i-want-to-be-pretty

  When Vladimir casts hemoplague on someone, he is corrupting their blood to the point where it resembles his own. This manifests into a severe illness, its symptoms including vomiting, coughs, and severe pain in the chest and abdomen. In addition, Vladimir gains an acute awareness and control over the afflicted person’s blood, being able to pick them out from a crowd and even manipulate their limbs with ease. At any time, he can kill them by rapidly advancing the plague’s progression through their body, or simply leave them to their fate.

    Most enemies of the Black Rose are disposed of in this way (either that, or Vladimir simply stands from a distance and stops their heartbeat until they die of oxygen deprivation). So far, no one has been able to survive it, but Vladimir suspects that it isn’t impossible for someone’s body to withstand the plague.

anonymous asked:

Did anyone else find the timing of Louis talking about the penguin tattoo funny and too coincidental? The fandom knows the story is it was a matching tattoo with Danielle's brother, by confirming that many will think it legitimizes that relationship. Like he wouldn't get a tattoo with Danielle's brother if she's a beard! It's funny because that's the most likely scenario than him getting a tattoo with the brother of a girlfriend he met a week before.

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Forgot about these doodles I drew awhile back. 

Snow Day

Trapped in a vehicle with Spencer Reid, a snowy case, and warm cuddles. What more could you want?

No warnings.

Masterlist

“Come on, Spencer. I happen to like my toes.”

“I happen to like my personal space.”

A glaring contest was taking place across the back seat of the stalled SUV where you and Spencer sat. Your legs claimed the majority of the cushion, pushing against his thighs on the other side. He shifted away yet again, opting for the comfort of the jacket Hotch left in here instead of the warm body offering heat just inches away from him. You didn’t blame the blizzard; North Dakota had sent out a warning over the radio after all. You didn’t even blame the SUV for wimping out; the wear and tear the team put on it was enough to make anyone want to give up.

Spencer you could blame, though. Him and his stubborn ass refused to surrender the dignity you two had left and just cuddle to conserve heat. Sure the team was in route, but the snow promised at least an hour’s delay and you were not willing to lose appendages because he could not remove the stick from his ass.

“You’re the doctor here. Our heater is broken, the whole damn car is. What’s worse, germs or frostbite?”

“Realistically, germs can have affect much faster than the cold can. They begin taking over the cells in your body within minutes. Meanwhile frostbite takes several hours to set in and we only have to wait one.”

You huffed, breath fogging up as you buried your stinging face into the wool scarf wrapped around your neck. Your jacket plus Morgan’s was not enough to block out the relentless cold. Something was clicking and it took you a few seconds to realize it was your teeth. A sigh was the next sound to fill the space, this one originating from the doctor when he heard it as well.

“Come on then.” He lifted the jacket from his side to make peace.

Defiance flared up for only the time it took for him to start shivering. You dove into his warmth, hugging every part of him your icicle fingers could reach. Your nose pressed to the heated nook of his neck and he hissed in complaint. The hair at the base of his neck tickled your forehead, reminding you just how much you appreciated the steadily growing hair.

With Hotch’s jacket draped over the both of you now and the community body temperature circulating, you relaxed against the new but not unwelcome touch of his arms encircling you. Your body ached as feeling returned to it; that could also be from the fact that your unrequited crush held you.

“This is how a lot of our cases start,” he mumbled into your hair. “Stranded, unfavorable conditions.”

“A loud mouth to draw in the killer.”

You felt the laugh more than heard it and it drew your curious gaze up to his fog stained glasses. “Can you even see through those?”

“Can’t really see far off without them.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for the unsub, or maybe our rescuers,” you promised, tugging them from his face and wiping them carefully against your shirt.

His protest was in the form of chasing the glasses with his head. This resulted in his nose crashing against yours and his frozen lips brushing your cheek. He jolted, brown eyes flaring like he might accuse you of bewitching him. With his form painted against the frost covered window, you could only touch the point on your skin that simply burned from the accident.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” he snapped.

“Terrible,” you deadpanned, reluctantly returning his now clean glasses and ducking into the safety of the jackets.

“Not you!” he blurted instantly, reading the rejection as easily as he might solve an elementary math equation. “Trust me, you’re fine. You’re more than fine, you’re stunning and confusing and almost on my lap which is definitely leaning towards the confusing bit because you barely talk to me at work. Meanwhile all I do is ramble, just like I’m doing now. I’ll help you file the HR report if you want.”

“Mind telling me exactly what I should put on there? That was hardly a kiss to complain about.”

“I am too cold to tell if you’re insulting my kissing abilities or deliberately trying to provoke me.”

“I just figure if I’m going to write a report on you, it should have something more interesting on it.”

You were edging closer, putting your latest profiling theory to the test. Spencer was scared to touch you but not because you revolted him; it was because he feared he might not stop. As he allowed your mouths meet, you prayed he would not.

anonymous asked:

Idk if you've been asked this before, but what are your thoughts of Bensavi?