#ICE COLD SKIN & A DARKNESS IN YOUR EYES { ICEMAN; BODY } | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twistnet · 1 year

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reflections [ tom kazansky ]

⋯ KINKTOBER PROMPT ; day 20 [ mirror sex ]

⋯ WARNINGS ; female!reader, smut [ mirror sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, slight begging, rough sex -- p in v, multiple orgasms, cum ] + mature language

⋯ NOTE ; this content is strictly for those 18+ ; any minors // ageless // blank blogs interacting with this post // masterlist will be blocked

tom had locked eyes with you from across the bar. a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he focused in on you -- albeit, a little rude to whatever slider had been talking to him about. but it seemed he didn’t care as all he wanted was your attention for the night.

and you had happily given it to him. cozying right up to him the second a spot next to you at the bar had opened up. his arm sliding around your waist, tugging you in close as he asked if there was anything he could get you -- not wanting to leave you wanting or hanging around for some poor soul to think he could swoop in and buy you a drink.

however, your quick answer of ‘you’ had taken him slightly by surprise -- the usual iceman mask faltering in the slightest before his eyes were set ablaze with lust and he gripped you just a bit tighter before speaking softly against the shell of your ear, “who would i be to deny a lady such a request?”

he had barely uttered a goodbye to his rio as he led you out the door towards his car. definitely not missing how the taller man shook his head with a heavy laugh before turning back to his conversation.

ice was ever the gentleman. only keeping his free hand resting atop your thigh near your knee, and never letting it travel up further. even though he wanted to nothing more, he wanted to see you. so, he’d wait until getting back to his base house to do so.

and the second the door closed behind the two of you, his lips were pressed against your own. you moaned softly into his mouth as his body pressed against you. hands coming up to twist through the short strands of hair.

ice hissed against your lips, pulling away briefly to suck in a breath before surging forward and latching against the skin of your neck. sucking a dark mark at a little spot that makes you weak at the knees -- earning a sweet chuckle from the man.

“god, ice...” you breathe, gasping and gently tugging at the strands threaded through your fingers as his hands slowly raise under the hem of your dress towards your chosen undergarments for the night.

cold fingers dip under the band of your panties, snapping it back against the skin of your hip with a delighted smile. you back arching into his touch as he captured your lips once more for a heated kiss.

then, he pulled back from you, earning himself a whine before starting towards the bedroom with your hand in his. while he wasn’t against taking you apart in the entry way of his home, he would much rather do so in the privacy of his bedroom where he can lay you out all nice and pretty for him.

upon reaching the bedroom and hearing the door close behind you, ice quickly tugged his shirt over his head. tossing the garment to the side before setting his sights on the dress adorning your figure.

“let me help you, baby.” he states softly, before motioning with his finger for you turn your back towards him. you do so willingly, eyes slipping closed as ice’s lips press against your shoulder as hands ghost along your curves. roaming until the zipper falls between his thumb and index finger.

with each bit of skin exposed, his lips follow until the zipper stops at the small of your back. then, hands gently push the garment off your shoulders, letting it fall and pool at your feet.

you take the moment to turn to face him again, wanting him to see what exactly you were wearing underneath -- very much enjoying the slight hitch in his breath as his eyes fall over your form, “what did i do to deserve you, sweetheart?”

“exist.” you smile, pulling him down to kiss his lips again. he purrs at your words, gently guiding you back towards the bed. getting you comfortably laid back against the mattress before climbing over you. his lips sealing against yours for the nth time that night, before your hands surged forward. your own breath gasping against his lips as your hands worked at the clasp of his jeans, shoving both them and his boxers down together just under the swell of his ass before ehe finally drew back from you with a playful expression.

“getting a little impatient, are we?” he teases, shoving his pants down the rest of the way before climbing back over you. you make a small noise of discontent, something ice quickly ratifies with gently guiding you up towards the headboard and getting you settled up against the pillows.

ice leans over to the side for a moment, rooting around in the bedside table for the lube -- more so to have as a ‘just in case’. before turning back to find your eyes dark, and locked to the side with your hand resting just under your breast. he follows your gaze for a moment, interest piqued to see what else had managed to grab your attention, until he locks eyes with his own reflection.

for a split second, his eyes widen before a smirk draws across his lips, “this is new... you like to watch, sweetheart?” he questions, furthering the point as he wraps a hand around his cock and gives it a short pump. he shutters softly at the pleasure racing down his spine, letting out a low moan as he keeps eye contact with you -- taking note as your chest heaves before your hand is rushing to soothe the heat building between your thighs.

however, ice is quick to snatch your hand, bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to the knuckles, “what did we say about patients, baby?” it’s a light hearted statement, not at all meant to keep you from doing what you want, but you do pick up on the slightest bit of authority in his voice.

he drops your hand, reaching over to grab the bottle of lube he had pulled earlier. slathering two of his fingers in the gel before warming it so the chill doesn’t take you by surprise. then his fingers are dragging through your folds, mixing your juices with the lube before pressing against your clit -- causing you to arch off the mattress with a surprised moan.

ice chuckles softly, cooing down at you as the pads of his fingers tightly circle the little bundle of nerves, setting you ablaze with each press. you hips jut up, attempting to swivel with the motion of his fingers before a firm hand presses against your hip, “ice, fuck, please,” you breath, whimpering softly as the motions of his fingers slow to a stop.

“what do you need, baby?” he asks, playing coy but more so he just wants to hear you say it. and for a moment, you drag your gaze away from the mirror, eyes shining bright with unshed tears as you look up at him, “need you... need your fingers, fuck! anything! i’ll take anything.”

ice hums in thought, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips before drawing back just as quick. then he’s fingers trail down, brushing over your cunt with a soft press, before a single finger slips into you. your eyes screw shut on instinct, before a hand gently pats your cheek, gripping your jaw to turn your attention back to the mirror, “keep watching, sweetheart. you’re gonna miss all the fun if you keep those pretty eyes closed.”

your eyes open lazily, and there’s a soft praise that falls from ice’s lips that seems to warm you. another finger slipped into your cunt, thrusting in at a decent pace, all while padding around for that little spot that made you see stars. and accompanying each thrust with a brush of his thumb at your clit.

ice had you shaking under him in minutes, cooing softly when you would clench down around his fingers and when little moans would all but force themselves from your lips -- all while you continued to watch him take you apart piece by piece in the mirror.

and as much as he was enjoying the idea of you watching him, he was finding it hard to keep himself from coming. with gritted teeth, he gripping the base of his cock, hoping it would give him just a few more minutes before letting you come around him. and with that thought, his patience quickly wore thin and he pulled his fingers from your cunt.

“w-what?” you stammer out with a choked moan, eyes snapping away from the mirror to look up at ice with tearful eyes, “why’d you stop?” you question breathlessly, before a kiss is pressed to your sweaty forehead.

“not done yet...” he answered, before gripping your hips and spinning you around to face the mirror, bringing you sit between his spread thighs, hovering just over his cock. and with a hand at your hip to steady you, he gripped his cock and slowly slid into your cunt. you mewled as he bottomed out, head falling back against his shoulder as ice pressed a kiss to your pulse point.

“eyes forward, baby. this is what you wanted, yeah?” he cooed, rocking his hips forward and pressing deeper into you before withdrawing, and then rocking back in with a punctuated thrust. and it nearly knocks the wind out of you, as he sets a deliberate pace of steady thrusts.

“fuck, tom,” you pant, before lifting your head and meeting ice’s eyes in the mirror. the bright blues you were so use to seeing, now dark with desire as he continued his pace. blunt nails digging into your hips as if to drag you back against him with each thrust.

your moans grew louder, eyes locked on the reflection of the two of you in the mirror -- seemingly finding nothing hotter than getting to watch everything ice was doing to you. your hips drove back, meeting each one of his thrusts, dropping your hand down to press against your clit to give you just a little something more to push you over the edge.

your eyes squeezed shut -- ice’s orders about keeping your eyes locked on mirror long forgotten as your head drops back against ice’s shoulder once more as you come, nearly sobbing as the wave of your orgasm finally washes over you, “that’s it, sweetheart,” ice groaned, fucking you through your orgasm, and now set on chasing his own, “fuck, you did so good, sweetheart.”

ice’s hips sped up, only thrusting a handful times before before spilling into you with a heavy groan. dropping his nose into the side of your neck as if to nuzzle you softly as hands softly began to caress your sides.

as you both came down from your highs, you slowly turned your head, lips brushing against ice’s in a soft kiss before ice pulled out from you, and gently guided you back down onto the mattress.

“that was...” you gulp, nearly chuckling as a hand brushes up from your hip to your waist, “that was so fucking hot.” ice smiles, leaning down to press another kiss to you, this time to your temple before slipping from the bed and shuffling towards the bathroom to get something to clean the both of you up.

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 2 years

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Ice Cold

Whumptober 2022: 7. The Way You Shake and Shiver, 21. You’re Safe Now Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, f!reader, Reader is Iceman's Daughter Word Count: 760 TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Freezing, Death Note: Thank you to @marvelousmermaid for looking this over for me 💖

You were so cold. Colder than you could ever remember being before in your life. You were shivering from the inside out and you were worried you’d chip a tooth if your teeth didn’t stop chattering so fiercely. But at least your body had gone so numb that the injuries from your crash didn’t hurt anymore.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on you. In a way, it was poetic that Iceman’s daughter, code name Snowflake, was slowly freezing to death. But after your plane went down, you were too injured to find cover from the cold or to build a fire. You barely had enough strength to drag yourself away from your plane in case a fuel line caused an explosion. At this point, you were hoping for one. Explosions meant fire, and fire meant heat.

Unless that happened, your only hope was a rescue team located you soon. Maverick had been your team leader for this mission and you knew he wouldn’t stop until he found you. Your godfather had never failed you before, so you just needed to hold out a little longer. Knowing him, he’d have rangled together every available airman to help with the search.

It was becoming more difficult to breathe as the cold air stabbed at your throat and burned your lungs with each breath. Your vision began to blur and all you could see was the blanket of white stretching in front of you against the inky darkness of the night.

But suddenly, something else came into your field of vision. Struggling to bring the world back into focus, you finally made out a pair of combat boots standing before you, and the person wearing them squatted down to your level. Giving you a sad smile, he said, “Hey, baby.”

“D-Dad…” you breathed in astonishment. “Wh-what are you d-doing here?”

“Where else would I be?” Iceman asked. “I had to come get my girl.”

You managed a small chuckle before your body was racked with another intense shivering fit that you felt down to your bones. Weakly, you chattered, “Dad…. I’m s-s-so c-cold.”

He rested his hand on your cheek. “I know, but don’t worry. I’ll get you someplace warm real soon. You’ve done good, kid. Now it’s time to take you home.”

Bending down, he scooped you up into his arms just like he used to when you were a little girl. And as you leaned your head against his chest, you already felt his warmth radiating throughout your body.

You hummed as you snuggled in closer to him, your shivering slowly fading away. “I feel better already.” For the first time, you looked up and really took in the man carrying you. What you saw made you smile. “You look good, Dad.”

He returned your smile and said, “So do you, baby. Now, close your eyes. It’s all going to be okay.”

You nodded softly, suddenly overwhelmingly tired. With the warmth from your father wrapping around you like a blanket and the steady beat of his heart serenading you, you closed your eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.

Maverick was the first one to spot you about a hundred feet from where your plane had crashed. The second he saw the drag marks in the snow, he had taken off running but because of the fresh layer of snow, he had almost tripped over your snow-covered body.

Dropping to his knees beside you, he desperately tried to wake you, to find a pulse. But, despite his efforts, it was painfully clear by your blue-tinted lips and ice-cold skin that you were gone. That he had been too late.

He collapsed back into the snow and buried his head in his hands even as the emergency team began examining you. However, he knew there was nothing they could do.

Tears began to well up in his eyes as he silently begged Ice for forgiveness. Since they had met at Top Gun decades ago, Ice had saved Maverick’s career more times than he could count. And the only thing in all that time that Ice had ever asked in return was that Mav keep his daughter safe. It had been the last thing Ice had said to him before he died over a year ago and, now, Mav had failed him. He had failed you.

And as he stared up into the night sky where the snow and stars seemed to merge into one, Maverick just hoped that wherever the two of you were now, you were together once more.

Taglist: @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter , @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 years

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Ice Cold

“D-Dad…” you breathed in astonishment. “Wh-what are you d-doing here?”

“Where else would I be?” Iceman asked. “I had to come get my girl.”

You managed a small chuckle before your body was racked with another intense shivering fit that you felt down to your bones. Weakly, you chattered, “Dad…. I’m s-s-so c-cold.”

He rested his hand on your cheek. “I know, but don’t worry. I’ll get you someplace warm real soon. You’ve done good, kid. Now it’s time to take you home.”

He returned your smile and said, “So do you, baby. Now, close your eyes. It’s all going to be okay.”

He collapsed back into the snow and buried his head in his hands even as the emergency team began examining you. However, he knew there was nothing they could do.

And as he stared up into the night sky where the snow and stars seemed to merge into one, Maverick just hoped that wherever the two of you were now, you were together once more.

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @green-socks, @11thstreetvigilante, @merlehs, @sunshineflowerchild789, @wildbornsiren, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @callsign-fox, @imjess-themess

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infinitegalahad · 3 years

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Hi! Could you please do 4 or 24 from the fluff prompt list for brad or nate from generation kill?❤️

ROSY RED SKIES (AND CHEEKS)

Summary: Brad acts differently around you, and you begin to notice his little quirks and tease him endlessly for it.

Word-Count: 1.4k

Prompts: “you’re blushing”, “am not”, and “could you hold my hand?”

Warnings: N/A

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody

Notes: Decided to give gen kill some love since my love for it has resparked! I need to rewatch the show when school ends istg�� This is my first time writing for the show as well-so please bare with me! I just love when the iceman goes to the puddleman. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

The chill brush of the waves crashing into your bare feet made goosebumps form all over your skin. Wyoming, even in the middle of July, became brisk as soon as the sun would hide behind the mountains. It was a spectacular sunset with the mountains and orange and pink sky, minus the temperature. As soon as Brad had parked his bike, you had hopped off and ran to the nearest lake to get the best view of the sunset. You threw off your boots and cuffed your pants, feeling one with nature. You couldn’t help that you were from the northeast-Ray would poke fun at you, but there was something about nature that was so soothing. You’d simply show him a smile, and roll your eyes. It was just Ray after all.

Your boyfriend, however, was the polar opposite of you.

Brad knew that you were too good for him, and the world. He didn’t understand how optimistic and empathetic you could be. Normally, those types of people were an annoyance, but you were different to him. At first glance, he thought of you as a pest. Ray would bother you since you stood out in the company, so he kept to himself. There was a point where you would be the driver instead of being in the rear, and that was when Brad felt at ease. Many troops — but certainly not all — see female flesh as a justified spoil. Most of Hitman, or a solid majority, were like rabid dogs. If they saw a woman, they’d foam at the mouths and talk about them like objects. Brad never wrapped his head around how open these men could be-especially around you. That’s the moment he knew, or at least Ray knew, that Brad Colbert had the world’s biggest crush on y/n.

It was an unforgettable day. You had been the driver of the humvee and Brad had been in the passenger things. Ray had started running his trap, and Trombely had remarked “at least the women can drive.” Brad had turned around, a flushed face (he claimed it was from the heat), and had Trombely shut the fuck up. Trombley was a psychopath, everybody knew that, but he targeted you the most with lewd remarks. After Brad had defended you, Trombely never bothered you again.

And you weren’t a horrible person-just y/n with a smile that made Brad’s cock twitch in his pants.

You wanted to thank Brad, but he simply iced you out.

One day it was raining, you and Ray had been in charge of fixing the humvee. The two of you were drenched, soaking, and weighted down by the heavy and brisk weight of the rain.

“Man, this is what it must feel like in a girl’s panties whenever the big, strong Viking known as Brad Colbert speaks to a chick,” Brad remarked as he looked down at you with a shit-eating grin. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he took great pleasure in doing so. “Tell me, my dearest pal. How does it feel?”

You were under the humvee, doing some final checks as Ray annoyed you. As you secured the final screw, you let out a sigh.

“My god, I normally don’t like saying this, but shut up Ray, please.” As you rolled out from the jeep, you threw the tools laying around back into the box. “It’d Fan-fucking tastic if maybe he didn’t repress his feelings.”

Turning around, Brad Colbert stood right behind you, his blue eyes piercing into your soul. Water dripped down his skin as he had a stoic expression on before turning around and exiting. Ray Person takes full pride in being the reason you two hooked up in the back of the humvee later that night.

A year later, here you and Brad were. The two of you had nobody but yourselves, so you chose to live where nobody could find the two of you. Brad thought that the state of human nature allowed people to be selfish and savage. The horrors of war had proved his point, which further increased his hatred for people.

But a simple smile or stolen touch from you-and Brad would go from the iceman to the puddle man.

You brought the good out in Brad. He hated everybody, but you, and he wanted to spend his time with you in the most unpopulated state in the United States. And you had no issue going with him. You had dreams to work as a Park Ranger, and as long as Brad had you by his side, then he was content.

Even though Brad loved you, as alien as it was, he occasionally didn’t understand you.

Brad had seen you hop off the bike and throw your helmet to the side, jumping towards the lake as he watched you like a hawk. He assumed he let you do your own thing and be “one with nature” or whatever zen-shit Rudy was into. But as you walked further into the lake, his brown leather jacket hanging off of your shoulders, is when he stepped into action.

“Y/n,” He called out, his voice echoing. You looked over, and Brad was starstruck. His jacket draped over your smaller frame as your eyes were widened like a deer in headlights.

“Yeah?” You questioned, nudging your shoulders.

Brad stood close to the shoreline, his icy blue eyes burning into your soul. His lips pursed against each other as his cheeks showed a red tint. No words came from his mouth, just the silence of the water and wind. He stood in place, looking right at you.

A smile curved up on your cheek. He was never like this around anyone else. After his fiance had left him, he was torn-at least in your eyes. You and Brad weren’t that different-your boyfriend had left you and had broken the news with a damn Christmas card. It was the strange way the two of you bonded. It wasn’t all mushy emotions and crying or cuddling-it was unprofessional, as much as you needed it. Instead, your bond consisted of long conversations on top of the humvee, looking at the stars. Iraq, despite it being hot during the day, turned freezing at night. Brad had given you his hoodie, which was like a nightgown on you. It was gray, the words ‘colbert” embroidered on the front.

You still kept it in your closet, wearing it for when you needed reassurance.

“You’re blushing,” You giggled as you turned your body fully around to look at your boyfriend.

Brad snapped out of his trance as his hand came to feel his cheek. He shook his head, “Am not.”

A smirk appeared on your face, “Really?”

Kicking off his sneakers and rolling up his jeans, he began to walk into the lake. “Really.”

“You sure?” You took a few steps back, but he kept gaining onto you.

Brad was close enough to grab your hand, restraining you with his strength. “Positive, ma’am.”

Jumping up, you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which once again caught him off guard. “You're hot,” You noticed, “Well, literally. But you’re burning up, liar.”

“You realize how annoying you can be sometimes?”

“You chose to date me,” You shrugged your shoulders as you slid past him in the water, “Let’s head out before it gets dark.”

Once again, Brad grabbed you and held you back, but instead of taking your wrist-he took your hand.

You turned back and looked up at him. He had the expression of a baffled child, unable to explain what predicament he had gotten into. It had your heart melt-here was the notorious iceman, cold and cunning, melting into the puddleman.

“Brad?”

“Could you hold my hand?”

Pulling him forward, you locked your hands into his and gave them a squeeze. “Of course-why wouldn’t I?”

“We haven’t done this before.” He responded as the two of you walked out of the law, your feet drenched, “I’m not into the whole romance thing.”

“Wow-I never noticed.” You said, sarcasm in your voice, “I like it, puddleman. At Least your not calling me corporal.”

After the war, it took time for Brad to differentiate you as his girlfriend and his corporal. As much as he cared for you, he found it hard to do basic things such as showing his affection and even calling you by his first name. But with time, you showed up, and it came to him.

“You go from being my RTO to my girlfriend,” Brad says as he whispers into your ear, “And yet you're still the same-stubborn.”

“And you love it.” You smiled at your boyfriend, not expecting anything back from him but an annoyed face.

But Brad looked down at you with awe in his-and a subtle smile on his face.

#generation kill #generation kill x reader #generation kill imagine #Brad Colbert #Brad Colbert x reader #Brad Colbert imagine

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smediumsmeatbae · 4 years

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Just a Little Taste

PAIRING: Landlord!Robert Pronge x Reader

SUMMARY: You just wanted a little ice cream

WORDS: 1005

WARNINGS: mentions of death, murder, confinement, swearing, general creepiness. This would probably get a TV-14, like a Law and Order episode rating so nothing is too bad, I just want everyone warned.

A/N: Whew! This was my first time writing Robert Pronge and I have to say, I really enjoyed writing this creepy little fic. The last half really wrote itself. I’d love to get him out to play a little more if you guys like this fic.

I also took a few liberties with the story. I know that the killings mostly took place in New Jersey, but I couldn't really give Reader a good enough reason to move there, so we went a little more north to New York City for the setting. I did, however, make the reader from Dumont, NJ, which is where Richard Kuklinski, from the iceman murders, was based in the movie. And obviously, Robert was never a landlord (that we know of) but he would be the perfect creepy one.

This is also another entry for the #shamelesshoesforchris challenge by @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18. I used the prompts: creepy landlord and “shhh, be good for me.”

Please do not post my work elsewhere without my permission

Likes are amazing. Comments and reblogs are better.

Tags will be in the reblog because tumblr suuuuucks. 🤣

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It wasn’t that long ago that you moved into the Gallant Apartments in New York City, but you could tell that something was… off. It wasn’t that the building was old. Buildings aged and you liked the 1960′s characteristics that the complex held; it had a retro appeal. It may have been the surrounding block that the building was on. It seemed that every time you left the area, everything seemed… lighter. It sounded delusional but you swore there was a dark cloud that hung over the place. Then, there was the landlord, Robert Pronge. He seemed like one of those guys who tried to seem nice on the surface, but he was shifty. He insisted that everyone call him Mr Freezy on account of the ice cream truck he drove part time. He had stringy dirty brown hair, glasses that practically covered his own face, and a goatee. Every time you passed him in the hallway, you got this feeling from him, like he was watching you.

Still, you had just uprooted your entire life from a small town in Dumont, New Jersey. You had said goodbye to everyone and came to New York City on the promise of a new writing career. You weren't about to let a creepy landlord with too much time on his hands get in the way of you living your dream. He could be creepy and sell his creepy little popsicles by himself. You were going to keep to yourself, mind your manners, and pay rent on time.

A few months went by without you all talking that much except for the occasional maintenance issues. You seemed to get on his nerves just talking to him, like every question or concern you had for him ripped an invisible hole in his body. It truly baffled you why he was even in tenant leasing if it was going to be so annoying to him.

Then, July came. It was sweltering hot, hotter than you could remember it in a long time. Sweat would bead on your forehead just from walking outside to dump your garbage. As you walked home from work, you felt like your insides were barbecuing. The sunburn you were going to have on your pale skin was going to be brutal. You needed relief, you needed the cold.

That’s when you spotted the truck.

The Mr. Freezy truck, that damn white and blue beauty. It was parked there like it was waiting for you, having an angelic glow for you, asking you, pleading with you to come in and get some delicious ice cream. Robert wouldn’t mind one, you reasoned with yourself. You would tell him later and pay him back.

You walked towards the truck, taking care to be cautious with the locks and opening of the back door. The smell was different than you'd expected. You'd thought it would smell of ice cream and coolant from the freezers but there was something else there just under the surface. Something surgical smelling. Maybe bleach? You brushed the thought aside as you stepped into the truck, in search of your delicious treat.

You opened the first freezer on the right and saw just a few things, nothing that grabbed you right off. You did like the bomb pops but you were looking for one of those lemon ice things. You closed the freezer and went to the one on the left, casually opening it.

You weren't sure what you were looking at when you first opened it. It took your mind a second to process that there were eyes staring back at you instead of what should have been frozen treats. What… What the hell. What. The. HELL!?! There was a body in the freezer. A DEAD BODY WAS STARING AT YOU. You shrieked out in terror and backed away from the freezer, your body slamming with the freezer on the other side. Your heart was slamming out of your chest, you were trying to remember how to breathe. What the fuck were you going to do?

“What are you doing in here?” A low voice murmured towards you.

Your head turned, wide eyed and terror running through you. Robert was standing there, shoulders tense. Eyes black coal and steady. You could see his eyebrows furrowed under the frames of his glasses.

He hopped up into the back of the truck with you and shut the freezer door then looked you up and down as if he was deciding what to do with you. All you could do was tremble, your body visibly shaking. He turned and closed the door to the truck, leaving you and Robert in there together.

“I....” Grabbing onto the freezer door to steady yourself, you noticed how your voice seemed so meek and small. “I... Just wanted some ice cream…”

“Well, that wasn’t the right one, was it.”

“R-robert please. I’m sor-” You choked out.

Quickly, he took two steps forward and was right up against you, planting his hands on either side of you on the freezer, eyes blazing at you. He pressed his body on you and stuck his face close to yours. You tried to back away but you had nowhere to go.

You couldn't scream. Your mouth felt like sandpaper scraping against itself. Your legs felt like jelly. A cruel sneer found its way onto Roberts mouth as he looked down at you like you were a new toy. He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small switchblade, making it pop out with his thumb.

“Goin’ places you don’t belong? Stickin your nose where it don’t belong, huh baby?” He whispered, using one of his hands to grab your arm. “Someone should teach you a lesson, hmm?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean…” You pleaded.

“Shhh, be good for me.” He had a low growl as he gripped tighter to your arm making you whimper. “Don’t scream again and this will go much easier.”

"Oh... I'm going to have so much fun with you."

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nancygduarteus · 7 years

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The Ice Guru in Brooklyn

The Cortex Is the Enemy

Greenpoint is a historically working-class Brooklyn neighborhood full of industrial buildings. In the last two decades these have been turned into lofts with skyline views, and skyscrapers are going up, and there are waterfront parks and coffee shops adjacent to other coffee shops. The old pencil factory is condos. The old rope factory is an event space. Along with adjacent Williamsburg—which now has an Apple Store, a Whole Foods, and an Equinox all on the same block—Greenpoint has become New York’s most rapidly gentrifying neighborhood.

In the heart of it is a 60,000-square-foot, glass-walled building called the Brooklyn Expo Center, which opened in 2014. It’s a single story with 24-foot ceilings. Inside on a Friday in May, roughly 400 people sat on the floor facing a makeshift stage. Above it was a screen that read, “We can do more than we think we can.”

On the stage stood a Dutch man in black shorts and a synthetic blue shirt. His grayish hair flopped as he paced. He looked somehow robust despite an absence of prominent musculature and a sort of convex abdomen. This was Wim Hof.

He is The Iceman.

“Depression, fear, pain, anxiety—you name it,” Hof’s voice boomed through the speakers. “We are able to get into any cell and change the chemistry. We are able to get into the DNA.”

Hof claims that people can address, prevent, and treat most any malady by focusing the mind to control the metabolic processes in their cells. For example, we can will our bodies to heat up in cold situations. He told the audience “we can beat cancer” by shutting down malignant cells. “I challenge any university in the world to test this out,” he roared.

For a four-hour seminar in The Wim Hof Method, attendees paid around $200. The ticket offered an opportunity to hear Hof speak and to perform his famous breathing exercises, and then to take a brief dip in an inflatable pool of ice water.

Almost the entire first half was Hof speaking extemporaneously, shoelessly. “You are the alchemist,” he said, gesturing out to the people, who sat rapt, mostly silent. “Nature is so merciless—but so righteous.”

This isn’t the exact sequence in which the aphorisms flowed. I wrote them down as quickly as I could, trying to follow. I wanted to know more about exactly how to focus one’s mind—to use “mind control,” in a way that would alter the metabolism of cells. We never entirely got there.

“It’s scientifically endorsed. It’s all in the books,” Hof said.

I barely had time to process one claim before he moved to the next, but if these claims are all in the books, that seems at odds with the challenge to the universities to study them.

“The cortex is the enemy,” he said. “That evil cortex needs to SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Hof was energized, and his mouth was too close to the mic there. I worried about hearing damage for the audience. The people mostly just nodded or laughed. They were roughly 99 percent light-skinned and 90 percent men, 90 percent fit-looking, and 90 percent under 40.

They regard Wim with something not less than love. The program included a 45 minute break, and when it finally arrived, a crowd flocked to The Iceman. A line formed. At least one person was in tears as he hugged him. Most wanted a photo, and many wanted to pour out their personal stories to the man. Hof’s litany of meandering and sometimes fantastical claims seemed to have done nothing to alienate anyone.

That may be because Hof is irrefutably exceptional. And his refusal of physical and logical limits is itself the source of his appeal.

Hof during a performance to raise awareness of global warming in 2010 (Kin Cheung / AP)

The Iceman

Wim Hof’s curriculum vitae includes holding his breath for six minutes, running a marathon above the Arctic circle in only shorts, and achieving a Guinness world record for the longest ice bath (nearly two hours). Hence the name.

His book Becoming The Iceman describes Hof’s initial transformation from civilian to daredevil as, at least in part, a reaction to his wife’s 1995 suicide. Looking for control, he turned to his body. In ensuing years, a second transformation seems to have taken place, the journey of self-discovery turning into an ice-based lifestyle brand. Hof, based in Amsterdam, now travels the world spreading the word, peddling medicinal claims at seminars and guided cold-weather excursions.

The Hof family has built a business around packaging and distributing Wim’s ideas, and the idea of Wim. It’s called Innerfire, and it controls intellectual property for the Wim Hof Method, which is still primarily sold by way of an online video course that leads students through exercises in breathing and cold exposure.

The method has indeed been the subject of some scientific study. In Brooklyn, Hof referred multiple times to findings published in 2014 in Proceedings of the National Academies of Sciences. Twenty-four people were injected with E. coli endotoxin, and researchers tracked their immune responses. Half the people had previously spent 10 days going through Hof’s training, and the other half had not. The former fared better once injected with the toxin, showing more effective immune responses than the control group. This led the researchers to conclude that “through practicing techniques learned in a short-term training program, the sympathetic nervous system and immune system can indeed be voluntarily influenced.”

In other words, mind control.

In a related study, tests of Hof’s blood found exceptionally high levels of the stress hormone cortisol. This is generally not desirable in the long term, but researchers have theorized that it could be related to Hof’s ability to fight infections. Still the mechanisms and basis for many of Hof’s claims remain unstudied and even implausible, based primarily on anecdotes and extrapolations of The Iceman and his many followers.

Many among the Brooklyn event staff were volunteers, motivated by devotion to Hof and free attendance at the seminar. One told me he started the method because he’s training for the Navy SEALs, and that involves enduring cold temperatures. Another was ex-military and dealing with chronic pain and PTSD. Sometimes the breathing techniques make him lose consciousness. (This is listed as a side effect on Hof’s site, in bold, underlined font: “Never practice it before or during diving, driving, swimming, taking a bath or any other environment/place where it might be dangerous to faint.” There have been reported deaths among practitioners of the method while swimming.) The fainting happens when a person’s oxygen levels get low, and the system shuts down. This sometimes does the trick of clearing one’s mind.

Among the paying attendees was Brian Van Duyne, a 25-year-old from Long Island. He doesn’t consider himself an athlete. He got into Hof after he watched a Vice documentary. It started with an innocent curiosity: “Who’s this crazy guy running in boxers along glaciers?” But Van Duyne’s interest got real after a family member of his was diagnosed with cancer. He started doing the breathing exercises—mostly long, conscious exhales—and taking cold showers. As he put it to me, speaking of cancer, “Anything that can limit my chances.”

Several hundred people sat on the Brooklyn Expo Center’s floor to listen to Hof speak. (James Hamblin)

The Power of Conscious Breathing

After the lecture at the Brooklyn seminar, everyone was invited to lie down. This was the first of two interactive portions of the afternoon. The breathing was about to begin.

Hof explained, “Breathing exercises produce brain waves.”

He asked for music to be turned on, a song he loved. Through the speakers came a cut from Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, “Breathe.”

Breathe, breathe in the air, Don't be afraid to care, Leave but don't leave me, Look around, choose your own ground

“If you’re depressed, go breathing,” Hof said. “Make some dopamine. You don’t have to go to a doctor.”

People lay down and closed their eyes. Hof directed: “In. Out. In. Out.” The commands accelerated and descended into guttural yells. When the song ended, other tracks from Dark Side played, which made less sense lyrically. At some point someone put it back to “Breathe.” The intensity of the leader’s calls and the psychedelic rock and the people lying prone, their chests rising in unison, was a lot to take in. There was about a half hour of breathing. By the end most people looked dazed, and everyone told me they felt amazing. I saw no one lose consciousness.

A less intense DIY version of the breathing regimen goes something like this: Inhale deeply from the diaphragm, then exhale slowly and fully. Repeat. After 30 or so breaths, hold on exhalation until you experience a clear need to breathe. Then inhale deeply and hold that breath as well, but only for about 10 seconds.

Many high-performing athletes swear by this and similar methods both to boost performance and focus attention. Non-athletes use it as a tool in the quest for calm and mental clarity. Still others use it to ameliorate specific symptoms, or in an attempt to curb outbreaks of oral herpes.

A Skeptic Becomes a Disciple

Among the latter is Scott Carney, a journalist who has made a career of debunking bad science. He met Hof several years ago, expecting the story of a charlatan in need of exposure. Carney put it to me straight: “When I went to meet him, I thought he was full of shit and that he was going to get people killed.”

But then Hof and Carney ended up summiting Kilimanjaro together topless.

Carney went on to write a whole book about the experience: What Doesn’t Kill Us: How Freezing Water, Extreme Altitude and Environmental Conditioning Will Renew Our Lost Evolutionary Strength. It tells readers, “Exposure to cold helps reconfigure the cardiovascular system, combat autoimmune malfunctions, and is a pretty darned good method to simply lose weight.” Hof even wrote the foreword.

I was curious to hear from Carney how that metamorphosis happened. Was he won over by a charismatic leader?

“Well, first, I separate Wim from Wim’s organization,” said Carney, “because Innerfire is — it’s become more about the money than about, you know, breaking into your body and finding something really cool.” He describes commercial pressures on Hof as external—the man himself owns little more than a handful of t-shirts and would be fine to remain that way. I didn’t get to speak with Hof directly at the event and he was unavailable afterward, but Carney gave vivid accounts of spending prolonged periods with The Iceman: “Wim is nuts. You know this, right? He’s disorganized, he smells bad, and he talks nonsense about half the time. So, he’s a flawed individual. This is how I deal with it in the book. Despite all his flaws, he imparts a bit of knowledge that’s really special. And I think only a crazy person could have started doing that.”

But how do you reconcile faith in a person who’s saying things that are only partly true, even plainly not true?

“The hype comes from Wim glomming more and more claims onto what his method can do,” said Carney. “We don’t know it can cure cancer or kill bacteria. But for autoimmune disease, and with regard to metabolism, there’s a tremendous amount of evidence. That’s something I completely believe.”

Carney has experienced very real benefits. He’s convinced that after 20 minutes of breathing, he can do twice as many push-ups. He used to get canker sores “like constantly,” but not since starting the Wim Hof Method. He still does the breathing exercises every morning, as well as cold showers, and has no plans to stop.

This gets to the point that the Wim Hof Method isn’t really a method in any traditional sense. Method implies a systematic study with an end goal, whereas this is more a set of principles—basic concepts and a couple techniques—to be continued throughout life. Cold exposure is supposed to help people train themselves to suppress a fight-or-flight response, and holding one’s breath teaches an ability to suppress a reflex to gasp. Through these exercises, you’re meant to gain a sense of control over the body’s autonomic processes.

“You could probably train yourself, using these concepts, to stop your heart,” Carney said, not lightly. “But I don’t know if you’d want to. You could train yourself to hold your pee indefinitely.”

You really think that’s possible?

“Yeah, I do. You could maintain an erection as long as you wanted to. Anything where there’s an autonomic response that you have some control over, you can train yourself to take it to an extreme,” he said. “But just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.”

“You Should Talk to Laird”

Hof isn’t the only living extremophile who harnesses this sort of focus. Nor is he the only evangelist of the effects of deliberate breathing and cold exposure.

Laird Hamilton is a legendary big-wave surfer known for death-defying rides. As the site Surfline put it, “There is no bigger set of balls in the universe than the pair in Laird Hamilton’s shorts. He continues to amaze humanity by putting himself in the most harrowing situations imaginable and emerging unscathed.”

Hamilton and Hof met several years ago, and the surfer became a vocal advocate of The Iceman—a self-described “warrior for his cause.” In 2016 Hamilton effused about the Wim Hof Method, “There’s not a person alive who wouldn’t benefit from this. Not only does it bring calmness to the spirit, but it has enhanced my performance, and I believe this is a tool I’ll be able to use in the future to combat sickness and disease.”

He still does regular ice baths year round and he believes in the health benefits. But the surfer and The Iceman have had a bit of a falling out, according to Carney, and it’s not unrelated to the fact that Hamilton is now doing his own workshops that involve ice baths and breathing exercises.

“The Making of the Iceman had a profound effect on me in my quest for, I would say, enlightenment,” Hamilton told me by phone. He has, like Hof, become a lifestyle brand—a sort of celebrity who practices medicine through media appearances, writing, videos, etc. If you live long enough, it seems, you become a lifestyle brand. While we spoke he was backstage at The View.

“I think a majority of people in the world have no conscious relationship to their breath,” he told me. I asked him if he would still consider himself a warrior for the Wim Hof cause, and he danced around that. “I think in that moment in time, I was enjoying that, and, I’m a warrior of any breath work, any type of consciousness brought to breath.”

Hamilton also said his own interest in ice pre-dates meeting Hof. “I always naturally craved ice,” he said. “Whenever I was near frozen lakes or rivers, I always went in them, since I was a kid it was an instinct. The cold is a teacher we’re drawn to. It may be because of an unconscious understanding that it benefits our health.”

There is sound science behind the idea that living in climate-controlled environments year-round affects human health, in ways good and bad. I’ve written about this before, including an adventure in wearing an ice vest and enduring a “cryotherapy” chamber, ultimately concluding that a healthy thermal environment doesn’t necessarily involve either of these things, but probably does mean spending a little more time away from the 70-ish-degree perfection so many of us have been trained to think we need in the office and at home.

There is some overlap between that idea and Hof’s more extreme message. But Hamilton plays down the uniqueness of the Wim Hof Method. He’s now more into tummo, a type of meditation that involves breathing exercises. “Wim’s technique is really a derivative of that,” said Hamilton. “I don’t know if Wim will ever say that. I would like him to say that.”

The unoriginality criticism has been raised before. Innerfire’s marketing sidesteps the matter, describing The Wim Hof Method as “similar to tummo meditation and pranayama. Yet it is something else entirely.”

Meanwhile Hamilton said his own seminars are not derived from Hof’s. His method is called XPT. A beautiful Instagram profile describes XPT as “a lifestyle system focused on breath, movement, and recovery methods.” As he clarified it to me, “XPT really is a lifestyle, and a holistic approach to health and wellness. Obviously breathing is a critical component of that. But so is diet. So are relationships. So is sport. Breath work and ice baths isn’t enough. There are all these spokes in the wheel. I spent time with Wim, but I think in the holistic approach to wellness, we’re way down the road from that.”

A crew readies the pools. (James Hamblin)

The Ongoing Quest for Adversity

The Brooklyn seminar was notably missing spokes in the health wheel. Any mention of nutrition was fleeting, and lunch was Mediterranean fare (hummus, falafel, a pile of pita bread, etc), nothing uniquely healthy. Attendees also sat the entire time—on the floor, no less. (I wasn’t sure if this was intentional. The website for the Brooklyn Expo Center doesn’t list the cost of renting 400 chairs.)

The only physical activity apart from the breathing was when everyone rose at the end and meandered out the glass doors onto the back patio. There were a handful of blue inflatable pools filled with ice. Everyone stripped down to the bathing suits they had been asked to wear. Some changed in the bathroom stalls. In groups of six or seven, they got into the pool for about a minute. Wim led his pool in singing, or sort of chanting, the chorus of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” on repeat. Other pools joined in at different times, so the overall effect was discord.

People emerged from the pools, their pale white skin blotched with red. Everyone I talked to told me some variation on “it wasn’t that bad.” All said they felt somewhere on the spectrum of good to great. It was hard to get much insight, though conversation was difficult over the singing.

At points, Hof led the crowd into the chorus of “Who Let the Dogs Out.” The who-who-who’s were chest-rumbling grunts. And then back into “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” No one rolled their eyes, or even really even hesitated to get into the pool. Many seemed to be more accepting of Hof not despite his absurdity, but because of it. A more cogent speaker may have drawn more scrutiny. More cohesive thought processes may have precluded all that he has been able to accomplish in the physical realm.

I didn’t get into the pool. I’ve been in ice water. It’s an experience that’s easy to replicate, cheaply. I don’t think all the excitement and euphoria on the patio was about that. It also wasn’t about physiological facts or research data everyone had just taken in. It seemed to be about getting close to this man who seems to have something figured out, and who makes everyone believe they can do more than they think they can. As Carney put it, “The way I deal with Wim is, I’m honest. I say there are some fucked up things about this. He makes claims that are nonsense. But if you squint your eyes, you can see the truth. It’s not quite as grand as he claims, but it’s pretty awesome.”

At 4 p.m, people dried off and looked around and realized that the program had concluded. They put their clothes back on and wandered back into the empty hall of the expo center and then out onto the street, mostly alone or in pairs, maybe a little more conscious of their breath, to find some way to experience adversity.

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2017/06/brooklyn-ice-guru/529293/?utm_source=feed

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