peeing like one does, and I COUGHED. And my pee YEETED onto the wall instead of going in the toilet. Like....henh? The urethra in the AFAB anatomy isn't anywhere near the clit. The fuck is happening? Well. Whatever, guess this is life now. 

If my boobs don't stop feeling bruised soon I STG I might just cut them off myself. Holy fuck. Ow. 

Appetite: 

Early on I had some increased appetite that I actually benefitted from a lot. It helped me combat my ARFID ED, and was a welcome change. Though, now it's starting to taper out as nausea and PMS symptoms kick in. Hoping it comes back as my cycles hopefully cease.

Body Hair: 

Acne in places I never thought I would get it but here we are. Ass acne? Breast Acne? Thigh? Sure. I have Hidradenitis suppurativa (HS), also called acne inversus, I'm used to that shit. But my NECK?! MY SCALP? MY FUCKIN ELBOW?! The hell?! 

Vocal:

Yeaaaaaaaaaa we dropped ya'll. I'm a raspy, cracky, little bitch but OH I am loving it. I can't wait to see where it settles. 

Here are some things I wrote during earlier weeks about vocal changes:

October 18th 2023 

Night 21-Morning of Day 22

Overnight my voice really started to drop into a raspiness. It's like the beginnings of Laryngitis but instead of squeaking I'm rasping. That said, the rasping feels soothing on those sore areas of my throat. Using my voice in this comfortable range seems to help progress it without hurting it. 

October 13th 2023

Day 17 

Talking voice has begun to crack

October 16th 2023

Day 20

I think my voice just DROPPED

My throat hit an all time sore today. 

I was rubbing it and gargling numbing medicine and water. I'd taken the max dosage allowed for OTC ibuprofen and Tylenol every 6 hours on the DOT. I even took an extra of my fibromyalgia pain management medication. I had trouble eating, vaping (nicotine), smoking (medical weed), and also literally had chose my food based on what would help my throat or at least not hurt it further. I even spent parts of the day silent and nonverbal to try to sooth it and let it rest. 

However, I found that to be counter productive. I realized that using my voice in a comfortable chest voice range helped to sooth some of the tenderness. So I sung some poor man's poison and some seether. Then I went back to not talking again. It just HURT all morning. It's even affected my sleep. The throat pain bothers me more than the clit sensitivity. 

Just now, before typing this, the pain started to subside and all of a sudden my voice is like gravely and feels like I'm talking from my breastbone and not my throat. 

October 17th 2023

Day 21

The sore throat is less intense and no where near as constant. It comes and goes and so does my voice. Sometimes its normal, sometimes raspy.

Body General:

My mother noticed a change in my face shape during a video call. She said I look more like my father. 

I've noticed a change in my over all torso shape, however I'm not sure if it's due to weight loss, as I've lost 20 lbs, or the T redistributing things. Could be both I suppose. 

Menstruation:

I took pregnancy tests every single day I was late to be safe. All remained negative

After being intimate with my partner this morning, she informed me there was blood. I went to inspect, and sure enough, my flow started. My cramps are intermittent but normal for me in the moderate to severe range. So far the actual flow is light. Continuing to monitor changes. 

Misc:

Shaved off my face a few weeks back to monitor the new growth more accurately. Starting to feel itchy stubble on the chin. Here we go. 

Moody AF. Might talk about increasing my Cymbalta dosage actually. It's kind of intense.

[gogonano]

Achieving Fresh and Odor-Free Shoes with Probiotic Shoe Fresheners

Welcome to our comprehensive guide on achieving fresh and odor-free shoes with the power of probiotics. At GoGoNano, we understand the importance of maintaining clean and fresh footwear. In this article, we will delve into the benefits and effectiveness of probiotic shoe fresheners and how they can help you eliminate unpleasant odors, fight bacteria, and keep your shoes smelling fresh for longer. Say goodbye to smelly shoes and hello to a more enjoyable and hygienic shoe-wearing experience!

Understanding the Power of Probiotics

Probiotics are live microorganisms that offer a wide range of health benefits. Traditionally associated with digestive health, probiotics have also found their way into other areas, including shoe care. These beneficial bacteria help to create a healthier environment by balancing the natural microbiota and inhibiting the growth of harmful bacteria.

The Science Behind Probiotic Shoe Fresheners

Probiotic shoe fresheners harness the power of these beneficial bacteria to tackle the root cause of shoe odor. When applied to shoes, probiotics begin to actively break down organic matter such as sweat, dead skin cells, and other odor-causing substances. By doing so, they eliminate the food source for odor-causing bacteria, preventing their growth and reproduction.

Key Benefits of Probiotic Shoe Fresheners

1. Elimination of Odor at the Source

Unlike traditional shoe fresheners that mask odors temporarily, probiotic shoe fresheners provide long-lasting freshness by eliminating odor at its source. By breaking down organic matter, they prevent the buildup of odor-causing bacteria and ensure your shoes smell fresh for an extended period.

2. Natural and Chemical-Free Solution

Probiotic shoe fresheners offer a natural and chemical-free alternative to combat shoe odor. With increasing awareness about the potential harm associated with harsh chemicals, many individuals are seeking eco-friendly solutions. Probiotic shoe fresheners provide a safe and sustainable option that is gentle on both your shoes and the environment.

3. Enhanced Shoe Lifespan

Regular use of probiotic shoe fresheners not only eliminates unpleasant odors but also helps extend the lifespan of your favorite footwear. By reducing the accumulation of sweat, dead skin cells, and other debris, probiotics prevent the deterioration of shoe materials, ensuring they stay in good condition for longer.

4. Versatile and Easy to Use

Probiotic shoe fresheners are suitable for various types of shoes, including athletic shoes, sneakers, dress shoes, and even sandals. They are easy to apply and require no additional effort or maintenance. Simply spray or insert the fresheners into your shoes, and let the probiotics work their magic.

How to Use Probiotic Shoe Fresheners

Using probiotic shoe fresheners is a breeze. Follow these simple steps to keep your shoes fresh and odor-free:

Shake the probiotic shoe freshener bottle or activate the freshener, depending on the product type.

Insert the freshener pouches or spray the solution directly into your shoes.

Allow the probiotics to work their magic for the recommended duration.

Enjoy fresh, odor-free shoes!

Additional Tips for Maintaining Fresh Shoes

To further enhance the effectiveness of probiotic shoe fresheners and maintain fresh shoes, consider implementing the following tips:

Ensure your shoes are clean and dry before applying the freshener.

Allow your shoes to air out after use to prevent the buildup of moisture.

Rotate your shoes regularly to give them time to dry and breathe.

Store your shoes in a well-ventilated area to avoid trapped moisture.

Use shoe trees or inserts to help maintain the shape of your shoes.

In Conclusion

With probiotic shoe fresheners, achieving fresh and odor-free shoes has never been easier. By harnessing the power of beneficial bacteria, these innovative products provide a natural and effective solution for combating shoe odor. Say goodbye to unpleasant smells and hello to long-lasting freshness. Invest in probiotic shoe fresheners today and experience the difference firsthand.

[goodsfox]

5 Weekly Trending Products in TikTok (July 2023) 

Finding trending products to sell is an important part of running an online store. You need to know what goods will be popular before they peak. By ‘catching the wave’ you’ll be able to make money from growing sales rather than the product’s decline. But finding popular products to sell can be a challenge. That’s why we made this list to help you find trending products online.

Source: Goodsfox

In this list, you’ll find 5 trending products in TikTok that will activate your small business ideas in 2023-or maybe help you to discover a great product to add to your existing online store.

Top trending products to sell online in 2023

Browse our list of highest trending products in TikTok, you can use to start your online business.

01 3D mask

3D mask is a medical care and health care product that claims to be comfortable, breathable, and fit well on the face. It is made of non-woven fabric and comes in various colors.  

Source: Goodsfox (Store: Benyamook)

Source: Goodsfox (Store: Benyamook)

According to Goodsfox, there are two kinds of 3D mask ranking in the top five of the sales rank. The product from Benyamook tops the sales list, with 41,877 sales in the latest 24 hours, and a price of 12 THB (0.35 USD). The product from sanahfashion ranks fifth in the sales rank, with 12,950 sales in the last 24 hours, and a price of 19 PHP (0.37 USD). Both products have been listed since October 2022, but now the 3D mask from Benyamook has already been sold out and the other is still on sales.

Source: Goodsfox (Store: sanahfashion)

Source: Goodsfox (Store: sanahfashion)

02 Panty Women Underwear

The underwear is a product of Umiwear, a brand that sells women’s underwear and loungewear on TikTok. The underwear is made of ice silk Lycra, which is a high quality and comfortable material. And it comes in different sizes and colors, with a price of 30 PHP(0.58 USD).

Source: Goodsfox

Sales trend data from Goodsfox shows a significant increase in the sales of the underwear since early July. In the last 30 days, it has been sold 620,809 units, which is a 14.43% increase from the previous month. This indicates that the underwear is popular and in high demand among the customers.

03 Socks-Clothing

This is a pair of plain socks that are unisex and suitable for work or leisure. They are made of recycled cotton and a soft texture, which have a good breath ability and elasticity, and are durable and resistant to fading. The socks come in two sizes: short and medium, and fit shoe sizes EUR 38-44 or US 4-7. Besides, Various colors are available.

Source: Goodsfox

According to Goodsfox, The last 30 days witnessed a fluctuation in the sales trend of this socks, reaching its peak at 39,326 on June 19. And it has been sold 358,821 units in the last 30 days, a month-on-month rise of 36.64 percent.

04 Gentle Feminine Cleanser

This a gentle feminine cleanser called Milk Recipe. It is a low pH formula that balances the pH of the intimate area and contains natural ingredients such as betel leaf extract, chamomile extract, lactic acid, and ceramide. It claims to clean, reduce odor, and brighten the intimate area.

Source: Goodsfox

The new sales of the cleanser have increased by 800.76% from June 18 to July 17, 2023. Before increasing to its highest at 12,957 on July 14 and 16, the new sales of this products has already risen to 8,942 on July 4.

Conclusion

In conclusion, these are some of the trending products in TikTok that you can sell online in 2023. They are popular among the customers and have high sales potential. Whether you are looking for a new product to start your online business or a great product to add to your existing store, you can find inspiration from these products. You can also use Goodsfox to track the sales trends and ad creatives of these products and others. By doing so, you can stay ahead of the competition and catch the wave of the market demand.

[giannascott]

Eliminate Your Gloves And Shoes Odor From The Best Offered By GloveStix

GloveStix sells odor-removing products for shoes and gloves. It is a highly effective shoe and glove odor eliminator that quickly absorbs moisture gets rid of the odor and prevents odor-producing bacteria from flourishing. Order now! https://glovestix.com/collections/shop

[adelaidedrubman]

Jenna we need to COOK !!!

THANK YOU ZAK and also to @florbelles for requesting. unfortunately title is misleading and jenna does not, in fact, Cook in this one. instead she’s just finished Cooking and trying to have a nice soak and faith interrupts to politely demand bathtub sex:// but here’s a (sfw) excerpt of jenna fresh back from the lab and dwelling on her work, aka writer who knows nothing about chemistry tries to vaguely describe the bliss production process.

Jenna didn’t mind the smell of bliss, really. At any stage in the production process.

A decaying floral perfume as the leaves dried, like fruit rotting and baking under harsh sunlight. The sharp, biting scent of alcohol, complimented by a hint of subtle earthiness as the plant matter dissolved. The heavy, airy stench of gas from the bunsen burner fading into the dry, burnt flavor of chemical smoke as she distilled the solution. The full, salty odor of the preservatives she mixed into the final product to ensure it would keep before being diluted and packed into barrels or bottled into vials in its concentrated form.

She didn’t mind the smell. She really didn’t. If anything she liked it. It meant things were rolling along successfully, after all. She especially liked when she could smell a note of each individual flavor at once. Smoothly blending together, yet as distinct upon inspection as the stages of the process itself. A sign her lab was a well oiled machine.

No, she didn’t mind the smell of bliss at all.

She did mind that it clung.

That every liquid soaked into the air over time, saturing it with vapors that settled into her hair and clothing. That every gas seemed to find her nose no matter how well sealed her mask, scent hanging for hours, the creeping knowledge lurking in the back of her mind that it had surely seeped into the soft pink tissue of her lungs as well.

She sighed, peeling off the last of her clothing and dropping it into the hamper. Her hamper, one of two placed one either side of the bathroom door. One for her and one for Faith, Jenna’s distinguishable by the sealing lid and plastic lining — looking less like a laundry hamper and more like a biohazard container.

Which it might as well be, she thought, slipping out of her shoes, soles of her feet adjusting to lightly glossed grain of the hardwood as she padded along the floor towards the bathtub.

Not that she minded that either.

[deathlessathanasia]

“Purpura, or purple, is the most common color-term in Latin literature. A variety of sources show that there were at least seven purple dyes used; there were many shades within the violet-scarlet range, and even a bluish-green could be obtained by mixing the dyes from different species and by dipping it twice as dibaphos. . . . . . . The most important variety of purple mentioned by the writers of the Republic and Empire is murex, derived from the dye-producing mollusk (Murex brandaris and other species) that bears its name. Murex was used in the production of the varying colors of ‘Tyrian purple.’ While it is difficult to specify this shade in terms of twenty-first century equivalents, Pliny describes the desired murex as a rich, dark shade: laus ei summa in colore sanguinis concreti, nigricans aspectu idemque suspectu refulgens – ‘Praise of it [is] highest when in the color of congealed blood, blackish at first glance but gleaming when held up to the light.’14 The brilliant quality of this color was part of its appeal, giving purple an association with ‘shining.’ The purple manufacturing process is alluded to in Roman poetry. Horace notes that the wool fleece had to be dyed twice in order to reach the maximum saturation desired for the deep purple shade — te bis Afro murice tinctae and muricibus Tyriis iteratae vellera lanae. The garment is not specified but it was not necessary to do so, since his use of the term murex is sufficient for the reader to understand that he is speaking about the type of richest and highest quality garments.

Martial, on the other hand, comments on the odors of purple clothing: Lunata nusquam pellis et nusquam toga olidaque vestes murice. Nowhere will be seen the crescent shoe, nowhere the toga, And clothes smelling strongly of purple dye. The unpleasant odors associated with murex dye were apparent from the production process to the wearing of the final product. Because the dye was produced by boiling mollusks, a strong and unpleasant scent of rotting shellfish was an unfortunate but necessary by-product. For this reason the manufacturing plants were situated in less desirable districts of the city; Martial recognized the negative aspects of murex because even if it was desirable to the elite, its stench, which he may have experienced at first hand, was repulsive. Strabo says the dye works of Tyre smelled so badly that the city, while rich, was ‘unpleasant to live in.’ . . .

Other purple shades and their dyers’ collegia are mentioned in inscriptions. One such inscription mentions an amarantus, a colorator or dyer of the color amaranthus, or lilac. The reddish-purple liquid dye ostrum was extracted, like murex, from sea shells and mixed with honey or fish glue as a preservative. Other examples include amethystinus, ianthinus, ostrinus (derived from oysters), and tyrianthinus (a variation on Tyrian purple). Another documented lavender dye, conchyliatus, mentioned by Pliny, was made from a combination of murex, water and urine. Returning to Plautus, in Aul. 514 molocinarii are dyers of the color mauve, for which there is no Latin color term, but there is a Greek color-term, μολόχη. This term is only used by Plautus, suggesting that this dye was used in the second century BCE, still comparatively early in the growth and spread of the empire and at a time when Rome was still heavily under the cultural influence of the Greeks. Two centuries later, Pliny, describing the mallow plant, says alius in malva ad purpuram inclinans — ‘this mallow plant tends to look purple.’ The Romans still do not have a separate word for the shade mauve in Latin that corresponds to the Greek word, suggesting that mauve dyers or molocinarii had a limited profession before they moved on to more desirable shades.”

- Color-Terms in Social and Cultural Context in Ancient Rome by Rachael Goldman

[carmensolny]

Jelly Shoes Are a Timeless Fashion Statement

Joyful, comfy and brazenly childlike, it is undeniably fun to throw on a pair of jelly shoes. These days, designers like Carmen Sol, Tory Burch and Ferragamo have given these whimsical shoes a sophisticated upgrade. Today, the jelly shoe has made a big comeback and is available in styles ranging from the classic sandal to high-rise wedges. Jelly shoes are even vegan-friendly, offering a great alternative to shoes made from leather. 

Carmen Sol’s jelly shoes are inspired by popular runway trends, like chunky styles with ruffles and bows, traditional webbed designs, and edgy studs.  Some of the styles you'll see in Carmen Sol’s contemporary jelly footwear include the following:

Chunky wedges with studs

Embellished sandals

Gladiator sandals

Beautiful thongs

You may think you know jelly shoes as trends of the ‘80s or children's footwear, but you may be surprised to find out that they have an international history that dates back to shortly after World War II.  

The History of Jelly Shoes

The origin of jelly shoes is uncertain. Vogue Paris has revealed that jelly shoes, which they refer to as “méduse” (which means “jellyfish” in French) shoes were created in 1946 during a post-war leather shortage. Other sources assert that the budget-friendly and waterproof shoes were a product of the plastic boom of the late 1950s. 

No matter when jelly shoes were created, they only became popular in the 1980s, with the surge of neon, rainbow bright colors and synthetic fashion trends.   In 1981, a bank president named Preston Haag Sr. quit his job to find a business he could operate that would include his family.  He soon traveled to South America in order to visit with American ambassadors and discover potential products for the United States market. 

At a reception in Brazil, Haag saw many different bright shoes worn by various young women. He ended up asking them about their footwear and learned that their manufacturer was Grendene, a small company that employed 3,000 of the 10,000 people living in the town of Farroupilha, Brazil. 

In March 1981, Haag made a deal to distribute Grendene's plastic shoes in the southeastern US through a new company that he named Grendha.  He first introduced jelly shoes in America at the 1982 World's Fair in Knoxville, Tennessee. 

While this launch was successful, jelly shoes only became a bonafide fashion hit in America in February 1983.   This was when Bloomingdale's, a fashionable and luxurious department store in New York City, ordered 2,400 pairs in nine different styles.  After this massive sale and resulting exposure, jelly shoes became the hottest summer sandal in the fashion world. 

Today, designers like Gucci and other big names have made luxe, high-fashion versions of jelly shoes and influencers like Alexa Chung have been spotted wearing them. 

What Are Jelly Shoes Made Of?

PVC is very flexible and resistant to abrasions at a low cost. 

Unfortunately PVC hasn’t had the best reputation, as it has been said to be toxic, constituting a health hazard during the manufacturing process.  One feature that sets Carmen Sol’s products apart from other brands is that they design and manufacture products that are Prop-65 compliant, which means they are nontoxic. 

The scented jelly material is animal cruelty-free while adding a subtle fragrance to the products that never fades away. The company sources the scent from Italy and infuses it into the material.

Advances in plastics and synthetic materials have provided for significant improvements in jelly shoes from years past. Modern materials are lightweight, offer more comfort, are sweat and odor-resistant, and are surprisingly eco-friendly. Many modern styles of these shoes, like Carmen Sol’s, are made from recycled materials, making them a choice that is environmentally responsible as well as affordable.

The jelly material Carmen Sol uses is not only 100 percent recyclable but also cruelty-free and vegan. Their jelly material is available in an assortment of different colors, providing you with many different options to choose from. The diversity of Carmen Sol's collection means every accessory that you choose from this brand is incredibly unique, stylish, and sustainable.

Modern Jelly Shoes: How to Wear

Carmen Sol’s fun sandals and slides are the perfect summer companion for shorts, tees, tank tops, casual skirts and pretty summer dresses. Color options are numerous, with options like white and baby pink and plenty of bright hues in the mix. The brighter colors work well in spring and summer with almost any casual wear. Their nude and white options match with any outfit.

Darker hues, metallic styles, and dress-up styles like their embellished wedges can work with more sophisticated outfits too. Pair pretty dresses and skirts with a metallic sandal style, or spice up your skinny jeans with a dark peep toe jelly flat.  Carmen Sol offers metallic hues that include rose gold, gunmetal, gold, and silver. Choose a fun wedge jelly style to wear with khakis, jeans, or slacks.

In addition to playful and comfy jelly shoes, did you know there are other kinds of accessories available made from PVC jelly?  Jelly bracelets and bags are becoming more and more popular because of their durability and beauty.  Like their jelly shoes, the Carmen Sol bracelets and bags are characterized by edgy studs and bold colors. 

Modern jelly shoes like those designed by Carmen Sol are a fun and functional way to incorporate playful colors and styles into your footwear.  No matter which style you select, you are bound to turn heads because of Carmen Sol jelly shoes’ striking beauty and eye-catching appearance!

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: JBU Nala Duck Boots Black & Purple NIB.