#something ELSEE

[milfygerard]

oh gerard is performing her whole pussy off!!!!!!

[lovelyrockstar]

i love to draw ocs during school while having a shit ass day. makes me feel good. but???? im still having a shit ass day and i still feel bad????? jot like. "oh i did something now i feel bad" like "oh i feel terrible physically and mentally and im scared whats gonna happen next"

venting in tags a little bit kind of ihhuuh

[writersmorgue]

the prompt being captivity today basically screams yandere but for the life of me i cannot stand that trope. so i'm SORRY. but i cannot do it.

[miel-citas]

tired of all the shared fragments of poems/texts made by autors from the north hemisphere because i can’t relate to their words about april and how the flowers are blooming. here in the south the leaves are falling and everything is nostalgic..

[latestdreamgirl]

i cant believe i forgot how much i love reading old 60s comics

[fifty-ten]

they need to invent a new kind of midterms that aren't midterms

[doctordelicate-touch]

fair enough 👍 sleep gud yes yes

Heyyy hi we still online??

-Mikester [cool nickname btw it’s one of my favs. Hint hint]

unfortunately. sleep. BUT, my dear Mikester, I have returned!

[wackpedion]

twll me about homestuck so i will start liking it and can draw themmore cuz they were very enjoyable to draw

OMOMGOGMGMOG YAYAAYAY OKAY SO

im going to tell u about the troll romance quadrants cuz i love thinking about those and explaining them i love explaining things. i was born 2 explain. basically in homestuck, there is this alien species called Trolls, kitkat and tennessee r trolls themselves. and they have their own societal understanding of romance which is split into four Quadrants. theyre split up by if theyre Red Romance (romance based in majorly Positive feelings) and Black Romance (romance based in majorly Negative feelings), as well as if theyre concupiscient or conciliatory

This is likely something youve heard a bit about if youve been on certain parts of the internet. The quadrants have their names: The red heart is the Flush quadrant, the black spade is Pitch, the pink/white diamond is Pale, and the gray club is Ashen

Flush is basically the trolls closest equivalent to human romance as we understand it. Its a committed relationship made up of positive feelings. A flushed partner is called a matesprit, and the relationship a matespritship.

Pitch is basically a romance rooted in hate, such a relationship is called a kismesissitude and its partner a kismesis. now when my mutual jokes that i hav a penchant for kismesissitudes or pitch u will understand it

Pale is, in human terms most closely understood as a Platonic Soulmate. Such a relationship is called a moirallegiance and the partner a moirail

Ashen meanwhile is unique, in that its a romance that involves three trolls rather than two! Basically, fueds and rivalrys are common amongst trolls, and sometimes if things get heated between 2 trolls they might need someone to mediate. This could be to prevent from it turning into a pitch/kismesissitude affair, or because it would be in the better interest for the trolls health, or any other reason. This is where a third troll comes in, called the auspistice, whose job is to mediate between the two fueding trolls. Such a relationship is called an auspisticism

anyway daaaatrs it!!!! :333 if u want me to explain anything elsee like maybe the general plot i can do that 2.... but i havnt finished the comic yet. also if i got anything wrong my more enlightened hs mutuals Im Sorry

[ayushipop]

J - The 1st Album impressions/opinions

this is a 2nd/3rd impressions post bc i just had to listen to the whole thing a few times before actually putting anything to paper. disclaimer that i've been waiting for this album since before it was even officially announced and jaehyun was just being coy about potentially dropping something in august so this has been very VERY highly anticipated & will go platinum in my airpods <3

Smoke - watched the MV several times over for the plot <3 i LOVEE love the verses & prechorus & how they build up to the chorus, and the chorus!! absolutely fed w those delicious deep register subrapper vocals

Roses - also very familiar w/this track as it's been on repeat since it dropped! the CHOIR ECHOOO and the valentine's gag is crazy, YES I DO WANNA BE YOURSSS <3 especially loved the contrast in the pre-release mv that combined roses & dandelions, absolutely serving desperate rnb guy sobbing on his hands and knees in the rain begging for his bitch back

Flamin' Hot Lemon - my notes for this are very exclamation pointed and incoherent so i will report accordingly: THE PRECHORUS!!!!!!!! UGHHHH BUT I HOPE THAT U DONT PICK NOBODY ELSEE!! the rapping !!!!! his lower register <333

Dandelion - the mv for this caused me genuine psychic damage. he's just soooo quirky professor manic pixie dream man husband that dies at the beginning of the move coded i need to eat him. a tune to which i would frolic in a sunny field. again love the layering in the prechorus, reminds me of blueberry eyes which i also love, FALSETTO ADLIBS <33

Completely - lyrically.. just incredible. it's so "to be known is to be loved." it feels so soothing on the wound of unknowability & unlovability. have already recommended it to a friend on the basis of it sounding like a little mix ballad, like i could very much imagine perrie and leigh-anne's voices esp in the chorus <3 another gorgeous display of his range. a bitch might have teared up

Easy - more Korean-heavy so it was harder for me to immediately follow the meaning of the song, but vocally and production-wise still very up to the standards of the rest of the tracks!! honestly feels very nct 127 b-side coded, he should link up w those guys and collab or smth :)

Can't Get You - love lovee that thrumming instrumental, also reminds me of Orange Seoul which was one of my fav Walk tracks <3 love his little whiny sYstem, & the backing vocals again are just lovely. the lyrics!!!! i know you know!! I KNOW YUNOH!!!! and the way he shouts OH DARLIN' and the bridge slides into that sexy brass solo!! and as usual the falsetto adlibs <33

overall: i knew mr jung jaehyun was gonna DELIVER some rnb excellence on this album, genuinely one of my most anticipated albums of this year <3 it's so well-put together & cohesive, i'm so glad to see that he worked on this for so long w a specific creative vision in mind and it came to fruition. i loved hearing his range from falsetto-heavy songs to that deeper talk-singing register. valentines were ABSOLUTELYYY fed w this one <3

[analuvsyouxo]

HI GURL!!!

I'm here agaaain <3

and i have a question for u 🩷

Do you like books and reading? and if yes, recommendations pleaseee 🤍

(if yes i also need to ask something elsee)

LOVE YOU

🌹

HEY GIRLIE,

I LOOVE reading!! My favorite genre is romance and I also read contemporary books. Soo

BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS

Romance: Better than the movies: it's a close proximity, neighbors, "enemies" to lovers kinda vibe. Grumpy x sunshine love interests. There's lots of rom-com references and I thought it was super cute!

All the bright places: Its a heartbreaking romance story. It has heavy topics like depression, suicide, grief, abuse,... and it portrayed it all very well. Not very in-your face but noticeable and understandable!

-QUICK RECOMMENDATIONS-

Punk 57: Spicy romance, Friends to enemies to lovers, bullying, New adult

We are okay: Wlw, sapphic, grief, mental health

Afterlove: Wlw, death, fantasy aspects

Every Day: Queer, Fiction, coming off age, self acceptance

My year of rest and relaxation: Contemporary, Mental health, modern feminism, unlikeable main character

And to you, lovely moot ask me your question 🙏🙏 And i hope you like the recommendations. If not - tell me abt a few books and genres and tropes you like, maybe like pages, reading level etc!

[saexy]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers ♡

Also, how do you say Sae's name?

sae (sigh lol)

thankyou for thee askkk !!!! um rn japan skies, him <3, fooood, and my lil sister and what elsee !!!!!!

[xxk3vonicaxx]

... Here we go againn

So Blurry made a doc about me and posted it through a friend of his aandd... Oh boy is it somethingg, it's basically full of already resolved issues (only showing what I did to him and not what he did to mee), out of context screenshotss (as usuall), aand just blatant liess. He tried to claim I was his "abuser" as well 'cause I had held him accountable for his behaviorr (Whichh... Is absolutely crazyy, buut okk)

The only good thing about this was that Blurry referenced my special interest in the titlee, like yess, thank youu✨

Anywayy, onto discussing the docc:

First of alll, I never drew the art to "get back at him" or whateverr, like he so claimss, those aren't my words like he's claiming they aree, I never said I wanted to get back at himm, that's not what it waas:

It was for two reasonss, though the main one is the firstt:

It was meant as a warning for Blurry to try and stop stealing designs from my bestiee

Also I thought it would be a funny warningg (a jokee)

I've literally stated this several timess, how hard is it for someone to understandd? Not to mention I apologized for itt

Just 'cause something is a warning doesn't make it be out of revengee, Doing something as an act to warn someone not to do what they're doing isn't revengefull, don't know why he keeps trying to think it's out of revenge when it's nott

Likee, it's literally stated heree, by my bestiee, that it's a warningg. Neither of us would do this kind of thing to anyone elsee (unless you steal our designss/pass them off as your ownn, this is also a warning for those kind of peoplee), this was solely directed at Blurryy:

Alsoo, why are you calling nudity pornn? You show the dakimakura my bestie drew as one of your exampless, buut that's... Not pornn?

It's literally nudityy, why are you calling it porn when it's nott? What is your logicc?

Anywayy, continuing onn:

The "several userss" Blurry mentioned is his friend Cultc0ree (who has stolen 5 of my OCs aand has tried to slander my name beforee), aand his fans that contacted mee, who were either proshipperss, nsfw accounts that posted clopping (MLP Nsfww)/irl nsfww/yiff (furry nsfww), or bothh. One of which had reposted/supported bad dragonn, a zoophilic companyy... That kind of stuff makes me uncomfyy, of course I'd block those kind of people who post that stufff:

Due to the bad experiences I had with his fanss, I'm not in the furry fandom anymoree. I don't like drawing furries much unless it's my comfort characterr (more on that laterr). I still draw furries/anthro from time to timee, just not as much as I used tooo

Alsoo, Blurry fails to mention what happened after the callout post was madee, that being his father had threatened to dox me and a minor just 'cause I called him outt (shown heree and heree), aand he did nothing about itt, nor does he ever mention his own behavior towards mee

It's also ironic that Blurry says I stalk himm, when he's stalked both me and Mobcrit beforee. Blurry wouldn't know about this blog if he hadn't stalked my following on my alt accountt (which was privatee, my followingg, not my altt), as the blog isn't searchablee:

This is a blog made by the two authors of the Blurry docc, the blog isn't complete yett (as you can seee), buut it's a critique blog for Blurry's loree, like Mobcrit iss

Basicallyy, tumblr had a glitch that had marked your followers private for you in your settingss, buut had made them public on your profilee, aand that's how Blurry had found itt. It's not searchablee, he wouldn't have found it any other wayy

Anywayy, Blurry claims that me holding him accountable for his behavior (referring to my response post from the Blurry docc) is gaslighting according to himm, whichh... Holding someone accountable for their behavior isn't gaslightingg? Huhh??:

As welll, recentlyy, after Cags on Mobcrit posted an ask with someone saying people should rewrite Mob's FON loree, Blurry came into my DMs threatening su*cide and saying Cagney was attacking him 'cause the people on Mobcrit don't like his workk (He thinks I run Mobcrit when I'm just their archivistt, this has been stated multiple times on the blog itselff) ... He conveniently left this out of his docc:

What prompted that convoo, was that Blurry got mad that Cagney on Mobcrit proposed an idea to rewrite Mob's FON loree... Notice how I said MOB'S and not Blurry'ss, completely missing the meaning of the postt:

Cagney's talking about Mob's lore heree, not Blurry'ss. Blurry just can't understand that some people don't like his workk. You have to expect that kind of thing when you post your work so that people can see itt (Oh yeahh, he also calls that "bullyingg" sooo-)

Blurry had also accused me of gaslighting 'cause I had responded to a joke Cagney made (that Blurry gets no maidenss) by joking about it furtherr, whichh... The fact that you're getting upset over a stupid meme kind of confirms that at this pointt-

Anywayy, here was the response to the joke Cags made in questionn:

Aaand here was Blurry calling it gaslightingg:

Alsoo, he had lied to me about him not following NSFW accountss, aand I had called him out on it in that same convoo, as he was following Mob's NSFW account on twitter with his rebranded accountt, which he conveniently left out of his docc. He tried to lie and say that he had followed aand unfollowedd, buut that's a total liee, 'cause the screenshot shown was taken just before Mob deleted the account due to minors following itt:

Heree, he was acting like he was the main victimm, which he also left out of his docc:

Throughout this conversation there were multiple times in which Blurry was saying I was gaslighting himm... When I was holding him accountable for his behaviorr (aand noo, he hadn't apologized for making fun of my typing quirkk, he had lied in his "apologyy", as you guys already knoww:

Another thing to add onn, Blurry claimed I had "stolen an OC", when I actually hadn'tt:

(Notee, I was mad that Mob sold the original Deramu and other Sassy's Palace characters behind people's backss, lying to me that she said she wouldn't sell them at the timee. The new owner is a supporter/friend of Mob's and compared Mobcrit's critiques to school shooterss. This is also literally public infoo)

Also nooo, I never talked to him about this characterr, don't know where he got that fromm:

Mob had actually given me the OC during the recent chat she had with me when I got the rights to use the plants for Plantae backk (this is also public infoo, it's literally in the Mobcrit archivee), aand Mob had approved of the changes I had made to him after she gave him to mee:

Original design on the leftt, my redesign on the rightt, I liked it 'cause I thought it looked like my comfort characterr, hence the namee:

Anywayy, yeahh, that's not theftt, I literally got this OC for free along with my rights for the plantss. This is literally public infoo, I don't know why it was even mentioned in the doc in the first place since it has nothing to do with Blurry at alll

Mobcrit's probably gonna reblog this anywayy, buut there was some blatant lies that Blurry had said about them that just aren't truee (claiming the admins of Mobcrit were transphobic when in reality they were calling out people for their transphobia/using xenogenderss), also Blurry defends Mob in this specific part of the document as welll, mmm

[dewgongs]

okay do you want to know something. i have been thinking a lot and honest to god i think my boyfriend taught me to think this way like he said one off thing once about it and it kind o f changed me forever. the sentiment is basically that like. like. uyou cant compare your art to anyone elsees because you are the only one that can do that art. i was envying someones art once and wondering why i couldnt do what they could do and i couldnt color as well and couldnt render like that and they just said "welll.... thats... their art! thats not a little chyrusts art." and for some reason it changed my thinking. like you are the only one that can do your type of art. because you are you.. and that makes it invaluable. no art can ever really be the same. art is incomparable... i think much like handmade items as well. things that are one of a kind. even if you print the same piece, if you do it completely by hand, theyre all going to be different. unique in that way. anything produced by hand/handiwork is like its own gold because no one else can make it like you. because those are your hands

[judesbelligoal]

https://www.tumblr.com/judesbelligoal/764990084385767424/do-you-have-celeb-crush-on-jude-if-not-do-you

Can we have a physical description or something ? 🌚 give us something even crumbsssss

He’s tall, brown, same culture as me and what elsee … he has an sleeve on his right arm

[tonytonychopprano]

\\ ERIDANUS SUPERVOID - 1 //

Bruno finds Thomas dead in their home.

cw: major character death. graphic descriptions of a corpse decaying. mentions of cardiac illness. bruno refers to thomas' residual limbs as nubs 1x or 2x (this character is ok with it tho).

nb: im actively learning french so pls kindly correct my mistakes.

It's recycling day.

Bruno's familiar with certain human concepts, though it was centuries since he's been one--the holidays, festivals, feasts. He distinctly remembers Kenneth telling him about the traditions of l'États-Unis moderne: Thanksgiving feasts, trick-and-treating, an entire day spent sharing candies and chocolates taken from the Saint of Valentine (so many days set aside just for eating! he wishes he could visit such a wonderful place), and the superb bowl of roses that seemed, to him, something like their way of beckoning the end of winter.

He is certain, though, they couldn't compare to recycling day.

Elsee had arisen him early that day, startling him from his trance with frenetic rapping on the window of their bedroom. A clot of ferals milled around it, pawing at the joints in the wood, digging their fingers into the cracks and nibbling the chunks of mortar they yank loose. Bruno narrows his thoughts into a needle and strikes, an opalescent waver sprouting from his skull and whipping through thin air, lancing through the clot. They scatter, hissing and growling, screaming back at him in their own minds fuck you fuck you we are HUNGRY fuck you and the sound echoes in the well of his brain like the clanging of a church bell.

Beside him, Thomas huffs and shuffles deeper under the comforter.

Elsee!--stop them; they are eating our walls.

Come o-o-o-on, it whines. It's shrill and pierces Bruno's brain. Gonna eat 'em. Gonna eat your whole house. It starts slapping weakly at the glass. Despite the bastard tone it's taking Bruno can sense the desperation, the panic. Elsee is so hungry. The Unflesh fear not just the humans but also their own bellies.

"Minou," Thomas moans, rolling to his side and pulling the covers over his head. "Make 'em go away."

His voice still has that catch in it, that tremble. His words are thick and his breath comes in hoarse rattles. He's been sick for three days, now--a flu, perhaps, or an infection. He wouldn't say. Only asked that Bruno leave him be when he said so. Bruno lays a hand on his sweaty forehead, cards his fingers through his red-gold curls. Settles himself, hones his thoughts to a pin and sticks himself down the center and nails himself in place. At once the feelings of his fellows evaporate; everything vanishes, his vision tunneling to a single blue-eyed, fair-skinned point.

Yum, yum. Pepperleaf wood. Elsee peels a splinter out of a board and nibbles it like a French fry. Spicy house. Tommybaby's gonna be sad we had to eat your house.

Mon ami, sil vous. You can leave without me this once. Can't you? He brushes his thumb over Thomas' ashen cheek and watches his eyelids flutter. He coughs, a miserable hacking sound. Pity seeps into him like he's been draped with wet wool. Poor Thomas; what an awful flu.

Poor Tommybaby. Poor us. Poor Elsee, it gets no trash and no garbage and will starve. Crinkleback says--and here it begins slavering, scraping at the sill, an irritating beast--Crinkleback says Lord Hand-on-dick passed some new law. No more surface dumps. All comes down for us now.

That--does bring him pause. How many dead, human and antisoul both?--hundreds of millions? More? The thought of so much refuse makes him shudder; his tattoos wriggle, sprouting shoots and buds that swell and burst and ripen into shiny, heavy fruits--medlars, peaches, fat ears of corn with kernals like fists. Is that really all for them now? For what reason? Bruno douses the suspicion blooming within him and chooses to focus on the bounty.

Show me.

Immediately there's a wash of feeling as his mind links with Elsee's: the sharp pangs of hunger boiling in its belly, the background fear all Unflesh feel, the faint wants of the far-off moonsick ferals that gradually strengthened as his connection did until, with a discomforting ripple that turns briefly his skull to jelly, he became one with his fellows and for a horrifying second he had ceased to be Bruno at all, felt nothing but the need to run and the vicious fear of La Famine and the curiosity--there was a human in his bed, warm and alive and full of blood with soft pink lungs endlessly drawing breath--

And then it passed, and his soul solidified, and all he could hear was the excited chirping of Elsee as it mentally displayed the bounty being dumped down the Grand Doline and falling through hundreds of miles of darkness to land in the detritus fields: fruit and vegetable peels and old papers and and bottles both glass and plastic; broken scraps of surface-world industry, commercial robots soaked in rich-smelling motor oils, small home objects like his petit's miniature-wave cooker and his mixer, all held in shiny, sweet-tasting bags that stretched like taffy and melted deliciously in his mouth. The images are warped and malformed--Elsee must have been terribly excited to have such a poor recollection--but it's enough to make Bruno's stomach flip.

You like?

He does. Terribly so.

But--ami, I can't. Thomas is ill.

So what? There's shittons of humans. Fuck a healthy one.

With a flick of his ears a torrent of his thoughts spill from his brain and slam into Elsee's chest, sending it crashing into the dirt with a cacophonous screech. Thomas jolts, sitting straight up in bed, chest heaving under his thin singlet. When he sees the Unflesh outside his window he draws the covers up over his chest and crosses his arm, grimacing. His fingernails dig into the skin of his breastbone there so tightly they leave red crescents behind. "The fuck was that?"

"It--nothing, abeille. Please, rest. It is only my fellows. We--we are hungry," he says slowly. As if ashamed.

"So go eat, cher. Ain't no fuckin' fun right now anyhow." He gives a wan smile. His moustache is unkempt and several days of beard growth long since turned his sideburns into misshapen blobs. His grip has relaxed; his hand comes up to idly rub his jaw, his neck. Is he mad?--Bruno senses something like a…a wobble in his heart's normal rhythm. "Look at me. You been sittin' vigil for days and I'm still here. Go out and have fun."

"Are you mad? Petit, it is so dangerous here, and you are so sick--my fellows come and go all day, what if we hurt you by mistake? You are human--tu es fragile--"

Thomas gives him a hateful glare that chills the room several degrees.

"Désolé," he says quickly. That had been one of the things le thérapeute had warned him on--coddling him. "I only-- I want to keep you safe." Bruno smiles. "I ate yesterday." I'll be alright.

Well, I will NOT, and the noise of it is so loud and sudden he flinches.

Thomas notices. Before he can ask the question: "Elsee is--it is very angry this morning."

"All the more fuckin' reason to head out, then, huh?" Now it's his turn to cut Bruno off--"Minou, you 'member what I told you? 'Bout goin' when I asked?" He flops back onto the bed. His breath catches when he does. "All I'm gonna do today is sleep anyhow."

Is it wrong to be excited?--he already feels himself beginning to shiver.

"I--you are serious, ma crevette?"

"As a--I--yeah, minou. I am."

(Later, he'd think of the way his face changed, the flash of agony. The fear.)

\\\ /// \\\ /// \\\ ///

The detritus fields had been ripe with treasures. They took the six mile journey at a sprint, racing each other, screeching with joy, clots of Unflesh breaking off from their groups at the sight of running and, madly, instinctively, darting through the ink-black tunnels after them. The cave walls echoed with chirps and chatters, the karst slick and pearly with moisture from the thick heat of Hannick City's heart pumping electricity up through the rocky earth and into the tall leafless trees Thomas called utility poles.

Within thirty minutes Bruno, Elsee, and the forty or so zombies they'd collected as they ran had carved out a little spot for themselves, nestling among a towering pile of cardboard boxes reeking of cured meat and grease. He'd eaten his cardboard strips and watched the millions of his fellows dig through the trash, picking through piles of garbage as tall as buildings. Some scrapped over who got the most fruit peels or who had more printer ink than the other; a couple had drawn blood with the ferocity of their fights. The entire chamber was a deafening blast of squalling, screeching--among the more intact Unflesh, actual speech--and the air was so dense and hazy with thought Bruno had found himself more than once thinking with someone else's brain by mistake.

Some hours had passed before they'd all eaten their fills (Bruno alone had had eleven of those delicious boxes, as well as several tin cans and six peaches--completely fine except for some bruising and webbing near their stems. It maddened him what people would dispose of--all the more for them, he'd supposed.)

It wasn't until Elsee and Spinach were walking him home that he remembered--Thomas. His chest bucks, a sick facsimile of a heartbeat. He'd been gone nearly four hours.

He waves them off before they can get within a few miles of their home, watching them gallop off into the darkness of the tunnels. Guilt pools and burns in his stomach like he's sipped acid. How was he doing?--had his nap helped? was he hungry? Bruno was a miserable cook but perhaps he could trade some of the cardboard snacks he'd taken in his pockets for human food. A soup, perhaps. Bruno has been dead for several centuries but even he remembers the healing warmth of a hot broth in an uneasy stomach.

Bruno is still fiddling with his cardboard--dividing it up (rather selfishly) into enough strips to be tempting but not so many that he won't have anything for himself later--when he comes upon his front door. Locked; he twitches his ear, flicks out a single needle-thin waver, slips it into the lock and listens to the soft sounds of tumblers.

He freezes.

All he can hear is the tumblers.

Where is Thomas?--he hates the silence. Fears it so greatly he will sleep with a radio blaring simply to not be alone in the quiet, no matter how groggy it makes him the next morning. Why is nothing playing? No music, no sounds?

Bruno pushes the door open.

The house is dark. A faint hissing noise floats towards him from the back of the house.

He relaxes; he didn't realize how tense he was until his shoulders drop and he laughs, a nervous guttural sound like gravel rattling in a tin. He's taking a shower. After three days stuck sick in bed, that's the first place he'd go, too.

Well--surely he wouldn't mind some company?

Bruno makes his way down the hall, making sure to slam the door and call out Thomas' name (the last thing he wants is to frighten him) before he does. When he gets to the washroom door he slips his jacket off and lets the fabric puddle on the ground, the air hot and heavy on his skin. His tattoos are writhing and growing uncontrollably, lashing with excitement, making his skin itch; a cluster of purple lupines and tree orchids explode into bloom on his belly and their seeds burst forth in a torrent (obscenely, he thinks, and cringes).

"Thomas?" he calls out, knocking. He rubs at the place on his stomach where the lupines grew and forces them down. It's difficult to control his tattoos, but not impossible. "May I come in?" (Of course he can, but--c'est courtois.)

There's no response. Not even his customary answering knock on the tin walls of the shower.

"Thomas?"

"Abeille."

"Petit, are you alright?"

A moment passes before he opens the door.

It's absurdly normal inside. So much so that when Bruno walks up to the shower and draws back the curtain he stares dumbly at where Thomas' head should be before he can manage to look down at the metal floor of the shower and see

him

laying

in a tangled heap on the floor and his eyes are half-lidded, death-dulled and sunken deep in his skull, lips blue and parted and coated in a thin sheen of watery bile. His hair is dry and matted; half of him is out of the stream of water and the skin there is rapidly turning the wax-color of a corpse.

"T--Thomas?"

Thinks, stupidly: Why would you play such a horrible joke?

He reaches out; there's a sickening ripple as his tattoos rush up and over his chest and down his arms and crowd his palms. Bruno touches his face.

A spike of pain screams through him--it's empty, it's completely empty, there is no thought in him at all--and instantly he's diving under the icy spray, dragging his limp

(it is not a corpse)

form out of the shower and laying him flat on the floor, pressing his ear to his chest, and when he hears nothing there he simply freezes. The scarred skin on the nubs of his arm and leg are puckered and wrinkled from the water and his eyes are cloudy grey. He must be freezing, but he's so still. He can hear himself saying his name, over and over, stroking his face and his damp hair with shaking hands, like a chant, some prayer that will bring him

(not back; he's fine, what's there to come back from?)

to full wakefulness.

"N-non," he whines, an involuntary keening sound like a whipped dog. "Non, ab--abeille, petit, please--"

He shakes his shoulders. Bruno's fingers sink deep into the skin and he shudders, nauseous, head spinning, watching with wide-eyed horror as a wodge of his flesh deforms and melts, peeling off his shoulder and clinging to his wet palms like clay. His vision blurs.

"Dieu, fuck! Thomas, please," he says, sucking in breaths so deep it makes his chest burn. "P-please--this isn't funny, Thomas, Tommy," he sobs, "please--w-wake up. S-say--talk, say anything," and his voice is a hoarse rasp, grinding in his throat, and he begs for him to wake up again

and again

and again, for nearly a half-hour--a half-hour on his knees, staring into his petit's blank, empty corpse-face and begging for him to come back until the soreness in his rotting lungs is so severe he can no longer take breath to speak.

The hissing of the shower's spray and the clicking sounds of his crying are the only noises in the room. The spray gentles; soon the water tank has emptied and the room goes silent. Bruno gives out and collapses, lays his head down on his chest; he hears neither the beating of his heart nor the pulsing of his blood and it's so--it's so ugly, it's a disgusting thing--to be so quiet there--he pulls back and buries his face in his hands so he doesn't have to see the depression he'd left, the way his ribs had bent in like reeds--hear the sound of it--he quails, moaning.

"Thomas."

The word hangs in the air like a spider's thread, fragile and useless.

He should have been here.

If he'd been here, he could have helped.

This wouldn't have happened if he'd been here. There are hospitals--even down here, in the caves, there are doctors, clinics--he didn't even ask if Thomas wanted to go, he didn't--do anything, nothing at all for him--

He'd run off and left him to die alone.

It comes to him so suddenly he flinches, closing off his brain lest one of his fellows was near.

It--he'd left him.

The look on his face as he'd been going--that single second of panic--why hadn't he noticed until now? What had he said to him before leaving? What was the last thing Thomas heard?

Surely not what he wanted. Needed.

He sinks down, inches as close as he dares and rests his head near the remnant of Thomas' right arm. The hairs there tickle and it's so familiar, comforting, he nearly screams.

A pop echoes through the room. He roughly gestures towards the shower with a snarl, a waver snapping out and turning the handle so violently it snaps off at the joint and clatters to the floor. But it sounds again and he turns, head swivelling. The noise is colossal--God cracking his knuckles.

It's coming from Thomas.

Mute from horror, eyes so wide they sting, Bruno watches.

Thomas' belly bulges out in a nightmarish imitation of a woman quickening, fat swollen lumps welling under his skin, his body bloating, skin browning; his stomach doubles, triples in size before a torrent of foamy white-green liquid froths out of his mouth, eyes, ears, and the corpse-bile spilling from him soaks into Bruno's jeans and he screams. It reeks of cadaverine, the stink of dead flesh--he gags, stomach constricting painfully, scuttling backwards until he slams into the far wall, whimpering. He has to bite down on his wrist to stop himself.

His stomach caves in on itself. His ribs collapse. He's--he looks--like one of them. A rotten body, waxen skin stretched tight over the bone.

It's silent again. Only the quiet trickling of bile dripping from his face to the tiled floor.

"T-Thomas--?"

His body lifts its arm.

The skin there, purple and mottled with blood, withered to the bone--reforms. Fleshes out, thickens. Old dead flesh dribbles off in rivulets as new knits together, a golden sheen covering him; patches of his body shine and gleam like precious stones and from those spots blood and warmth flow freely, coursing through him. The scars at the end of his limbs and the ones etched into his skin stiffen and split as his body reforms, fresh scar tissue flooding the gouges left behind; in a moment they're shiny-pink, new.

Bruno scrubs his hands over his face, laces his fingers behind his head. This is--not happening.

He's--he was poisoned. It's happened before, dozens of times. The trash--it always has hemocides or bleach or foul-tasting chemicals mixed into it, to hurt them, kill them--this time it was something--else.

Thomas' body jerks like a marionette, a crazy dance, arm and leg twitching, hand curling into a claw and scraping at the wall. His chest bucks as his organs reshape themselves, bones cracking and snapping into place; after a few dreadful minutes the only movement is the swell of his breast rising and falling as he draws in breath after ragged breath. Even his face pinks up, takes on a healthy glow. The ashen cast is gone. He looks--healthy.

Like he was never sick. Never dead.

Cautiously, Bruno relaxes himself. Lets his brain wander, feel.

Energy.

He crawls forward, reaches out with a shaking hand and taps Thomas' cheek.

"Mm--quit. Quit it. 'M sleepin'." He makes to roll over and when he feels only his own nakedness he startles. He gives Bruno a look so wounded, so hurt, he feels it like a knife in him. "Oh, fuck, minou--"

"Y-you--you were dead," he says numbly.

For four blinks, there is silence. Thomas' face crumples.

"B-Bruno, cher, I'm--Bruno, I'm so sorry." He flails, shifts himself to a sort of half-sit, and leans forward on his intact leg as far as he can without toppling. He wraps his arm around Bruno, nearly in his lap. He's warm. Alive. Bruno lays a hand gently on his back and feels the blood rushing under the skin there; he feels hot tears splashing against his chest as well. He hugs him tighter.

He doesn't say anything. Why bother?--who cares? He's alive. If he tells himself it was only a hallucination, some horrible waking nightmare--couldn't it be? He's alive.

He holds Thomas while he cries, his shoulders trembling.

Bruno is shaking, too.

"Thomas--cher abeille, please--is this...." He swallows hard. "This is--real? You are alright?"

Perhaps he tries to say something. Thomas gasps, chokes on his own sobs. Bruno cups his cheek, brushes the tears away with his thumb, feels the faintest tinge of regret.

"Um--uh, minou, w-we need to--to talk, I think."

[sunlightandsuffering]

You must read the “La Douleur Exquise” too that was something elsee

If it's in the zine I'm working on it lol !! There's so much and i'm so excited !