#but i put so many chemicals in my body it's fine

[violentbisexuality]

mmmm, stepping outside and it smells like the area i lived at in brooklyn. i am in the midwest.

#AQI here is ass #but i put so many chemicals in my body it's fine #also i got my inhaler so #lore

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x Fem! Reader

honey I’m home masterlist

TW: 18+ hospitals, trauma, crying, etc

A/N: this is a short little chapter. the next one will be longer— thank you for hanging onto this story even though it took me forever to get it started. I have most of the next chapter done so it’ll probably be posted next week.

The blue and red lights are blinking in rapid succession. Painting the curtains in washes of ruby and royal. 

  The sirens should have been loud but Eddie figured it was the blood trickling down his head and into his ear canal that was preventing him from hearing clearly. 

  He fought with the first responders. 

  Fought with the people fussing over him and trying to rush him into an ambulance. 

  He refused to leave you. 

  He didn’t need to be cared for. 

  He didn’t care about anything. 

  Only you.

  Mr. Derry’s loud knock and burst through the door was the exact distraction needed for Eddie to grip the bat in his bloody hand. 

  Rings squeezing tight around blood and the wooden handle, he swung hard. A suddenly athlete in a smokers body. He felt the thuds and friction vibrating in his forearms when the nailed head connected with flesh. But he didn’t stop until there were two crumpled bodies collapsed on the red stained carpet. 

  And when the ambulance crew met him at the door, gurney ready, you were wrapped tight in his arms. A faint pulse echoed like a whisper against your skin. Eddie’s tears streaming down his face and onto yours. 

  His promise pressed delicately to your lips.

—

  “What have we got?” 

  “According to the patient’s friend, she is twenty-one-year, sir! you need to be looked at, and lived by herself for the past few months..” 

  I’m fine! Jesus— get off me and help her! 

  “…call came in at 2208 from a Mr. William Derry— the neighbor— claiming there were screams coming from across the street of his residence on Cherry Lane. Dispatch didn’t think to respond right away due to the many calls Mr. Derry has submitted to the Police Department.”

  “Sir, I am not telling you again, you need to be checked out!” 

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “When nobody showed up, the neighbor went across the street after hearing more screaming. Patient was held up by her throat by the DOA”

  “Bill has him in truck 011, ID found on the body confirmed he was Chad Cunningham.” 

—-

Eddie is standing before you, looking the same has he did the morning g after Halloween. It’s similar but different. There’s more light in the kitchen, and he is rosy cheeked like a cherub, his movements almost floating like angel wings as he moves the carton of orange juice hp to his lips, small glints of a silver nipple ring peaking out from the cutoff shirt he wore. 

  When he speaks, it’s like a harp is playing, all song and beautiful notes, extending and echoing around the room. 

  “So when do I get this trophy sweetheart?” He says with a grin, “thinking of putting on a shelf in my room,” 

  Your laugh feels like butterflies tickling your stomach, “you can’t be serious.” 

  His head dips as he walks towards you, smile displaying the prettiest teeth, “damn straight, want the whole town to know I had the best costume!”

  “Stolen costume,”

  “Pppffft, I just borrowed it.” the wink he delivers is almost sinful, toothachingly sweet enough to give a dentist a cavity, and you melt on the spot. 

— 

“Miss? Can you tell us your name? Can you tell us anything?” 

  Sterile. 

  Chemical.

  You were either in a hospital or a morgue. You didn’t feel any pain so it very likely could be the worst of the two options. Whatever you were laying on was cold. And when you tried to move you found you couldn’t. 

  Is this death?

  Eyelids heavy and unable to cooperate and make the connection with your brain on flicking open so you could see what was happening. 

  The only thing constant was a buzzing in both ears. A tug along your eyelids and rubber glove fingers on your body. But you were trapped in your mind, unable to speak, to scream, to show any physical movements other than the involuntary rise and fall of your chest and your lungs being filled with oxygen, fed through flexible plastic of the oxygen mask placed on your face. 

  Oblivious to your surroundings. 

  “Severe trauma to both eyes, laceration to the back of the head, severe swelling and possible damage to the larynx, Katerina, what did the CT show?” 

  “CT came back clear, X-Ray showed a break to both zygomatic bones, 5th and 6th ribs and a lacerated spleen…”

  “Look at her nails, poor thing fought for her life,” 

  “they both did.” 

  You found the will to whisper what you needed to tell them. Voice hoarse and barely audible, removing the mask they look in horror back at your words, and  immediately the feeling of warm liquid entering your veins and the blur of sleep covers your body. 

—

  He visits you again, this time you know it’s a dream. The pink clouds flow behind his head even though you are standing in the living room. But it’s different, blurred on the edges, hazy sweet and refined. How heaven could be described. 

  “I look good in this don’t even lie,” Eddie says with a spin, the white cotton of your robe resembling a mini skirt on his long legs, “but if you want me to take it off all you have to do is ask, I’m a pleaser, baby.”

  He was every version of himself, handsome, gross and menacing. Sweet and caring, eye twinkling, soft voiced: Eddie. The beer taped to his hand like it was all those months ago when you splashed him awake, threatening to kick him out. 

  Delivering his classic one liners that you now knew helped fuel your love for him. 

  “What? Hair of the dog baby, gotta keep drinking to avoid a hangover.”

  And maybe your love for him was always there. 

  Showing up in the background, fluttering bird wings of your heart before you even noticed. 

  Developing into something sweeter, deeper, so heartbreakingly sick it took a disaster and almost the last pulse in your veins for you to be able to admit it. 

  -

Steve had been pacing the cream colored tiles for over thirty minutes. The squeak of his Nikes against the floor were something Eddie was trying hard to focus on instead of worrying about you in the ICU, but so far it wasn’t working.

  The nasal cannula was annoying, he could breathe fine on his own. The stitches in his eyebrow itched and stung with each weave through his skin, pulled taut around the swelling in his face. 

  The shot the nurses had administered to calm him down after screaming and trying to fight his way to you, was making his mind fuzzy— still, Steve’s pacing kept him company. Step step step squeak, step step step hand in hair, followed by an agitated huffing breath.

  A nurse with a long blond ponytail braided down her back opens the polyester curtain with a drag and slips inside the room. A black rubber and steel stethoscope around her neck, before she could introduce herself Steve exploded with fury. 

  “Tell me what the hell is going on in this poor excuse for a hospital, right now!” Steve’s hair shook from its feathered position when he spoke, his demanding voice booming across the tiles. 

  Without missing a beat and clearly dealing with high strung men before she said almost monotonously, “Sir, you need to calm yourself down, this is a h-”

  But Steve’s fire was only fueled by her dismissive tone, his voice never wavering, “No, I will not calm down! The police were made aware of this situation a year ago and nothing was ever done!” 

  The police officer standing outside guarding entry to the room tipped his head in slow, “Mr. Harrington, we hear your complaints but there isn’t anything we can—”

  “Bullshit!” A tear stain cheeked Robin sobbed, her face red and blotchy from hours of crying and rubbing her freckles clean, “Eddie told you what happened yet he’s still cuffed to a bed like a fucking criminal!”

  She broke down again, clinging to Steve’s side like a wounded child, sobbing into the soft cotton of his crewneck sweater. “This is unethical! Unco—”

  “Alright that’s enough hot shot,” Hopper shouts in finality towards Steve, a wrinkle burrowed deep in his forehead accompanied with graying thick eyebrows set in a devastating frown. 

  “Chief,” Wayne interjects, cap wringing in his calloused, wrinkle bared hands, his voice wobbly but steady, runny nose and wet tears cling to his scruffy beard, “my son was protectin’ that girl, you know Eddie…he’d never hurt someone unless his life or someone he cared about was in danger.” 

  Hopper tore his gaze from the one of the richest in the room to the poorest, hanging his head with sorrow, “ ‘m sorry, Wayne— but until Mr. Derry’s statement comes back and Eddie is cleared… the cuffs stay.” 

  Wayne hung his head low, the few wiry hairs on his balding head stuck in all sorts of directions despite his attempt at raking them into submission. 

  “Jim Hopper you should be ashamed of yourself,” Karen Wheeler spoke up now, head held high, claw clip  teetering with each gesturing movement of her head, “you know good and well this boy couldn’t have done that to her! They loved each other!” 

  Since the pacing of Steve’s feet had stopped Eddie’s heart rattled hard in his chest, he clawed at the heart monitors on his chest, tried to bite the IV’s from his arms, caged like a wild animal he let out a broken cry, “ple— please, she needs me.”

  “Mr. Munson,” the nurse with blonde hair replies sternly, “she is in critical condition, we don’t know if or when she will be able to to recover, she is heavily sedated and needs rest, her only visitors will be family at this time.” 

  “Speaking of,” another nurse chirps, young and fresh gilled, entirely too eager to please her superior, “do you know how to get a hold of her family?”

  He shakes his head slow, causing a pounding headache, “I am her family,” Eddie grunts through clenched teeth, pushing himself up on the bed as far as his cuffs would allow, Steve’s hand on his shoulder. “Look around this room! Ted and Karen Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Nancy Byers.. we are all she has,” a single tear falls down his bruised cheek, liquid salt in the cut in his top lip. 

  “Okay sir.. who is responsible for her?” 

  “In regards to what? Financially? You money hungry pricks just don’t let up so you?,” Ted Wheeler finally speaks behind his wife, shock and anger evident on his wrinkled features.

  “Not exactly…”

  “Whatever it is, I will handle it, alright?” Eddie interjects, annoyed with the questions, worried only about you, “I’m responsible for her.”

  “Oh,” the nurse says, perking up slightly, marking a red check mark on her clipboard, smoothing out her uniform, “so you are aware of her condition then.” 

  Light bulbs click for everyone in the room but the curly brown haired metal head. 

  Oh my God

  …Tooty

  Holy shit.

  “That she got the shit kicked out of her by that fucking psycho Chad Cunningham?”

  Eddie.

  Ma’am can we talk privately in the hall? 

  “…obviously I’m aware! I was there when it happened! That dumb fuck already took my statement!” he said gesturing to Deputy Wallace. 

  “No, Mr. Munson..”

  This isn’t the time for this! Wayne tried to warn the nurse, but it fell on deaf, naive ears.

  “…she’s right around twelve weeks pregnant.” 

  A pin dropping could have been heard from a mile away. The oxygen was sucked from the room. Karen’s hand was clapped around her mouth. Nancy and Robin choked back sobs.  

  Everyone was struck with horror, but not Eddie. 

  His mind playing that beautiful night between you like a movie in his head. The way your skin felt, the way his heart ached with fullness at your shared fervor and passion. 

  REWIND

  PLAY

  The curve of your lips on his skin, kissing him sweet and slow, no noise, just the love making swallowing you both whole. 

  REWIND 

  PLAY

  PAUSE 

  Your soft snores as he counted the popcorn marks in the ceiling, his girl. His entire universe. 

  STOP

  EJECT 

  The tears rolled like a ferocious river down his face, carving a path down his cheeks and under his wobbling chin, wetting the hospital gown he was forced into when he got here. 

  You were alone.

  He didn’t know anything about pregnancy besides the woman usually got sick right? Every emotion that most men feel when finding out they were going to be a dad hit him all at once. 

  But not fear. 

  He imagined you with a big swollen belly, feet too pudgy to fit into shoes, he’d rub them with lotion until you could fall asleep. 

  He’d imagined his arms holding you from behind, your baby wrapped in his arms still in your womb. The relief you might feel from the weight being in his hands. 

  You were experiencing this pain all by yourself. 

  He couldn’t fathom how you were feeling. Scared. Hopeless? He had no idea. And the thought of you being alone had him nauseous. 

  Why didn’t you didn’t tell him?  

  Why didn’t anyone tell him? 

  His fury built and shook as his voiced boom with grief as he screamed at Steve, dark eyes blood shot and red rimmed. 

  “How could you,” he broke, struggling through the words, "why would you not tell me?!” The cuffs around his wrist broke skin as he tried to claw his way out of them, trying to reach at Steve’s shirt demanding to be heard. 

  “Ed— fuck man!” Steve started, mouth gaping at Eddie’s arms dripping with blood from his fresh wounds, “we didn’t know!” 

  Robin speaks now, trying to reach for Eddie’s hand to offer him some comfort, “She didn’t tell us, Eddie—Steve is right, she didn’t say a word to any of us about it.” 

  “Fuck!” Eddie screams, slamming his wrists into the bed sides, “I sh—should h-have..,” the end falls silent as his long legs were pulled to his chin and he buried his head into them. 

  In the minutes it had been since he found out, he was already a shitty fucking dad.

  The pain of what happened to you and him not being able to stop it quick enough was killing him, and now, realizing that you were carrying his child and you were all alone? 

  There weren’t words for the gut wrenching feeling ripping through him. Overwhelming dread, chest tight with panic and pain. The nausea overtaking him. The vomit came fast, splashing allover himself and the bed, landing in thick puddles on Steve’s shoes. He cried harder and sobbed uncontrollably. When his stomach was empty he could only dry heave. 

  Wayne moved across the tiled floor in quick steps, careful not to slip in the wayward puke in his path. Sitting down hard and with purpose next to Eddie. This wasn’t his first rodeo of seeing Eddie in this turmoil. But never as a grown man. 

  He tried his hardest to hold back the tears he swore he’d never let fall in front of his boy, but gravity won the fight when Eddie pulled him into a bone crushing hug, his sobs snuffed by the canvas of his work jacket. 

———

It was a full 12 hours before Mr. Derry’s statement was released. Tough old bird, he couldn’t be coerced even with the gentle threat from the Cunningham’s came down hard breathing down his neck. 

  Surely not their son? Their angel?

  But the proof was there. An eye witness statement and a severely beaten woman, the record from years past and the statement from both Steve and Robin on what happened last year at your apartment, stood its ground. 

  Eddie was cleared as a free man, self defense in the eyes of the law. The second his cuffs were off he was throwing his boots onto his gripper socked feet, and untangling himself from wires and needles. 

  Steve and Wayne had both taken off work to help Eddie pick up his medication and make him go home and rest. When he tried to protest, Wayne gave Eddie a look that could pierce steel, the kind of look saying no bullshit, and begrudgingly he followed the men out to Steve’s Mercedes. 

  Nancy and Karen stayed behind at the hospital, filling your room with heavily perfumed flowers. Hushed whispers between the mother and daughter as they prayed and hoped that you would make it out of this horrific nightmare. 

  The doctors would only speak to Eddie. Letting him aware that your condition was improving but they would not be able to lift the sedation just yet. A day passed then another. Eddie slept in the hospital grade recliner in your room each night. Singing you sweet lulls of your favorite song. Promising you the world if you would just open your eyes. 

  He was weak himself. Fighting the urge to break down in front of anyone again with each hour that passed. 

-

4 days led to 5 and the nurses and doctors whispered behind their clipboards. On the 6th day they decided to lift the sedation to see how your body would tolerate pain. 

  Eddie never left. 

  Machines beeped and ticked. Tubes and wires connecting from you drip with fluid and monitoring systems. The white walls and outdated curtains of the hospital shine a yellowed glow into your room, bringing with it a warmth to your cotton thread blanket and warming the skin on your arms. A welcomed feeling compared to the cold needles of the IV poking into your skin delivering flows of medicine and liquids to keep you hydrated and your pain manageable. 

  Foiled balloons printed with get well wishes bounce and sway with the kick on from the vent. 

  One of your hands is unexpectedly warmer than the other. A rough drag across the knobs of your knuckles is a familiar feeling, and you smell him before you even open your eyes to acknowledge that it’s him. 

  The clinging smell of cigarettes on a freshly washed shirt and the spice of deodorant force their way into your nose. It’s a different shampoo than the one you’re used to catching on him. More manly. All sandalwood and musk a hint of citrus. And at first you think he’s someone else… maybe Steve picked up smoking heavily again?

  But when a tuned hum reverberates low against your hand followed by a pair of lips kissing gently around the IV and tape poked and laid against your skin, you know for certain it’s the man you’ve been dreaming about. 

  The one you cried for. 

  The one who visited your sleeping mind and told you everything was going to be okay.

  His name falls from your lips like choked frozen honey, thick in your mouth and on a dry tongue. 

  It was the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. 

  His girl. His whole world. Awake.

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #fic recs #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things

[prismatic-bell]

You know, I’m 35 and get told on a regular basis that people think I’m in my early 20s. I usually tell them it’s because I hydrate and mind my own business. But the truth is this: I do actually have a whole-body skincare routine, and I’m going to share it because THE COMPANIES ARE LYING TO YOU and I am going to save you so much time, worry, money, and counter space. It’s ten steps and they’re easy:

1) HYDRATE. Hydrate hydrate hydrate. Dehydration is the little death that brings chapped lips, flaking skin, and hangnails. Drink water. Drink fruit juice. Drink coffee, I don’t fucking care. Anything that puts more water into your body than it removes (which translates to “anything nonalcoholic”). Hydrate.

2) take a multivitamin. There are many out there. Do research if you want to. I take Centrum. Keep in mind this is not a replacement for meals and proper nutrition! It’s more like putting a high-quality patch on a hole in your wall. Micronutrients in particular can be hard to get and vitamins are good for those.

3) fuck your fancy facewash. I use a blend of two parts rubbing alcohol to one part each of rosewater and witch hazel—just dump your constituent parts in a mason jar and shake it. The rosewater and alcohol both lift dirt, the alcohol dissolves excess oil but it’s weak compared to specialized chemicals so it’s not stripping your skin, and witch hazel is a mild astringent that kills bacteria and moisturizes at the same time. Just wipe your skin gently once a day using a cotton round. (I actually have reusable ones, they’re great.) if you have super-dry skin you can use a moisturizer at this point, but I have normal-to-oily skin and have never needed one.

4) only wash your hair twice a week, but comb it every day with a fine-toothed wooden comb to prevent dandruff and stimulate blood flow to your scalp.

5) get an Italy cloth. I swear these things are magic. You just sit in the bath until your fingers just barely start to go pruney and then you rub it all over like a washcloth and it lifts off all the dead skin (don’t use it on your face, the skin is more delicate). You can literally see it come off, it’s so gross and so satisfying at the same time. Do it about once a week. Make sure you hang it up to dry after, and wash it regularly. (Also: Italy cloths do not kill bacteria, so you do still need soap. That’s okay, because washing after will also help remove any bits of dead skin that didn’t rinse away.)

6) fuck your fancy shampoo (if you have white-person hair). Mix apple cider vinegar with tea tree conditioner about 1:1 and soak your hair with it. Let it sit while you bathe. Rinse it out. Astonish hairdressers.

7) pick a fruit/veggie-based snack and reach for it when you’re idly hungry. Look, I get it, junk food tastes great and cooking vegetables is hard. (Believe me, I know.) That is why you do this. I go for veggies dipped in ranch or a cream cheese spread, or apples dipped in peanut butter. (You know what’s REALLY good, if you have the time and spoons? Mix the peanut butter with raisins and then slather the apples with it. Yum.) I’m not saying don’t have a piece of cake. I’m saying when you’re what the Brits call “peckish,” you can cheat and get some of your necessary fruit and veggies this way. It’s also super-helpful if you, like me, are neurodivergent and often forget to eat.

8) make cartoon faces. No, really! Your face was made to move. Puff up your cheeks, squeeze your eyes shut tight, move the muscles in any direction you can make work. You’ll find you feel more relaxed after, and when your face is more relaxed it’s not creating stress lines. (Wrinkles are beautiful, but speaking for myself I’d rather have crow’s feet and smile wrinkles than the angry line my mom had down the middle of her forehead.)

9) get a hobby that relaxes you, preferably a tangible one. Stress is bad for every part of you—your brain, your mental state, your heart, your kidneys, your skin. All of it. The skin is an organ. Treat it as such, and manage your stress.

And finally:

10) makeup ages you. MAKEUP AGES YOU. MAKEUP AGES YOU!!! Makeup blocks pores from doing their job; makeup mixes with sebum (your face’s natural and necessary oils) to create blackheads and whiteheads; the aggressive rubbing you may do to remove makeup causes microtears in your skin. MAKEUP IS NOT GOOD FOR YOU. If you want to wear makeup (or it’s required for your job or the world is stupid and racist and is forcing aggressive femininity on you) try to find powders instead of creams, look for the makeups with the fewest possible ingredients, invest in a good makeup remover, and don’t wear it everyday.

That’s it, that’s the ten steps I use to keep my skin healthy. Take care of yourself and mostly leave your body alone. It knows what to do.

[luesmainblog]

With those manscaped ads going around again, here is a reminder to my penis-having friends out there: Do not put anything scented on your junk. I’m serious. It sounds harmless, especially since you have a closed sexual system, but it can genuinely be a very dangerous thing to be doing for a number of reasons. 1. You never know if you’re allergic to a product until you use it. Do you REALLY want to find out you’re allergic to some super specific scent oil mix because you put it on your nuts? 2. Whatever is on your balls will end up rubbing onto your underwear, and as you move throughout the day, it will inevitably make its way to your urethra. It may only be a little bit, but if your urinary track is sensitive enough, that can lead straight to a UTI. Believe me, those are incredibly not fun. 3. But let’s say you only wear it during naked times. Totally fine, right? Nope; you’re STILL at a risk for a UTI because of how scent actually works. When you smell something, it’s because there are particles of that thing in the air, and those particles make it into your nose and your nose essentially “tastes” those particles. Now, for most stuff, that’s fine. However, those tiny particles - when there’s enough of them - can still make their way into your urethra over time if they’re close enough, and once again, that can lead to an infection because there is a foreign matter in your pee hole that doesn’t belong there. (this is the reason so many vages end up with UTIs when using scented pads, when normal pads don’t do anything to them. it’s the scent particles.) 4. This product is given to you alongside masculine grooming items, and if you think it’s difficult to shave your knees, you’re about to learn the fear of god the first time you try to shave your nuts. this goes double for especially wrinkly folks. Now, shaving is entirely your choice, but imagine getting deodorant in a bleeding nick on your NUTS. can you say Ow? and god forbid that thing get infected because you introduced a foreign entity your body didn’t like. I don’t think anyone wants infected balls. 5. The following can also apply to any partner you may have if you’ve freshly put it on, or if you’ve been wearing it around all day in a pair of underwear or pants(again, that stuff’s gonna end up rubbing onto the rest of you). So even if YOU’RE not allergic, or sensitive to UTIs, your other half might not want to suddenly get hives in her vag, or a sudden yeast infection, or a frot-induced UTI because you got yourself all deodoranted up before funtimes. none of this even gets into the possibility of irritation, the risk of spraying on one spot for too long(chemical burns on your balls, bro, never fun), the fact that scents could end up masking a change in your scent that would normally alert you to go see a doctor, there are MULTIPLE reasons to consider whether or not you REALLY need to put deodorant down there. I don’t know if this post will blaze, as the message is inherently nsfw, but I sincerely hope it will. You shouldn’t use ball deodorant for the same reasons you shouldn’t use scented pads, and you ESPECIALLY should not be putting a scented SPRAY anywhere near your pee hole. obviously this is all a personal risk thing, some people will be able to go 15 years perfuming the hell out of their sack and never face a problem, but it genuinely worries me that this is being advertised as totally normal, sexy, and risk-free. I just want the public to be informed; y’all might not be as used to the ways beauty companies will lie and hurt you for a quick buck. Be safe out there, and please, take good care of your sack.

#PSA #manscaped #manscaped ad #ball deodorant #manscaped ball deodorant #this psa does apply to those who plan to remove their balls at a later date - you don't want an infection drawing even more attention there. #full disclosure i'm not a doctor #i'm just someone who has had and seen some BAD reactions to scented products in the no no zones and wants to protect others from it.

[ddejavvu]

hiiiii this is my first time requesting <33 I saw you’re open to writing au’s so I was wondering if you could do a dog owner!au for matt murdock where his guide dog and the reader’s dog tie them together with their leashes like that scene from the beginning in 101 dalmatians? thank you!

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

--

Technically speaking, Matt doesn't need a guide dog. His senses keep him pretty well-protected, but sometimes there's a curb he doesn't see, or a fire hydrant that he doesn't smell the chemical paint on. Even his stick has its flaws, and after the last one had gotten jammed in a gutter drain, he'd made some innovations to his life.

Said adaptation's name is Sadie. She's a sweet dog, damn good at her job, and if he had to guess, probably cute as a button. She's helped him cross one-too many silent crosswalks for him to ever doubt her skills.

Which is why he's infinitely confused when her leash catches on something. She's always aware of how it feels, when it's too tight or too loose, when it's snagged on a bush, anything that could put the strain on Matt instead of her. So when he waits for her to rearrange it and she doesn't, he stops in his tracks.

"Sadie.." He calls tentatively, "Honey, where are you?"

"Oh," he hears a voice beside him, one that he'd been too caught up in worrying to hear before, "She's checking out my dog! I hope that's okay," You worry, and Matt's chest pulses strangely at the sweet tone of your words, "She came right up to us and.. well.. you hadn't stopped her, and I didn't know-"

"It's fine," He assures you, hoping that his smile is charming, "She just doesn't usually approach anyone else. She's my seeing eye dog, and I thought she had work procedure down pretty well. But I guess dogs will be dogs, sometimes."

"She's cute," You gush, and he chuckles as he feels a wet nose against his fingertips, then a paw on his stomach, different in size to Sadie's.

"Oh, that's my boy! Sorry," You chuckle, but Matt's fingers curl against the dog's scalp to scratch at his fur, "He doesn't normally jump up at people like that."

"It's alright," He promises, feeling your dog's tail against the back of his legs as he curves around, "What kind of dog is he?"

"Oh, I'm not sure," You hum, "He's a mutt."

"Well he seems very sweet," Matt hums, feeling a tug on Sadie's leash that compels him forwards a few steps, "Oh- uh, sorry. She's a little rough for some reason."

"It's okay!" You giggle, but he feels the toes of your shoes bump against his own with another yank on Sadie's leash, "Oh- wait!"

Your hand grabs his and he latches on in a panic, his other flying to a part of your body that he hopes isn't obscene before he can identify it. He thinks it's your waist, but it's maybe more your stomach from the way it feels when you shift.

"They're- hey, stop running!" You plead, and a short bark comes from your dog that Matt laughs at.

"Are they tangling us up?" He tests out a flex of his calves, feeling leashes wound tight around the muscles there.

"I think so," You breathe, the puff of air hitting his shoulder as your voice hovers beside his face, "I'm sorry, uh..."

"Matt," He squeezes the hand of yours that he's still holding, giving it a shake, "And you are?"

"Y/N," You supply, laughing at your makeshift handshake, "Does your seeing eye dog usually tangle you up like this? That seems counter-intuitive."

"You know, I can't say she has before," He laughs, and he hears your mouth shift as you release a giggle. He imagines a smile on your face, bright and cheery, as your eyes crinkle at the corners with your laugh.

"I'll have to remind her of her training when we get home," He teases, but what he's really planning is an abundance of treats for Sadie, and a special seat of honor at the picnic he's already imaging the two of you at.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock scenario #matt murdock oneshot #matt murdock one-shot #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock headcanon #matt murdock headcanons #matt murdock hc #matt murdock hcs #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock blurb #matt murdock drabble #matt murdock dialogue #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader fanfiction #matt murdock au

[melodiousmonsters]

Finally these things are done, pushed them off for a while and regretted it, but they're done now and I practically have the whole month ahead of me to work on this month's stuff. Anyway grumpyres. Again because I remembered to put them here stuff in italics and parentheses are author's notes and not an in universe statement.

"Ferrara hemecome average around 4ft/1.2m in average diameter with a 14ft/4.2m wingspan with the largest pair of wings. Their eye color is always blood red as there’s no pigment in them, their pupils vary from round to slit. They have microscopic scales on their wings that come off when flapped that cause a black sooty dust to surround them as they fly.

Grumpyre get most of their energy from blood, with some of their nutrients coming from small critters as a small yet important part of their diets. To feed and hunt they smell the air for the sent of living things (it’s CO2, but the monsters don’t know what chemicals are because they haven’t invented a way to detect them yet) with both their (non-existent) noses and scent receptors on the back half of their tongues, often making a weird face while doing so, well, they make weird faces all the time actually. When they lock onto a scent they follow it and determine what to do next depending on what they find. If it’s a small critter they either eat it or ignore it. If it’s a large critter like the marsh elk of the shadow lands they will follow it to its resting spot and wait for it to fall asleep. Once it sleeps they sneak up to the critter and tear a large gash into it with their snaggled teeth and lap up the blood. The wound is most often not dangerous to the critters they feed from and they can usually go about their day after the grumpyre feed. Sometimes it may get infected but that’s not the grumpyre’s fault, making them the most ethical carnivores of the monsters.

Grumpyre sleep in crevices to protect themselves from predation. To navigate tight areas where they can’t fly their sharp talons are used to clamber around caves, hollow logs, etc. They will then crawl up to the highest most out of reach area to sleep as some of their predators are quite tall and may be able to pluck them off the wall if they sleep too low. They wrap themselves up with their wings for warmth as they tend to run at a very low body temperature but prefer to be warmer to sleep.

The holes in their wings that are commonly seen are a result of parasitism. There’s a species of moths that eat holes in grumpyre’s wings called shade-cave moths as they are after the elasticin fibers that allow for their wings to stretch in flight. It has been theorized grumpyre sleep with their wings wrapped around them to minimize the amount of areas the moths can get to. 

Something they are falsely known for is having reversed emotions. Instead of having that they have unique expressions that don’t really look like any known emotion. Each grumpyre has a different set of emotions unique to it. But sometimes a parent and a child grumpyre may have the same face for the same feeling."

Varients

(F. hemecome rectadens) Jyacob’s grumpyre(Named after the Jacob's sheep)"Jyacob was just one of my friends from back in the day, they were a Flum Ox, I miss them. One of the downsides to being suspended in time is that you outlast everyone else you know. Anyways, it had some impressive horns like these grumpyre, so I decided to name them after it (I asked some of the grumpyres, they were fine with me memorializing my friend with their sub-species' common name). Their eyes are always slit and they have green to blue irises that take up the entirety of their visible eye. They also have six wings which makes them more agile fliers, necessary to keep their horns from bumping into things.

A less noticeable but important trait to them is that they have straight teeth, unlike the janky ones the commons have. This makes them a little bit worse at tearing open as many blood vessels as possible so they rely much more on small prey than blood from larger critters."

(F. hemecome alabaster) Albino grumpyre: These grumpyre are what happens when albinism affects a grumpyre, the rest of the unique traits seem to be attached to whatever causes albinism in monsters (Guess what, this guy is so wrong. Albino grumpyre aren’t albino as they have pigmented eyes. Monsters don’t know that genes do anything or even exist so they have no idea what they are talking about). Instead of relying on scent to get fed they use their massive ears to hear for breathing, they are hypersensitive to the sound of breathing and can detect it from a mile away. They also don’t have those janky teeth but instead they have hollow front teeth they sink into a blood vessel and then just drink up the blood through them like a really weird straw. 

They also don’t have enough fur to protect them from the sun, causing them to constantly have to regenerate damaged skin causing weird growths. Eventually even the growths fall off leaving dents, but they do have an increased ability to repair their skin so the dents only last a few days."

"Grumpyre live in mostly dark and wet places, so the shadow lands of the pocket dimension. Their cryptic spotting and dark colors allow for perfect camouflage in the dim dark woods. They are middle-of-the-food-chain carnivores similar to cats, which also call the shadow lands home; it seems the marshes breed those types of beasts.

Grumpyre may live in social groups or alone, a group of grumpyre is called a colony or a flock. These inconsistent social preferences are simply because of the way shadow monsters are, they are very unique compared to other monsters and even to each other in some cases. Some love being around others and some can’t stand it. The ones that aren’t opposed to living in a group will often sleep in large groups with some clusters of grumpyre that find comfort in physical contact while some will be on their own."

(A quick drawing of a grumpyre chick I did because I want to ease into drawing baby monsters for these)"Grumpyre eggs will hatch pretty much anywhere, very hardy. Grumpyre chicks are as unique as the adults can turn out. Some may start doing things very early, some will seem to be on developmental track and then regress, some will take longer. They start out with one pair of wings then grow the rest over the course of their development. Older grumpyre tend to get shaggier fur on the bottom half of their bodies."

A fun note I didn't know where to include is that grumpyre can't taste sugar, some animals in real life can't taste it like cats, and grumpyre are based on them so they can't taste sugar.

#my singing monsters #art #beezleart #melodious monster chronicles #grumpyre

[xdivyxd]

I know my love should be celebrated (pt.1)

Pt.2 can be found here :)

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Word count : 1170

Description : this is just pure angst, like not even a little bit of happiness. Based on the song ' tolerate it' by Taylor Swift :)

Warnings: none? Lmk if I'm wrong:)

"Hi" i said as i walked out of my room, Gerard just got home from the studio.

his band, my chemical romance is recording their new record and he had been getting home late each night and leaving early each morning, i bearly get to see him anymore.

"Hi" he says without looking at me and lying down on the couch "i made dinner cuz you said you would come home early today but it's cold now" he looked at me frustrated, as if i said something wrong "i couldn't get away early y/n, why are you attacking me?" i felt my heart ache  a bit at how harsh his voice sounded.

I went to the kitchen, taking the fancy plates that i took out just for tonight and put them back in their cabinets, trying to control my emotions, trying to understand my boyfriend.

'He loves me, he's just tired and this album is important to him' i keep repeating in my head, breathing deeply. 'He's not tired of you, it's just from all the work he's doing'

"I am not attacking you Gee I was just saying" i responded to his question, and took a sit next to him on the couch handing him a cup of tea "how was today? What did you record?" I looked at him as he put the cup on the table and got up "it was fine, I'm really tired I'm gonna go to bed"

I nodded, mumbling a quiet 'good night'.

I steard at the cup of tea that he didn't even take one sip of, he did not say good night. It felt like he care about me anymore.

I decided to leave the cup of tea in the living room, along with my sadness and just go to bed, maybe if I'll wake up tomorrow before he leaves to the studio he'll be in a better mood and it'll be better.

I got in bed next to Gerard, looking at him breathing peacefully, i smiled to myself and closed my eyes, slowly falling asleep.

When i woke up in the morning, reaching out to Gerard's side of the bed only to find it empty, my heart broke, i missed him again..

I got up and walked to the kitchen, i poured myself a cup of coffee and looked through the paper for a while before getting ready for work.

When i got home at night from my shift Gerard was sitting in the living room watching TV and drinking coffee

"We need to talk" i said as soon as i saw him, all day i was thinking about the state of our relationship in the past few weeks and i hated it.

I hated the way he made me feel, desperate to be included in his life, begging to be a part of his story.

"Alright" he said, a bit concerned, and i set down next to him, looking at his face, and all i could think about how this might be the last time I'm seeing his face.

"Why do you hate me?" Those are not the words i wanted to say to him, this is not how i wanted to start this conversation, but my mouth was faster then my mind..

"I don't hate you, why would you even think that?" His voice was soft, his hand resting on my thigh "y/n what's going on?"

I blinked, is he dumb? Or is he just acting dumb?

"You're tolerating me instead of loving me" his once soft gaze, turned into a mixture of sadness and anger

"I do love you y/n" i shook my head "it's not what i mean" i simply said and got up from my spot on the couch, i had so many feelings trapped inside of my body i just had to get up and walked it off, i couldn't sit still.

"So explain to me, what do you mean?" He got a bit frustrated, i could feel that he did not want to hace this conversation right now, but i didn't care.

"You go to the studio every morning so early, you don't even leave a note, you don't call at all throughout the day, you come home late every night, you don't say a word to me, how am i supposed to feel about that?" i said throwing my arms up in frustration

"I need to go to the studio, it's my job y/n." Now he also got up, now this conversation turned into a fight

"Would you stop saying my name like that?!" My voice got a bit higher than usual, which happens when i get mad

"Like what?" He said and let out a frustrated breath

"Like it's disgusting you, like i annoy you, like you're patronizing me." I felt a lump in my throat and i tried very hard not to cry.

"I'm not patronizing you, I'm trying to understand what do you want me to do" i rolled my eyes "i want you to show me that you love me and not only say that you do. Cuz at this point i don't really believe you anymore"

"I am doing everything i can! I want you to be happy but i have a career to maintain. My band mates, my friends, are counting on me."

"And i am supporting your career Getard but goddammit i also count on you! I need you too Gerard!" I raised my voice and this time a few tears fell down my checks, i wiped them with the back of my hand and looked at him, i saw that his heart was breaking, i can see it in his eyes..

"Can we just go to bed and talk about it tomorrow? I'm really tired i had a long day today" he asked and looked at me with a, now, blank expression on his face.

Of course he wasnts to take a break from the fight, cuz it doesn't matter what i need or feel "no we can't go to bed, we either do this now or we're done. I don't deserve to feel like this."

As soon as i said it i regretted it, i hoped he would keep talking to me, that he would not walk away from us, that he would tell me he's sorry and it'll change.

I hoped he won't end us.

"Then i guess we're done" he said quietly, i can see the heartbreake in his eyes

"Gerard.." i whispered as he put on his shoes and jacket and opened the door to our home "I'll stay at Mikey's tonight"

I couldn't believe he would just walk away from us, from me..

He closed the door as tears ran down my face "no please" i said as a sob escaped my lips as i walked outside after him, but he was already gone, i was left alone, sobbing, stranding in front of our house, hoping he would come back.

But he didn't

#gerard way x reader #gerard x reader #Gerard way #x reader #mcr x reader #my chrmical romance #my chem gerard #my chemical romance x reader #my chem x reader #Spotify

[quicktosimp]

To Become One

Kinktober Day 09

Neteyam/Human!Reader

A/N: This was way longer than I originally thought it would be, 3.5k words 💀

This is really more fluffy than anything

Warnings: Aged up!Characters, Accidental Stimulation, Neural Queue Play, Mating, Alien Genitalia, Culture Differences

Thank you @pandoraslxna for putting this together for all of us 💕

Eclipse on Pandora was my favorite. The forest is completely aglow during the night. I have always loved the natural bioluminescence, especially from the sky. Neteyam had promised that he would take me out flying tonight, something we have missed doing due to our busy schedules. Neteyam, being the lead warrior for the hunting party, and I’ve been leading a new research project to allow humans to breathe Pandora’s air; neither of us have been together recently. But the hunting party has returned, and the feast was last night, so tonight is just for us. 

I had just finished cleaning up my station for the night when I heard the airlocks engage. Looking over, I see Neteyam wearing the oxygen mask around his neck so he can take the occasional sips of air. I watch as he looks around, and his eyes finally settle on me; the beautiful green cat-like eyes brightened when they landed on me. The wrinkles atop his brown lessening. Neteyam has never liked being in the human labs. Between the smell of the metal and chemicals and the coldness on his bare feet, he avoids the labs if possible. However, sometimes, he will come to my station to pick me up, or he’ll join me in my room, as he enjoys my lack of mask. 

“Teyam!” My surprise was evident; we weren’t supposed to meet at the base of the hallelujah mountains for another hour.

A soft smile graced his face, “I wished to see you sooner, ma Syulang. I also wished to walk you to the base of the mountain. The moon is dark tonight.”

Neteyam walks over and kneels next to my chair, bringing our faces close together; he leans down and places a kiss on my forehead before kissing my lips sweetly. 

“Thank you, Love. I just need to finish packing these files, and then we can be on our way.” I place another kiss on his lips and run my hand through his braids, ending at the base of his skull. A shiver runs through his body as I pull away, looking dazed. 

I head back to cleaning my stuff, wanting to finish so I have more time with Neteyam. While cleaning, I grab my inhaler; the closest thing I have to be able to breathe Pandora’s air is to ‘cure’ the toxicity. Instead, now I only have to use this every hour, and I can breathe with little difficulty. Use it more than five times, and I’ll end up with a nasty lung infection. But it’s worth it to be with Neteyam longer. As I walk back to Neteyam, I notice that he still seems dazed, and his face is flushed. 

I placed my hands on Neteyam’s face to see if he was feverous, “Are you feeling alright, Neteyam? Your face is warm and flushed.”

“I am fine,” He whispered, looking at me quizidly. 

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Are you sure? If you are feeling ill, then I do not want you out at night, and I will accompany you home.” 

Neteyam cleared his throat and stood, “I am well, ma Syulang; you do not need to worry. Now, why don’t we start our journey so that we may fly for longer.” He offered me his hand.

As we began our trek through the forest, I would become distracted by all the little things of the forest. No matter how many times I see them, I fall in love with them again. Neteyam would follow me to every plant, insect, and fungi I saw. Holding my hand as I rambled on about each subject, every time I looked back, he always had a soft smile.

“Ma Syulang, we may never reach the ikrans at this rate.” Neteyam gently pulled me away and back onto the path. 

“I know, Love, I can’t get over the beauty of the forest. I worry that if I don’t stop to respect it, then maybe one day I will forget.” I admit.

Pulling me into his arms, Neteyam places a finger under my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye, “The day that you forget Eywa’s beauty unheard of. You find love in every little thing. The day you fear will never come.”

“Thank you, Teyam.” I smile and let him carry me as we continue our journey; he will have to carry me once we reach the mountain base anyway. Once the rock wall was in view, Neteyam moved me so I was hanging off his back, my arms wrapped around his neck. His braids swayed as he climbed, hitting my face every now and then. His one long braid never had any beads; I was always curious about it. It’s special for the na’vi, the kuru, their neuro link, the way they connect to the animals, and to Eywa herself. The braid was perfect, not a hair out of place. 

Shifting so I was hanging on with one arm, I reached out and touched his braid near the base of his skull. The hair was smooth, more so than the rest of his beaded hair. It was like holding a perfect silk rope. It's thick and has a decent weight to it. I understand why it’s called a neuro whip now. My hold is gentle but firm as I skim down to a lower part of the braid. While the braid is still the same thickness, underneath, I can feel the kuru is smaller in this area. 

“Paskalin… What… What are you doing, my love?” Neteyam asks, his voice coming out in shallow breaths. 

I reel back in shock, “Neteyam, what is with your breathing? You are sick, aren’t you?” Never letting go of his kuru, “Love, you need rest! Let’s head back to your hammock, so you can rest,”

He turns his head to look at me; like earlier, his eyes are blown wide, and he’s looking at me, shocked, like he cannot believe what I’m saying, “Love, I am more than fine. I am ecstatic that you have been so bold today,” 

I paused, thinking of what he meant. We have always been physically close and have never hesitated to play with one another's hair. I returned to playing with his kuru nonpulsed, loving the silky feel. A deep rumble comes from Neteyam’s chest. I recognize his purr anywhere, but this one sounded deeper. Curious, I start from the top of his kuru, near his skull, and stroke down to the bottom of his braid. 

“Oh fuck.”

‘Did Neteyam just cuss? No, he would never cuss. Let alone use an English one. It’s just the wind.’

At the bottom of his braid, I noticed the pink tendrils slipping, peeking out from between the strands of his hair. I bring them close to my face. I had never seen them this close before. They wave in the air, almost like they’re happy to be seen. Neteyam’s breathing becomes labored, but I won't scold him again. He’s a grown man, and he won't listen anyway. 

I bring a single finger close to the tendrils, and they wrap around my digit. They’re the softest thing I have ever felt, more delicate than the softest of silk. I flex my fingers, feeling as they form and follow each movement. 

“Syulang!” Neteyam moans. His head thrown back, and his eyes squeezed shut. 

“Teyam?” I ask, completely bewildered. 

“Oh, Syulang, you are so bold today. Making me feel so good. But unless you want us to meet Eywa tonight, please let go of my kuru.” He moans.

I gently pulled the tendrils away, watching as they return to hiding inside his braid. I let go and return to holding onto his neck. Slowly, his breathing returns to normal, deep laboring breaths evening out, and he returns to climbing. 

The top of the cliff is gorgeous, allowing me to see all of the hallelujah mountains, but right now, I am more interested in the sight in front of me. Neteyam is covered in a sheen of sweat, unusual for him as this is a typical climb. His eyes are blown wide, and his pupils are dark and overtake most of his eyes.  His mouth is agape, and a beautiful flush covers his face. I had never seen him like this before.

Neteyam falls to knees, kneeling before me, “Yawntutsyìp,” He pauses to lick his lips, “I know we have talked about mateship and working on the species specifics, but Yawntutsyìp, I did not think you would get so impatient.” His voice is breathless, his face expresses a mix of bliss, confusion, and awe.

I am even more baffled than I was before. Unsure where this has come from. Neteyam grabs my hands, leading them to hold his face. He nuzzles into the touch.

Chuckling, he continues, “Although I did not think you would propose to me on the cliffside. But you have gotten me fully ready to mate. I am open and ready for you. Do you wish to change our plans for tonight? I know a beautiful spot, perfect for us to mate at.” Neteyam asks, a bashful smile covering his face.

“Neteyam…” I whisper. My eyes are wide, but I am confused. Neteyam says I proposed to him, but he just proposed to me entirely out of the blue, but that does not change my answer, “Yes, I want to mate with you.” I smile, tears pricking my eyes. 

Neteyam stands, picks me up, and kisses me. It was full of happiness and passion, like I had given him the whole world, just as he had given me. 

Parting, he rushes, “Let me bring you to the perfect spot.” Neteyam called his ikran. He performs tsaheylu, setting me in front of him as he straddles his ikran.

From there, he takes off, launching us into the air. The night sky is a never-ending field for us to roam. The stars twinkle a perfect navigation system, guiding Neteyam to wherever he is bringing us for our mating. I look up at his face, the freckles forming their own constellation. Neteyam looks ecstatic. His beautiful face stretched into the biggest smile I have ever seen. 

The wind from the flight began to chill me to the bone, the sharp gusts hitting my face, so I shifted around, so I am now facing Neteyam. I huddle myself into him. Shielding my face from the cold. Leaning my head to rest on his navel, the fabric of his tweng against my cheek. I’ve always loved the feeling of na’vi woven cloth. I rub my face into his tweng. I can feel each strand of the smooth material against my skin. Neteyam rests his hand against my head, holding me close. I look up and smile at him, thankful he’s protecting me from the wind. I lean in and lay a kiss on his navel, right above the top of his tweng. His fingers tighten on my head, his thumb rubbing back and forth on the top of my scalp. It was then that I noticed this central strip, the one that hides his slit. The top of it was peeking out of his tweng, already open, and I finally realized what I had been doing, back in the lab, on the climb, and now here. I’ve been touching him, turning him on, and now Neteyam is so horny that his slit is open. I rub my hand from where the top of his slit down to where the bottom would be. I could feel the tip of his cock peeking through the fabric of his tweng, and I wanted more. I reach around Neteyam, grasping at the ties, wanting access to his dick. 

Neteyam grabs my hands in one of his and shouts to be heard over the wind, “Ma Yawne! Please do not kill us today!” His voice is shocked.

Determined to explore him more, I look Neteyam in the eye and lick the top of his slit, sucking on the spot I can reach. Neteyam’s eyes close, and his mouth opens in a moan. His ikran also dips in the air. Neteyam quickly rightens us, but I have learned my lesson for now. 

We soon landed at a clearing, but our journey wasn't over yet, “Come, Yawne. We are almost there.” Neteyam whispered in my ear as he helped me down.

We walked a short distance, and I soon recognized where we were. The small creek leads into a larger portion of open water. Surrounding the area was a banana fruit tree, the one where Neteyam and I met. Nostalgia and love flowed through me. The place we first met is now where we will mate. 

“This is perfect, my love.” I was choked up, my voice barely above a whisper. 

Neteyam kneels before me, holding my face in his hands, “I only wish the best for you, Yawne, and now here I am asking to be that for you, to take care of you, as you take care of me, to hold me as I hold you. Yawne, I ask you here and now, will you become my Muntxate?” 

My hands reach for his face, cradling it as he cradles my own, “Yes, Neteyam. I wish for nothing more than to become your Muntxate and for you to be my Muntxatan.” 

Our mouths meet in a slow kiss, savoring each other presence, his plush lips dominating mine. Neteyam licks at my lips, and I eagerly accept him in. His tongue filled my mouth completely, not leaving an inch unexplored. I suck on his tongue, wanting more from him. A deep groan emits from him as one of his hands travels lower, wrapping around my waist pulling me closer to him. 

Neteyam pulls away, our saliva mingling between our parted lips, “Syulang, you’re being such a good girl for me. I love you so much.”

“Love you, Teyam,” I respond.

Neteyam’s hands grip the bottom of my shirt, pulling over my head, his hands now roaming my bare skin. His lips followed, laying small kisses wherever he decided. As his lips worked, he fumbled with the button of my jeans. His large hands struggle with the small button, and I hear his groan before I hear the rip. My jeans are in tatters as Neteyam rips them off me, leaving me in just my underwear.

“Why do tawtute wear so much clothing? It should not be so difficult to see my Muntxate.” Neteyam complains.

I chuckle at him as he sounds like a perturbed child, “Do you wish I were never to wear them?”

“Yes! Never again.” Neteyam agrees quickly.

“Then you will have to weave me something. Maybe a skirt? That way, you will have access to me at all times, never even having to take it off.” I explain, liking the idea of him using me at any moment.

Neteyam’s moan is loud, and his grip on my hips is near bruising, “Oh, Paskalin. I would love nothing more than that. I will weave you everything you wish. And giving me access to your pussy whenever I want, we will never be a part. I will have you fill, whether it be my tongue, fingers, or my dick. It will not be long until my seed takes.” His hips are rocking into my core. 

“Please, Teyam, please!” I grasp his braids as he rocks into my clit.

Neteyam quickly rids me of my undergarments, leaving me bare to him. I grasp at the straps to his tweng pulling, wanting it off now. 

“Mawey Yawntutsyìp, Mawey.” He mutters, as if he hasn’t already destroyed my jeans.

“Hurry, Neteyam.” I plead.

He removes his tweng, showing his open slit, the tip of his cock peeking, ready to come out. 

“I can not hurry, Yawne. You are so small; it will take time for you to be prepared.” Neteyam responds calmly. 

He lays me on the ground. The plush moss against my back is a comforting feeling, the coolness a stark contrast to my heated body. His hands slowly caress my legs, leading up to my core. Neteyam’s thumbs eased close to my core, not quite touching the folds of my pussy, and spread them, showing him my twitching hole. Slowly, he eases a thumb closer to my center, rubbing the outside without penetrating. 

“Neteyam, please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Of course, Yawne.” From there, he inserts his thumb in deep. My cunt gladly accepted the intrusion. 

“Oh Teyam, feels good,” I tell him.

He leans down, caging me in his arms, and kisses my neck, thrusting his thumb into my cunt. The glide brings a slow build as his other fingers rub my clit.

“So pretty for me, Yawne, leaking so much on just my thumb. What will you do on my fingers? Let alone my dick?” Neteyam asks.

His fingers leave my pussy, and are quickly replaced with one of his long fingers. His tongue now on my breast. Teeth grazing my nipple as he nibbles, switching which breast he gives attention to. Wet noises come from my cunt as his finger picks up speed. One soon becomes two.

“Neteyam!” I moan, the burn adding to my pleasure. 

“Easy Yawne, it’s only two fingers. Your pussy is just so tight. Even a small finger is too much for you.” He mocks lovingly.

Neteyam’s fingers pick up as his mouth moves lower, kissing and biting my ribs, leaving marks on my stomach and hips when he finally reaches my cunt. His tongue lapped at my clit. The flat of his tongue licked a long swipe at the sensitive bundle before sucking it into his mouth. It was a distraction as his third finger joined the others. The thick digits bring me closer to my high as Neteyam suckles at my clit. 

“Teyam! Teyam! I’m gonna cum! Please, Teyam!” I beg, needing my release. 

Neteyam picks up the speed of his fingers, and the power of his sucks, and soon my vision is white, and my back is arched as I came. My limbs twitched as he let go of my cunt. I watch as he pulls his dick out the rest of the way. His thick long cock, covered in the spines all na’vi men have. Neteyam lines his cock up with my pussy, brushing my hole.

Neteyam’s face is now close to mine, “Are you ready, Yawne? From here, we are mated.”

“Yes, Neteyam, I am ready to spend the rest of our lives together.” I wrap my arms around his neck, wanting to be as close as possible. 

Neteyam reaches behind him, bringing his kuru, and hands it to me, “This is for you, for you to protect and cherish. I want you to care for it as we mate.” He admits.

I hold his kuru as the pink tendrils come out to play again. They wrap around my fingers again, and he pushes in. My cunt stretches wider than ever before, accommodating to his girth and the spines, as they each pop into my cunt, each spine trying to find its home.

“Oh, Yawne, you’re so tight! You fit my cock perfectly. I can feel my spines finding their spot. I’m gonna lock in your pussy, and I’m gonna fill you with my seed.” He grunts.

I squeal at his words, wanting to be filled with his cum. His spines locking at different points, refusing to leave the him they have found, tugging at each movement we make. Many of them have locked, grinding inside me as he finished trying to line up. His thumb quickly found my clit again, already oversensitized from cumming. I wrap my thighs around his narrow waist, humping at his thumb. 

“Baby, Teyam, I need to cum!” I scream, the pleasure overwhelming.

Neteyam’s breathless as he grinds his cock into me, the locked spines dragging and pulling, bringing both of us closer to our highs, “Ma Yawne. Oh Fuck. You just came for me. Shit, and you’re gonna come again? Damit, fuck, such a good pussy. My fucking good girl, my slutty Yawntutsyìp needing my cock.” His voice was little more than a growl.

Then he locks, the tendrils at the tip of his cock, slide through my cervix, opening it wide, “Cumming! Cumming Paskalin!” his cum floods my womb, nothing stopping his cum from its path. The grith of his cock keeps everything trapped inside.

Neteyam’s thumb picks up speed, bringing me to my second high while trapped on his dick. 

“I love you, ma muntxate, thank you, I will make sure you never regret this.” He kisses my lips sweetly. 

I smile at his words, “Love you, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan. I will never regret mating you. This is the happiest day of my life.” 

Neteyam rolls us over, so I lay on top of him, “Maybe one day you can create a way so my seed may take, and you can carry our child.” He muses, playing with my hair.

“Neteyam? Your father is an avatar. You have enough human DNA to get me pregnant.” 

Update: A visual of the genitalia here

#avatar #atwow #avatar way of water #kinktober #smut #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #atwow neteyam #lunaskinktober2023

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

I've been reading some of the Death Seeker Creator content, and was wondering what exactly was the appeal for them? Even if their sanity is fractured, the desire to live would be an instinctual drive for the Creator to avoid it. Then I realized: when a person is in a life or death situation, the body releases a shit-ton of chemicals into the nervous system due to the fight-or-flight response. Adrenaline, cortisol, all that junk is being flooded into the Creators system each time right before they die.

Could they have become addicted to the feeling? Is the Death Seeking Creator now the equivalent of an adrenaline junkie going to mad lengths to get their fix?

That essentially is the answer anon, relatively speaking. It's hard to fully explain it without getting into why I written this au and why (I assume) others enjoy it just as much.

The fact of the matter is, most aus I've seen, while beautifully written and amazing to read, don't really take their writing to a certain point. Like you said the will to live is instinctual, but that will can be broken. I wanted a creator that had that will broken, just at the point of no return in terms of their mental sanity.

While I know I've said there is potential healing from that state, I don't really like or want to focus on it. That part is more so for those who want a happy ending for this au.

But what I enjoy is the pure angst and horror the characters will go through, seeing the one thing they love the most and cherished to the point it was more of a cultish obsession than an actual religious faith wither into nothingness by their own hand. And my main reasons are because honestly, if I was in this sort of situation. I would be this creator. I wouldn't have that spiteful drive to live if every time I ran it only ended in another death.

Though in all likelihood, becoming a death seeking junkie would be spiteful in a way. The thought process would be "if I have to be the one who dies for the god's entertainment, I might as well make it more fun. More gruesome, more...entertaining."

I guess you could say this is just purely...whump? Is, is that the right term? I'm not familiar with it so idk please correct me. Either way this is just me wanting to take the cult side of the sagau to the next step where the characters actions have the worst case consequences. No world ending scenario, but they would prefer it to be that instead of seeing their beloved seek death before their eyes.

That's essentially my reasons, though for those reading please do not assume this means I'm mentally unwell. I am as sound as anyone else who enjoys these fics, I actively advise against getting deep into my au if you at all believe you're meant to die like this creator. You are not, your life is precious and should be taken care of with the utmost respect. Do not put those who love you into that same suffering the characters go through.

Honestly I don't even know if everything I written can fully explain the point of making and reading this au. I actually didn't expect it to pick up like it did, I was mainly dumping it for myself more than anything. I know not many like the more extreme cult aus, which is perfectly fine in all honesty. Even I want some more wholesome aus from time to time depending on my mood.

Sorry if this isn't exactly what you asked, I tend to not really focus on the logical side of things when it comes to fics and aus. I mainly just prefer to talk about ideas and potentially creative things then focus on the details such as the whys.

#idk if i should tag this #death seeking creator #i guess ill put that one at least #i feel like i typed too weirdly today #i was rewatching black butler #so i may have ended up in a more sophisticated thinking process #no matter

[fynnisshit]

Nina the killer: Rewrite

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Update 1/?

For my Nina rewrite, I just wanna put some things down for debate on if I should include this. A lot of what I'll be saying here are personal headcanons and such of the type because from the original story, there isn't too much to go off of. I am also going to be referencing Seireitonin's (on tiktok and tumblr) headcanons for Nina because I agree with some.

For starters, I am going to write Nina as a Blasian person (Dad was Black, Mother is Chinese). I think in a lot of ways it can add depth to her character, and it also makes sense in a lot of ways to me. In Seireitonin's post about why she thinks Nina is black she mentions how in a lot of cases black people often have absent fathers (That is not coming from me, that was said by Seireitonin who *is* a black person) and it lines up with how Nina's father was never once mentioned in her original story. In my rewrite, I want to write that her father actually dies from an illness like cancer. I think that it could be more sympathizable when it comes to her insanity that her father passes away when she is still growing rather than is absent since she was a baby. Also, in regards to her being part Asian, I think it could add to why she was bullied. I'm aware that many Asian people have and are often times made fun of and picked on for their ethnicity, and that also goes for African American peoples (in no way am I excusing this behavior). The bullying part of the story isn't only going to be motivated by her race, and I do not wish for it to be.

As I'm sure many people and myself headcanon her as a scenekid, I'd like to include that. I assume she is a scenekid and has just moved to a suburban area with her mother and brother. Many suburban parts of towns are generally middle-upper class, white, and typical "normal" people. I would assume that if a Blasian scene teenager moves into their part of town, it would probably give them some "bad" impressions.

For the setting of the rewrite, I'd like to make it known that Nina has just moved from California to a small town in Michigan. I think the generic trope of a girl from a small town moves to a big city is very fun, but I think it'd be super rad if the trope was reversed. In the rewrite, I want to include that one of the only reasons that Nina moves to a small town in Michigan is because of her mom having a job relocation. There's a city in Michigan called Freeland that is really close to a river, which I think later on it'd be handy for Nina herself when it comes to discarding the bodies she had killed. Also, Freeland is very close to a city called Midland, which is the headquarters of a big chemical plant/company called Dow (This is true, I actually researched for this, lol). Dow has a location in Hayward, California, which I think would be a good place for Nina to move from, assuming that her mom works at Dow.

I researched and found out that Midland is actually pretty expensive to live in, so I thought that the smaller and more affordable town nearby, Freeland, would work just fine.

In the rewrite, Nina and her little brother, Chris, would go to school at a Catholic or Christian, K-12, school. I don't think that Freeland actually has any religious schools, but I'm not going to be *that* accurate. At the school, I imagine that they would have a uniform and dress code that Nina tried her hardest to push the limits of with out breaking them to get away with being able to express herself in the way that she likes. That's where her canon outfit would come into play. The classic black skirt, purple hoodie, and red striped stockings are seemingly tame outfits. At school, I imagine the dress code is not too strict. Simply, a black or navy skirt, stockings, or tights with no more than two colors and a school polo. I'm sure they allow sweaters or jackets when coming and going from school, so thats why Nina would be able to wear her purple hoodie.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

fin

#creepypasta #slenderman #slenderverse #nina the killer #nina the killer rewrite #nina hopkins #creepypasta rewrite #rewrite #headcanon #canon #fanfic

[samuwhal]

We need to change how we talk about self-help techniques.

By self-help techniques, I’m talking about: grounding, mindfulness, meditation, breathing exercises, physical activity, and--the big one--yoga. I have struggled with my mental health since I was fifteen, and just now, I am realizing how much these things can actually help. I am almost twenty-six years old, and I will have been in therapy for ten years this fall. Let me tell you, I have spent so much of that time renouncing these tools. Recently, though I’ve realized that: holy shit, they can really work...but man they are offered to struggling people in the worst possible light.

TL;DR: Just because suggestions about ways to manage mental illness are framed as “you have to try it or you want to be sick” doesn’t mean that they can’t actually work or that you are invalidating yourself by trying or being helped by them. Featuring personal anecdotes and a boat metaphor.

I know I am not alone in that the idea of these techniques and exercises just made my skin crawl. They made me feel vulnerable in a way which really scared me, they felt impossible to initiate in the moments needed most, and--ultimately--they felt incredibly diminutive. Think about it: people getting sucked into rapids will drown cursing your name if all you do is insist they have to “ride the wave.” “Fuck you.”

When I began taking anti-depressants, it was not without a fight. I’m lucky; my parents were willing and able to put me in therapy as soon as I asked. But with medication, they were concerned it was a shortcut, that I would be on pills for the rest of my life, and that the chemicals would change me and do “the work” for me, as if this was an issue of character development and not brain malfunction. Why wouldn’t I just do something relaxing when I was upset? Why wasn’t I leaning more into my spirituality? Why wasn’t I letting anything else help me?

And that’s the problem! I tried to explain that I would be able to use those techniques easier if medication brought my overall symptoms down. You wouldn’t expect me to paddle upstream against a tsunami, but I could feasibly make progress against a strong current. Even at that point, if I go over rapids, I want a fucking life jacket, not somebody with their feet firmly planted on the riverbank shouting, “Try yoga!” Though I of course continued therapy in addition to medicine, I still resisted any advice having to do with self-help because of that sentiment.

To be clear, I’m still very pro-medication and for eliminating that stigma. Really, though, when somebody is having such debilitating symptoms--emotions--that they feel like they are getting pulled underwater and gasping for air, it’s not fair that the solution could be something as effortless as breathing in while counting until it’s better. That sounds like bullshit. Mental illness physically hurts, but to outsiders, it’s all in your head, and it would be fine if only you could step back and appreciate how good you have it. If “mindfulness” works, then maybe those people are right, and that can’t be true. It hurts too much to be true.

However, I want you to know that your struggles won’t be any less legitimate if something simple actually does end up helping. I have two stories here:

1. Last year, after wanting to start for ages, I finally began exercising: just going to the gym a couple of times a week. My goal was only to feel better in my body, not really to do anything for myself mentally. I even hired a personal trainer to write work-out routines for me to follow, both to hold myself accountable (I won’t skip if I’m paying someone) and just so I wouldn’t be totally lost the second I walked in. But I have felt so many unexpected mental benefits, as well:

Getting my heart rate and breathing elevated--and continuing to exert myself through it--has kept me steadier when anxiety starts to set in. I feel more confident knowing that I can lift heavy things, run distances, and because I did something productive. I’m not stress or bored-eating, not necessarily because I’m afraid I’ll “put the calories back,” but because I’m simply more regulated. I have been sleeping better since pushing my muscles has reduced my lower back pain. I don’t procrastinate showering if I’ve just gotten back from the gym. When I sit down to schoolwork, I focus easier if I had exercised. Something something endorphins. I know I’m starting to sound like a “bro,” but the point is that these are huge benefits to exercising that just don’t get mentioned by the people crudely suggesting that it will fix your depression.

2. A couple of months ago, I was having a bad night, and the “don’t believe any negative thoughts about yourself after 10 p.m.” rule had gone out the window. I did what many of us have taught ourselves to do and asked for a lifeline: I texted my girlfriend in the same room (because vocalizing it was too hard) asking if she would come over to sit with me. I didn’t even realize I was having an anxiety attack, but she did. At first, I felt too frozen and in-pain when she asked me to sit up from clutching the fetal position. Instrumentally, though, she said that she wanted to help, but I had to help myself, too. She was throwing me a ring, but I had to swim and meet her halfway. I sat up.

She held me and led me through a “find five things in the room” exercise, and fuck me: it helped. No, I wasn’t cured. I’m still not. But this broke my self-destructive loop, and I was able to go to sleep relaxed. This was an epiphany for me. I could have provided myself this tool, this comfort, the entire ten years I’ve been dealing with this shit! Instead, I’ve just been enduring it, hoping against everything pulling me down that--instead of drowning--I’ll eventually kick the riverbed where it’s shallow enough to stand.

When self-help techniques are offered to mentally ill people, they tend to be used as a “gotcha:” you could easily be better, if only you wanted to try. To be completely fair, this isn’t always the meaning. However, it only takes a couple of those microaggressions to ensure you shut down when your therapist or a concerned loved one asks if you've tried "grounding” before.

Please, take it from me: these tools aren’t just leaky arm floats that people who never even needed to learn how to swim offer just to feel better as they watch you struggle. They are a life jacket to keep you afloat when you tip, a wider paddle to outrun the rapids, a better rudder and tiller so you can actually steer, a bailing bucket for when things get dicey, or pontoons so you won’t tip so readily. Trying self-help techniques doesn’t disclaim what you’re going through, they just might make it more bearable.

And you’re worth that.

#okay to reblog #mental health #mental health tw #mental illness #therapy #anxiety #anxiety tw #depression #depression tw #grounding #mindfulness #medication #yoga #exercise #meditation #breathing exercises #honest advice #if this helps one person it's worth it #reflection #mental health stigma #end the stigma #you are loved #you are not alone #mild swearing #gym #anxiety attack #panic attack #panic attack tw #anxiety attack tw #about me

[nothought-headfull]

Where I personally stand on headcanons for COD men. Don’t argue, I won’t budge, make your own headcanons okay.

Price: Probably makes dad noises when he sits or stands just due to the amount of wear and tear the job has done to his body, even being in good physical conditions. Probably snaps crackles and pops too (same dude). But I don’t see him as an old old man. Don’t think his visions as shit as so play it off to be, if he has glasses it’s probably some mild script from squinting all the damn time plus like a mild astigmatism. Also I think he smells musky and burbony but in more in the context of cologne scent notes rather than literal bourbon. I don’t see him as the kind to drink on the job.

(And now for a break bcs I rambled :) )

Ghost: Autism coded (not literally diagnosed but very similar), yes that’s just to make me feel better for when I stare into the void like he did in the car with Ale and Rudy. Probably thinks two fish in a tank is peak comedy for a while. I can see him having scars on the body and face but I personally don’t think they’re quite as extensive. Will admit I haven’t read the comics (bcs I’ll cry probably), so that may not be canon complaint and I’m willing to admit that. I also feel like based on the way homeboy firmly grasps everything that recoil and vibration from weapons has a tendency to lock his hands up or make them stiff.

Gaz: man is gorgeous, clearly takes pride in his appearance and selfcare. Wouldn’t be surprised to find out man has like a 12 step routine or something. His hair is beautiful his stubble is beautiful. I will sing his praises until I die. I love a man that enjoys selfcare and does a great job while doing it god damn. But I also get some adhd vibes from him, the way he goes 0 to 100 in some missions and then goes back to acting appropriately. His focus is in multiple places at once and he probably has the most chaotic internal monologue second to Soap.

Soap: and on that topic we have our most feral demolitions specialist (I love him.) I feel like he cracks jokes to lighten the mood, and can’t handle when folks on the mission are business only (and in hindsight really appreciates two fish in a tank but felt bad he didn’t in the moment). Honestly I was surprised in game how many times Soap could manage to put metal in the microwave and laughed that he considered it an option to distract. It was great. I want my mind to operate on that sort of level of engineering and pure chaos. Also feel like he’s accidentally given himself chemical burns on at least two occasions or didn’t handle C4 correctly and started itching. If I remember correctly it’s sort of like touching fiberglass? I could be wrong on that.

Alex: Most beautiful facial hair in game (sorry Price). the mustache details are just beautiful. I feel like out of the field he’d be the guy to use beard wax and care products. Like he puts a lot of pride into that but not in the full hipster look way (no disrespect, just not the vibe I catch.) I personally hate the way facial hair feels but I know he takes damn good care of it and it’s gotta be soft. I will not back down on this one bite me.

Alejandro: This dude looks like he smells fucking phenomenal. His hairs prettier than mine for fucking real. Also I’m willing to bet like he smells like a combination of musk, cedar, and eucalyptus. But I’m willing to lean into it that he may have citrus of some sort or cinnamon in those cologne notes. I can’t decide which is better in this situation. Even breaking him out of prison he looks god damn fine and put together. He’s beautiful. I adore him

Rudy : seems like the kinda guy to always be out together, the hair has product in it for fucks sake. He’s perfect. Like every detail of him screams I love looking good and I love doing it and honestly he’s so right for that. Multi step hair are guy. What the hell is 3-in-1 product? He doesn’t know that.

#call of duty #john mactavish #john price #simon riley #ghost simon riley #kyle garrick #alejandro vargas #rudolfo parra #alex keller #shit posting is my reward for completing my assignments

[issacballsac]

"Dear Alice„

Parte 02

Jason Todd + Masc/Male Reader, Damien Al-Ghul Wayne + Twin Reader

Masc/Male Reader

First Person POV

Traditionally speaking, birthdays are joyous celebrations. So why was the one celebration I was granted so terrible?

The clanking of shoes easily alerted me. For such a ‘physically inferior’ person I had great awareness of my surroundings.

       "What a wonderful day, [ ]. Happy birthday my child!" This was insincere. I knew for a fact mother would never be so excited for a birthday. It was simply another day, the only difference is that I've aged another year.

       "Thank you mother. What brings you here so early, and where has Damien gone off to?"

       "Do not concern yourself with your brother, he is fine. More importantly, you! I have a surprise for your 14th birthday!"

When a person has experienced the things I have at such a young age not many things tend to scare you anymore, but, this terrified me. Perhaps she had finally given up on my training and would put me out of my misery and took Damien away to spare him the sight.

     "What's with that look? Come with me [ ], it's time for your surprise and I do hope you enjoy it."

Presented to me was a massive Lazarus' Pit. The emerald glisten outlined the many figures present. What a fantastic party location.

      "Mother, why am I here?" I questioned, already having a general reasoning as for why.

      "Do you remember the day you turned 13? I certainly do. You told me that you wished you could finally be useful to me." She wore a sickening grin. "Here is your chance my child." The fake sweetness in her voice made my skin crawl.

      "You're scaring me mother."

      "Good. Sometimes fear is our biggest asset."

I was dragged to the mouth of the pit. I wish Damien was here, he would know what to do, but, he wasn't here and I was alone.

My life seemed to flash before my eyes. I wasn't the best swimmer and the pit was not as shallow as it seemed. I was prohibited from returning to the surface being restrained to a conveyor of sorts. The vile green waters took residency in my lungs. With the little room for movement I was given I thrashed in agonizing pain for what felt like years. Seeing as it has only been used on decently developed humans it took quite a toll on my body and mental state. Eventually as any, I stopped thrashing and the movement came to a gradual halt.

        "What a strong boy you are [ ]. Thirty whole minutes, impressive." Tahlia, the woman I once considered my mother cooed as the servants began working to remove my body from the water. A silent breeze coursed through the area. Strange considering the area was secluded. No breezes would be able to enter. Just then the waters begins spiraling as if it was draining. But to where? To me. The cruel chemical mystery found resolve within my body and within a minute all that was the pit had been gone. With only me remaining still unconscious.

"[ ]!" The woman responsible shouted out to me with an emotion I've never seen of hers. Was this genuine concern?

"My son...you have granted your own wish."

For as long as I could remember I've always wanted to be like Damien. We were twins after all. Yet now, there was one thing to tell us apart. The newfound white streak of hair I've acquired. Albeit unwillingly I still have it. I could always dye my hair but honestly I've grown found of it.

I was told two days after the incident that Damien was actually sent to live with our father. With that knowledge I've sort of come to the conclusion that she's only using me as a weapon against him. In all honesty I didn't care at the moment. Whatever she needed me for I would do as sad and pathetic as it may seem.

"How are you my son?" She certainly had been acknowledging me as her son more and more. Maybe I should absorb pits more often. Back then, my whole world revolves around my mother and that's all I cared about. Even still, I had noticed the manipulation.

        "Mother, I want to be with my brother, Damien." Her expression, a scowl.

        "Don't say such things. You will help me in a way your brother never could."

        "I want to leave, mother." With a more stern voice I rose from the bed I had been resting in. The servants gathering around seemingly violent.

        "Ease. He simply wishes for fresh air. Go take a stroll and when your mind is clear I will be waiting, my son."

Unfortunately for her my mind never cleared and I never returned. The horrific images that flashed in my mind from the exposure to the Lazarus Pit never stopped.

I had strayed too far from the league anyway. If they were watching me they would have stopped me by now.

To this day I am unsure what force possessed me to do such a thing but I'll always be grateful. Under the protection of the glistening night sky I took off to never return.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x male reader #platonic #x reader platonic #x masc reader #jason todd + reader #jason todd #red hood + reader #red hood #Jason Todd x male reader platonic #damien wayne + reader #damien wayne

[balkanradfem]

So, I know this is a bad idea, but I had a dream. And in the dream, I was trying to go swim in the cold river. I remember just standing above the river, looking at it, thinking 'Why am I afraid? This river would never hurt me.' before giving up fear and diving right in.

And now it's daytime, and all I want is to go to the river and get inside. But, it's January. But it's not like, a super cold January, the forecast says it's 5 celsius, feels like 10 to me. It's warm. And I've been in rivers as early as March, why not now? It's not like I can walk. And I wanna see if it hurts my neck or not.

So I've been debating this in my head all morning, and now I've lost the battle. I'm going to the river. A friend already told me not to do it, so I'm going to not tell her about this. Also I'm pretty sure my mental health is in a bad spot, and swimming in cold water would fix that right up. So it's like, a win-win. I even took some elderberry syrup to make sure I don't get sick. I'm going. See you all later.

*later*

I’m sure you’re all wondering how that went, and let me tell you! I got up to the riverbank, and the water is huge, it’s been raining, the current is strong, the trees are half-underwater, the riverbank is steep and slippery. I’ve been to my garden first, and I noticed the top of the water in my bucket there, has frozen over, and hasn’t even melted yet, which had me wondering if this was, indeed, a good idea. But as soon as I saw the river, I was absorbed by unlimited lust to be submerged in it, and I knew I would not be able to go home before I do it, I could not resist.

I walked around the riverbank, looking for a safe place to access the water, and I found one relatively safe-ish spot, and tapped my way carefully down thru the mud. Then I saw a m*n on the other side of the river, staring at me. No thank you. I picked up my stuff and went to look for a decently secluded place, for heavens sake. I want to have a good time, not a self-conscious-I’m-being-stared-at time.

I found another spot that was, way less safe, and I’m standing there and thinking ‘This is actually so unsafe it’s ridiculous that I’m still doing it. I could slip and hurtle down this bank and fall into the water at any moment and it would not be surprising.’ So I wisely took off my jacket and left my phone in it, so it wouldn’t get ruined if I fell.

I didn’t fall. I put my hand in the water, and it felt amazing. My hand decided that it was the exact correct temperature and I loved it. I took my clothes and my shoes off, and stepped into the water, with my bare feet, in my swimming gear.

My feet didn’t like the temperature of the water so much! They were quickly going numb and pained. I started to get a little worried, because my instincts were now telling me ‘too cold, you’re gonna die’, but that didn’t make my desire any less! I stepped out and waited for my feet to get their stuff together, and then I stepped back in the water, and found there was a great spot where I could be submerged and holding on to a tree, so I don’t accidentally float away or lose my footing. And I went for it. It was just like it was in my dream, I was submerged up to my neck within a second, and it was amazing, and then the cold shock hit me so I grabbed the tree and got myself back out. At this point I was feeling incredible, my body was searing with heat and excitement, and I realized, oh, I need to go back in!

I went back into the water, but this time I stayed in, holding onto the tree, forcing my body to breathe slowly thru the cold shock, unlocking my limbs and making me feel at home in cold water. I was only in for a few seconds, then I pushed myself out again, feeling dizzy with satisfaction. I was inside of a river in January! I had never done that before.

The cold water released so many good chemicals in my brain, I ended up feeling excellent for the rest of the day. Even my chronic pain was all cancelled, and my mental health was temporarily fine. The only setback was, that after I got home, I found several nasty bloody scratches on my legs, and one of my fingers was bloody too; I didn’t remember getting those. It’s very likely I got them in the water, because I was too cold to notice that I’m catching onto thorns and branches in there. I’m not worried, if they refuse to heal quickly, I have my wound-healing herbs that can take care of that.

I can’t say I would exactly recommend this, because this is, in reality, a result of bad mental health, and I’ve been known to do these things before, and I never got sick, so I know my body is resilient to the cold shock. I will often walk barefoot in the snow just to get a bit of that cold shock to fix my mood. So while it does wonders for me, don’t do this in January, it’s probably bad. (I know because my friends yelled at me when I told them afterwards and told me I would get sick.)

#river adventures #cold shock #cold water as a pain relief #mental health temporary fix #I just wanna do it again #it makes everything better

[justimagineok]

2:30 series || there for you - pt 1

series masterlist

Summary: One too sure, the other not that much. One focused on the present, the other too stuck on the past and afraid of the future. Both of them in love with each other.

warnings: mentions of car accidents and injuries, angst

A/N: hello again! ;) as always: feedback is always appreciated! 🥰 feel free to reblog, comment or send me an ask at anytime 😊  take care!

The last thing Jungkook heard was the loud sounds of his own tires screeching and glass breaking. The noise was so loud that Jungkook reflexively wanted to cover his ears, but the airbag hit him so hard he couldn't. He felt like his chest was being crushed by the airbags and was helpless.

'That's it,' he thought, 'I'm going to die.'

The car overturned twice on the roadway, and the first time Jungkook fell unconscious. Fortunately, there was no other car on the road at the time. A Sunday afternoon in Seoul and an empty road wasn't an everyday situation, but on this day it was. Everything seemed to happen to the golden maknae as if in slow motion: the hum of ambulances in his ears, someone calling his name over and over again, telling him to stay calm... he tasted blood in his mouth and was pretty sure his mouth piercings were gone. He felt the awful smell of gasoline and the smell of burning metal. Firefighters cut open one of the doors to get to him and rushed to the hospital. Jungkook wanted to answer the man who kept asking him his name and telling him to stay awake, but he couldn't. He felt as if his body had been run over by a truck. The only part of his body Jungkook could move was his hands, and Jungkook kept moving his tattooed hands to show the paramedics, but they didn't notice.

'Did I hit someone? What's going on? Why is everything getting so dark?", Jungkook wanted to ask, but the impact of the airbags on his chest was so hard that he felt like he couldn't breathe, let alone speak. 'My legs hurt...', he tried to look at his legs, but his head didn't move.

"Isn't that the boy from that boy band? What's their name?", he heard one of the paramedics say from a distance, and he tried to nod, but he couldn't. "BTS?", Jungkook squeezed his hands tightly, moving them with force, trying to confirm until one of them saw. "Are you BTS?", Jungkook could only nod.

After passing out for what felt like the hundredth time, Jungkook woke up in the hospital where a team of doctors were waiting for him.

"Jungkook, can you hear me? Hey... Jungkook, can you hear my voice? ", the doctors called him many times, but Jungkook couldn't answer, he was in too much pain to speak, but he could scream, so he did that instead. Jungkook would be completely horrified by the screams if they weren't coming from himself. It was as if someone had repeatedly kicked his legs and trampled them a hundred times. Each wave of pain was stronger than the last, and for a brief moment Jungkook just wanted to die so he wouldn't have to feel so much pain anymore.

He felt his face burning as if it were on fire. Had he been burned? What was going on? He reached for his face, but he didn't feel any blood...

"It... it burns..." he whispered as the doctor put his hand on the side of his body again.

"You're going to be fine, Mr. Jeon. What you're feeling is the alkaline gasses and chemicals from the airbags that got on your face in the accident. We'll treat that, all right? Keep your eyes open. Focus on the sound of my voice."

Jungkook felt tears falling from his eyes and the injuries on his face burning even more. The doctor kept telling him soothing words, trying to keep him conscious, but he was in so much pain. "Help me," he begged before closing his eyes.

"Please, help me."

"No, no, no, no, no no.... this can't be happening...", you grabbed your keys, running out of Haru's place in full speed. The nurse refuse to tell you details about Jungkook, only assuring you he was alive and where the hospital was.

You arrived at the hospital way before the rest of the members, asking for Jungkook at the reception. The doctor arrived and was about to tell you about what happen when Bang PD arrived as well. He took the both of you to Jungkook, not letting any of you enter the room yet.

"The other doctors are doing other checkups right now. I need you to wait a little before you can come in."

You could see from the windows as the doctors trade the neddles on his vein, but Jungkook didnt move at all. He had a tube to help him breathe and monitors analisying every part of him.

"What they're doing to him?"

"We treated the urgent parts when he arrived, making sure hes breathing properly and that his vital signs are okay but he still gonna need a few procediments."

Bang PD nodded. "What are the picture so far?"

Back and spinal sprain, minor traumatic brain injury, rib fractures, some thermal burns on his body from the airbags and a broken leg.

You started to cry again as you heard the doctor explaned.

"How critical are his legs, doctor?", Bang PD asked.

"We already did the surgery to stabilize the bone fractures on his leg, since his leg broke in some parts and we also did a procedure on the surgery to repair torn muscles and  tendons around the broken bones. It can be many complications from a broken leg such as knee or ankle pain, delayed healing, because severe leg fracture may not heal quickly or completely. Jungkook also suffered a blood vessel damage on both legs, causing some circulation problems as well. But he has a healthy form and very strong bones so we believe he will recover almost complety."

"Almost?"

"Yes, we can't give you a 100% sure on anything until now, sir. Since Jungkook had a very hard concussion, we're just waiting for him to wake up so we can follow the next steps. There's also some emotional effects we should warn you about."

"How so?"

"After a crash, a victim may experience changes in their personality and behavior that don’t exactly fit into a neat category. They may be symptoms of different types of disorders. Many patients suffer delusions after a traumatic event. They  might believe something to be true even when presented with evidence to the contrary. Confusion, delirium, hallucinations and other types of disorganized speech and behavior are other types of changes that can occur."

Bang PD nodded as you absorved everything you just heard. "You said minor trumatic brain injury....", you start. "What do you mean by minor?"

"The patient may present attention or concetration problems, headaches, trouble thinking clearly, irritability, trouble falling asleep, speaking coherently, unsteadiness, lack of coordination and problems with vision or hearing."

You only nodded processing all that information. Jungkook had to wake up. He had to.

"We're very confident in Jungkook's recovery," his doctor assured you, noticing your state of desperation. "All these simptons I'm telling you about it's a warning that we as doctors have to give you, but he's a strong man. A fighter. We'll give our best so he can have a quick and successful recovery, okay?"

"When he's gonna wake up, doctor?", you asked.

"He's not in a coma. Right now, his body and brain are trying to give him the minimum he needs to get concious again. Can take a while. I've ' see patients wake up in hours, some, in days. But he's not in a coma. He's just recovering. It's a way of his body to protect him."

Namjoon put his hand on your shoulder and tried to get your attention. He called your name five times, but you were too distracted to notice him.

"YN, you can go home if you want, rest a little. We'll stay here and take care of everything while you go."

"I'm fine, Joon," you say in a tired voice, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"You keep yawning," he says with a worried expression.

"Everyone yawns. I don't want to leave him."

Namjoon nods, understanding you.

"Then you can sleep in our car. Then you'll have more strength when he wakes up, okay? "

"No need. I'm awake."

"You can barely keep your eyes open," Namjoon is more fierce this time. Jungkook would smack him if he didn't take care of you. "Lie down. I promise I'll wake you up if there's anything new, okay?" he insists, helping you get up and signing for you to go to the car.

The members arrived about 50 minutes after you and Bang PD. They were advised not to tell Jungkook's family about the accident, not even his parents, for fear that the news would be leaked to the press, so they said goodbye as quickly as possible and hurried through the hospital. Not even Haru knew you were there. You wanted to see Jungkook, wake him up and stay with him, but they wouldn't let you or any of them in. By the time Namjoon told you to sleep in his car, it was almost 3 in the morning. You were all waiting for an new response from Jungkook, but he was still unconcious. Hoseok was pacing back and forth and Taehyung was praying to heaven that his brother would be okay. Jimin held your hand, also closed his eyes and asked for divine intervention. Namjoon talked to the doctor and received the same answers that the doctor had given you and Bang PD. There was nothing you could do but wait and pray. Pray for him to wake up. Pray he'll be okay.

The driver of the members recognized you immediately when you went to the car. You explained to him that you just wanted to rest a little in the car, and he waved asking if there was anything else he could do to help, but you said no, just thanking him for his kindness.

You checked your phone to make sure it's ringing when Namjoon calls you, and close your eyes to think about the events of the last few hours. Jungkook inviting you to Junghyun's birthday, being with him at the party, seeing how much fun he was having with his family, and loving all the smile he gave you. The loving way the whole family treats him, the way they look up to him like a hero. The iron man of the family. Super Jungkook. You remember the shocked look he gave you when you confessed to him that you still wanted him just the same. That you still love him just the same. You should have kissed him right then and there. You shouldn't have wasted a minute without him.

Every day that you wake up to Jungkook sleeping peacefully beside you... every day was a blessing you received that you only now realize you should have been grateful for every day. Even the bad days, even the times when he was gone for days and weeks at a time, on tour, or days when he had to practice so much that he stayed at Hybe anyway. Even on those days, he was always there. Always there.

Why the hell did you run away so much? Why did you leave him alone so many times? All the times he asked you not to go. Because of your parents? Because you had a shitty past and so many emotional scars that it makes you shudder just thinking about it? You met a man, a good man, who constantly showed you how much he loved you and how much he cared for you, and yet you took it all for granted. Just looking at yourself. To your own pain.

But enough of that. No more running away. Right now, you just want Jungkook to wake up, to be okay. You'll do everything in your power to make sure he's okay. It doesn't matter if he realizes in the end that you don't deserve him, right now you're going to stay. For as long as it takes. For as long as he needs you. You only have one priority right now.

You hear 3 light knocks on the door that startle you a bit, so you stand up. It's Jimin.

He carefully opens the door and offers you his hand.

"He's awake."

Next>>

#bts fake texts #bts fic #bts fake chat #bts fake chats #bts scenarios #bts #2:30 #jungkook x yn #jk x you #jk x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jk x y/n #jungkook angst

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Funerals in Evelow

hi !! I have not done a world building wednesday segment in a long time ! but I am back, and I wanted to talk about how (most) funerals go about in Evelow, the primary setting of my story.

I'm going off of this prompt, and just answering the funeral and death related questions. Death is (unfortunately) not that big of a plot point in my story, but it does come up, especially at the beginning ('wait, there's a timeline to this nonsense ???')

How is a funeral held? funerals are held actually around a month after the death. However, if it was a terminally ill person or someone whose death was predicted to be coming, then it may be a lot sooner. This is because funerals are planned very slowly and time is taken to decide on tomb arrangements, location, scripts, etc.

(If you're wondering if the attendees are looking at a super decomposed body or if the embalming methods are hella advanced, um, both ? The decision to embalm does have to happen early on, but some people believe that the decomposition makes mourning more effective. Others want to look at their loved one as they remember them. Also, Evelow is the city that has advanced genetic therapy, so some cell manipulation is complimented with the chemicals to preserve the body longer. Freezing is also done, but don't forget to thaw them out in time ! sheesh.)

So after all the planning, people must register to attend or else they cannot enter. (If the dead person was apart of the planning before their death, then they can make their own invitation list.) This is because there are strict arrangements and many people have duties within the ceremony.

The funeral begins at the burial site. (Unless there were wishes to be buried in secret !! In that case, it can be anywhere. We'll talk more about burial sites in the next question) Everyone in attendance is expected to have a turn at saying something publicly to the dead person. You can technically opt out, but you'd have to be a sobbing mess in order to avoid the stigma that comes out of attending a wedding and not having anything to say about the dying person.

There is a scribe present who records everything. Everything written down will be put into a book(let; depends how much was said) and that book will be attached to the burial site. This is so anyone who visits in the future can read the book that talks about them. Evelow greatly values historical texts and recording everything, so remembering passed people in this manner is appropriate.

So yes, funeral ceremonies can last a very long time. This is why they take a long time to plan. If anticipated, intermissions can occur. There have been occurrences of them lasting days. Fatigue is expected. But many times, people want the funerals to last, so they'll accept the fatigue.

What happens to the body after someone has died? So yeah, bodies are buried ! Usually. Really depends on the person. Preferably in a casket because of the stigma Evelow has against the natural world. In fact, it's more labor-induced to bury them without a casket. To get approval on open burial (i.e. just burying them as is. no coffin or cardboard box or anything) the ground has to be tested for toxicity and purified. In general, the ground is fine.

If you have made recognized achievement within Evelow, then you can be nominated to be buried in the inland garden. The garden is what surrounds the temple and even has statues and other highly decorated tombs. The council has to approve this. And given that most of the figures here are either past councilmen, emperors, etc. It's kind of an unfair little secret club.

So where are people usually buried ? Usually at the home of a loved one or a place significant to them. So yea, there's just little books scattered across Evelow being like "hey this person was buried here, want to read what others said about them ?" (if it's a public place, it has to be approved, blah blah) If there's no designated location, there's a mass graveyard on one of the far reaches of Evelow. It's very large and there are lots of people buried there, but many people try to avoid this fate. There's another stigma behind being "buried in the graveyard."

I don't think they call it a graveyard, just the burial ground (that's 'the' not 'a'.) Though some people like to be metal and call it the "land of the mournless" which brings me to the next question

How do people mourn? There's A LOT of mourning involved in Evelonian deaths. No celebrations (unless you despised the person lol) not even to be happy that they lived a good life, etc. (Which is kind of why cloning is a thing in this city. It's very much not a common thing, but man, some people don't want to die, is there harm in preserving yourself in some manner ?) So yeah, it ties with the desire to record everything as mentioned above. There's a lot of value in preservation in Evelow, so to lose a person ??

Which is why it's considered very important to spill your heart out when it's your turn to speak at the ceremony. You have to say it all, so it'll be recorded and kept by the body forever ! So much so that loud crying is encouraged. (Which I'll give credit to Evelow for that, good for them. However, this also means that if you're not publicly mourning someone, people might take that as you not caring about them. Which is fine if you're not close to them, but you know. People have to be mindful of that.)

What is consider an appropriate amount of time for mourning? However much time you need ! There's no obligation to be like "okay this person died a year ago, time to move on" you can mourn as long as you like. Of course, this can be harmful when it comes to the mourning person's health, but people are welcome to continue mourning while going on their daily lives so that the mourn does not consume them.

What color is used for mourning and funerals? Okay, so as of now, many colors have the same symbolism in Evelow as they are how I'm familiar with ? I should change that (at least to a degree, since I am also an artist and I like to consider color theory) but I do want to keep black as the symbol for death and decay and mourning. And since death is feared in Evelow, then everyone wears black to a funeral.

People are supposed to wear their heaviest garb, wear custom made attire, and go all out for the ceremony. The more extravagant you are, the better (which means that I should redesign the camryns outfits as shown above, it was their mother that died ! We shouldn't able to see these guys under all the veils and cloaks !! Um. remind me to draw that sometime.)

"You mean people are supposed to wear layers of black drapery and attend a multi-hour-sometimes-days-long ceremony ??" Yes, it's supposed to be exhausting.

•

Okay so that's about the end of my ramble ! I should talk a little on how funerals and death is seen in other places like Recom and especially Dile. Dile was where Audrey grew up and when her parents died, she was kind of alone in her mourning. So when she goes to Evelow and sees people acting like it's the end of the world to see their loved ones die, Audrey's like "finally, someone who gets me."

also disclaimer I'm not implying that I think this is the right way to go ! this is just how Evelow does it. And not even everyone in Evelow. It's considered controversial to show any happiness behind a death, but some people are pushing back and insisting on celebration of life, and that death is such a regular part of the life cycle that it should be properly incorporated into people's lives, and not seen as this tragedy for all cases of it.

#world building #okay I'm gonna go ahead and post this now since it's past midnight and you guessed it. wednesday ! #I should make world building wednesday part two: color symbolism #but I can wait for the morning. (or next week)