#needle through a bug

[nationmckinleyscorset]

Who was gonna tell me repo has cut scenes/songs?!

https://youtu.be/gM4DnGcgGlo?si=4Q5gjxrSeAZR3ZfE

Just found this song as a double feature in the soundtrack with zydrate anatomy, had no idea it existed and I've been watching this movie for like 2 years!

https://youtu.be/UNLER6ld5rk?si=NjVUuN8nlbLo-AmA

Also this! They literally hung graverobber upside down and turned Shiloh into a budding zydrate addict then thought... Nah... Let's leave the plot open, it doesn't matter if she never got her "cure"

They can't even say these scenes would have affecting the age rating because it's already R/18

[lawofenvy]

Fanon Shilo Wallace: [Innocent smoll bab who would never do drugs]

Canon Shilo:: [needle through a bug] [keyboard warrior] [bug collection] [Did I mention Needle yet?]

[the-fibre-stuff]

Knitting class at the school was yesterday, not today.

But today was pizza day.

As I'm sorting the boxes of pizza by class (the pizza shop does most of the work, we just need to read the names and then check the totals against the sheets for each class), some of the students I've been working with came through.

Now, yesterday was the last knitting class. I'm coming back next week, but that's a "where do you go from here?" presentation, not knitting time. One of the kids had forgotten this, and had been planning on starting a bunny yesterday. (Thank you so much to whoever suggested that project, it's been a huge hit). So I drew out the instructions for him, and he slid his stitches onto a chopstick (I don't have enough needles to let the kids keep them, but yarn is a consumable so they can keep it if they want).

Today, when he sees me in the hall, he calls out to me that he's finished the bunny.

I told him to bring it next week so he can show it to me.

[ace-but-not-a-pilot]

AHHHHHHH

[why-my-duck-has-exploted]

Okay you know that little character charts with the stats of a pj. I want that l. I want some picture to tell me what's my intelligence. Am I strong or not really? What's my current concern

[veone]

Sid being squeamish around needles take 7 point off her cool girl rank. She would have more real piercing and tattoos if she could get over her needle fear.

[cheftsunoda]

secrets are no fun (unless shared with everyone)

part two

smau + real life

lewis hamilton x !sister reader

hamilton reader x max verstappen

ayana hamilton, the younger sister of seven-time world champion lewis hamilton, has seemingly achieved everything she could ever desire— a successful career as a music producer and artist, been all around the world, has a supportive family and a loving husband—however, that’s a secret that no one, not even her brother, knows about—her husband is also an f1 driver. lewis has always made it his mission to prevent ayana from dating a driver— but is it technically considered dating if they are married? ;)

part one here

fc : tyla

tag list : @klauslovemepls , @omgsuperstarg , @msliz @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 , @goldenstrawberryx , @hannahmotors10 , @alireads27 , @1800-love-me , @htpssgavi , @cmgmikealson , @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog , @glow-ish , @just-tingz-virgo , @majapapaya4 @lina505, @hc-dutch

—

ayanaaa

liked by sza, carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc & 7,594,375 others.

ayanaaa : countin my blessings twice as much

username : you and sza been in the stu recently?

ayanaaa : obvvv- we abt to deliver album of the year

liked by sza

sza : album of the century mamas

liked by author

kikagomes : ^^ can't even begin to explain how excited i am for this album

liked by author and sza

alexandrasaintmleux : ^^same

liked by author and sza

ayanaaa : i vote for wag listening party

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, kikagomes, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and lilyzneimer

charles_leclerc : what about me

lando : i have fomo

georgerussell63 : bless my ears please

scuderiaferrari : are we invited?

sza : girls onlyyyy sorry

liked by author, alexandrasaintmleux, kikagomes, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and lilyzneimer

lewishamilton : are big brothers allowed?

ayanaaa : possibly...and admin you are invited !!

scuderiaferrari : best day of my life

usermame2: sza and that damn bug mask

liked by author

ayanaaa : she won't take it off...she was just casually sitting in my apartment with it on and scared the living shit out of me

liked by sza

sza : im instilling survival skills in you

liked by author

username8: there is a man- this album will be V E R Y good

f1 : Paddock appearance soon??

liked by author

ayanaaa : sooner than you think ;)

ayanaaa : and merc admin wherever you are - you have a soft spot in my heart so you're invited too

liked by lewishamilton and mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1 : hold on im fangirling

—

This event was supposed to be chill.

That’s what I told myself as I checked my mic backstage, adjusting the sleeves of my oversize blazer. The event was part of a music and innovation summit — nothing too flashy. Just a casual Q&A with some of the industry’s top producers. I was there to talk about the future of sound design.

Then Max walked in.

My heart stopped like a needle scratching off a record. He looked unfairly good in that fitted black polo and jeans, hair still slightly messy like he’d just run a hand through it on the way over. He wasn’t even looking for me — he was talking to someone from TAG Heuer, who happened to sponsor this event and is a major sponsor for...Redbull.

I ducked behind a speaker, hissing into my mic pack like it was going to help. “Solana. Emergency.”

Solana, who was currently sipping a matcha backstage and doing her best “I’m not famous today” routine, poked her head out. “What’s the—oh. Ohhh.”

“Why is he here?” I whispered.

“I dunno, babe, maybe fate? Karma? F1’s brutal PR schedule?” she shrugged. “Also, why does he look like that? Like he just stepped off a runway-slash-motorcycle ad?”

“Sol!”

“Okay, okay.” She cleared her throat and straightened. “It’s fine. Just pretend you don’t know him. Like a normal ex—wait, no. Current. Very-secret-husband thing. Right. I got this.”

We both peeked around the corner just in time to see Max spot me.

And smirk.

The moderator opened the floor to audience questions.

And Max’s hand shot up.

My stomach dropped. Solana, seated next to him, physically grabbed his arm and pulled it down. “Nope. Nope,” she said under her breath, but the moderator had already called on him.

“Yes, you—front row in the black shirt.”

Max stood. “Hi. Max Verstappen. Big fan of your work,” he said, eyes locked on me.

I blinked. “Hi… Max.” My voice cracked like a teenager’s. “Thanks. Um. Likewise.”

“Just wondering,” he said, somehow managing to keep a straight face, “how you balance creative expression with, you know, maintaining… discretion in your personal life.”

I almost choked on my water.

Solana let out a sound that was either a laugh or a cough — no one knew, not even her.

I narrowed my eyes at Max and leaned into the mic. “Well, when you’re married to your work, discretion kind of comes with the job.”

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly biting back a grin. “Right. Of course.”

After the panel ended and the crowd dispersed, I slipped backstage, fully ready to tackle him. But he was already waiting.

“That was a great answer,” he said, stepping into my space with that low, smug confidence that made me weak and annoyed all at once. “Very subtle. Especially the whole ‘married to your work’ bit.”

“You are such a menace,” I whispered, poking him in the chest.

He caught my hand and kissed my knuckles, totally unbothered. “I missed you.”

Before I could reply, Solana stormed in, waving her phone. “Okay, fun update — Twitter thinks you two made eye contact for too long, and now there’s a whole thread analyzing your body language.”

Max looked pleased. “Was it a good thread?”

“No!” she groaned. “You two are a disaster.”

I sighed and leaned into Max’s shoulder, hiding my smile.

Maybe. But we were a disaster in love.

And somehow, against all odds, still undiscovered.

For now.

—

f1gossipgirls

28,367 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Ayana Hamilton was a special guest at a recent event for music innovation that was hosted by Tag Heuer, a sponsor of Redbull Racing. Max Verstappen was also present due to contract obligations and asked Ayana how she dealt with work life balance— the two shared quite a lot of eye contact and user f1girllyyy on twitter analyzed the two’s body language throughout the event! let us know what you think about these two!

—

username : oh i never ever thought of this couple but i ship it so hard

username2 : guys they don’t even follow each other on ig 😭

username4 : max even introduced himself like they had never met before

username8 : they’d be so damn cute together

username10 : I don’t see lewis ever letting this happen

usernameee : yall are reading wayyyy too deep into this — it was like a 20 second interaction

username1 : he was lowkey probably just teasing her bc she is Lewis’ sister

usernameeee : side note she is SNATCHED

—

alexandrasaintmleux posted to her story!

seen by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, ayanaaa & 256,368 others.

charles_leclerc : pls stop rubbing it in

alexandrasaintmleux: sorry mon amor😁

—

The loft smelled like vanilla candles, takeout sushi, and just a hint of fresh vinyl. Solana and I had spent all day setting up for this — pillows fluffed, drinks on ice, and the speakers queued up with our joint project: an album we’d spent the better part of six months pouring our hearts into.

Tonight wasn’t about promo. It was about celebration — girlhood, music, and champagne in real glasses. Our favorite kind of night.

Carmen was the first to arrive, hair effortlessly slicked back and hugging me like we were old friends — which we kind of were at this point. Lily showed up right behind her, carrying cupcakes. “I couldn’t show up empty-handed. You know my brand,” she joked.

Then came Alex and Kika, both looking straight off the cover of Vogue, laughing about something that had happened at a shoot the day before. Kika pulled me in for a tight hug. “So proud of you, babe. I’ve been counting down for this.”

Solana popped a bottle in the kitchen. “This isn’t just a listening party — it’s a vibe. A ritual. A girls’ night only.”

We all cheered and clinked glasses.

As the first track played — a sultry, layered intro with a slow-burn beat and the kind of harmonies only Solana and I could stack — the room went quiet in that sacred way music sometimes demands. Heads nodded, eyes closed, a few quiet “oh my Gods” murmured between verses.

“This is crazy,” Alex whispered, reaching for her phone like she needed to write the lyrics down immediately.

“I feel like I’m floating,” Lily said, curled up on the arm of the couch. “Like… this is what silk sounds like.”

“Y’all,” Carmen added, “track three made me want to text an ex and delete it in the same breath.”

We were halfway through track five when we heard the sound.

Keys. In the door.

Solana froze mid-sip. “Wait. Did you give anyone else the code?”

Before I could answer, the front door opened — and in walked Lewis.

Wearing sweats. Holding a Tupperware of something suspiciously healthy. Completely aware of the very curated girlhood bubble he’d just walked into.

Everyone turned.

He blinked. “Hello Ladies.”

A beat of silence.

Then Kika leaned over and whispered to Lily, “That’s your cue to hide the tequila.”

Solana narrowed her eyes. “Lewis. This is a girls-only space. Read the vibes.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I brought protein brownies?”

Another beat.

Then Carmen shrugged. “Okay, he can stay.”

I gave him the death glare I usually reserved for nosy journalists. “You’re so lucky these girls like you.”

Lewis flopped onto the floor with a grin and popped a brownie into his mouth. “What can I say? I bring the snacks.”

The next track rolled in — the one I was most nervous about. A little more vulnerable. A little more me. The one Max had quietly helped me produce in our home studio on a rainy Tuesday, layered with sounds he’d chosen just for me. The lyrics that he very clearly inspired. My heartbeat picked up as it played.

Lewis nodded slowly. “Yo… this one’s special.”

Solana caught my eye and smirked, clearly knowing who inspired it. I bit my lip to keep from smiling too much.

The girls, now sprawled across the floor with wine and throw blankets, were lost in it. And I realized something.

This was the kind of moment you didn’t plan for — the kind that just happened. Messy, loud, emotional. Full of secrets and sound.

Exactly like me.

Exactly like us.

—

The party had trickled into soft goodbyes and sleepy hugs. One by one, the girls had slipped out — Kika stealing another cupcake for the road, Carmen promising a playlist trade, and Solana leaving to go meet with someone she probably should not.

I was curled up on the couch, hoodie now half-zipped, when Lewis came back from the kitchen carrying two mugs of tea.

“I made that weird ginger-honey stuff you like,” he said, handing one to me.

“Look at you,” I teased, “embracing your inner wellness girl.”

He chuckled, settling into the other end of the couch, legs stretched out and socked feet poking near mine. For a moment, it was quiet — the kind of stillness that comes after something really good. Or something really real.

Then he said it.

“That track. The one after the interlude. The one with the synths layered under your vocals?”

I glanced at him over my mug, heart skipping. “Yeah?”

“Who’s it about?”

I blinked. “What?”

He gave me a look. Not pushy, but curious. Brother-level curious. Protective-level curious. “You wrote that about someone. I know that tone. It’s not just vibes and metaphors — that one’s personal.”

I laughed a little too quickly. “You think everything has a hidden meaning.”

“Because in your songs, it always does,” he said, leaning forward. “It’s not just the lyrics. It’s the way you sing them. Like… I dunno. Like your heart’s right there in the booth.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the mug.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he added, voice softer now. “I’m not trying to pry. Just… whoever he is, sounds like he means a lot to you.”

He doesn’t know.

He really doesn’t know.

But my throat is thick and there’s this stupid, overwhelming warmth in my chest, because it’s Lewis. My brother. And even without the full truth, he sees me. He always has.

“Yeah,” I say, keeping my eyes on the tea. “He does.”

Lewis nods slowly, a quiet little smile tugging at his mouth. “Well… he better treat you like gold. Or I’ll have to start asking questions.”

I raise an eyebrow, smirking now. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

We sit in silence a little longer. Outside, the city is humming. Inside, the track is still looping quietly in my head — the one Max helped me finish, without ever needing to sign his name to it.

I glance at Lewis again, this time grateful he hasn’t pieced the puzzle together. Not yet.

Some secrets deserve a little more time.

—

The apartment was still.

Late afternoon light poured through the tall windows, casting warm, honey-gold streaks across the hardwood floors. I was curled in the studio nook, legs crossed under me on the swivel chair, laptop open, final mix exported. I’d been sitting on this track for a while now — too long, maybe. Part fear, part nerves.

Max was in the kitchen, barefoot and shirtless, humming off-key as he made tea. I hadn’t told him I was going to play it.

I just… hit spacebar.

The song started.

That slow build. The synths we’d layered together. The crackle of vintage tape I’d added without telling him — the same sound from the first night we ever stayed in, rain falling outside, him humming under his breath while I tweaked knobs on my sampler.

He stilled.

Didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. Just listened.

And then my voice came in.

Soft. Honest. No layers this time. Just me.

I watched him slowly put the mug down on the counter.

His shoulders rose, then fell — like he was breathing through something he hadn’t expected to feel.

By the time the chorus hit — that surge of melody, that ache I hadn’t been able to explain when I first wrote it — he turned around.

His eyes were a little glassy.

“You finished it,” he said, voice low.

“Yeah.”

His eyes searched mine, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask what it meant — even though I knew he already knew.

“You used that sound from that night… the rain,” he added softly.

“I wanted it to sound like home,” I said.

He crossed the room in a few strides and stood in front of me, silent for a long second before reaching out — fingertips gentle under my chin, tilting my face up toward his.

“This is about us,” he whispered.

I nodded. “Every word.”

He kissed me like he didn’t know what else to do. Like music had said the part his voice couldn’t. Like he’d just fallen in love with me all over again, even though we were already too far in to fall any further.

When we pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine.

“Can I be cheesy for one second?”

I smiled. “Only if you’re really committed.”

“I never thought I’d be someone’s favorite song,” he said. “But you just made me one.”

—

p2 finished! let me know what you guys think and as always requests are open:)

[whumping-in-the-dark]

List of Ways to (FICTIONALLY) Torture Someone

I genuinely have no idea how to make a content warning for this- just don't do this stuff irl ig

Click here to look for part 2

Caning

Electrocution

Stress Positions

Sensory Deprivation

Degradation

Water boarding

Strangling

Choking

Flaying

Skinning

Nailing

Drugging

Sleep Deprivation

Nudity

Shaving away the hair off their head

Plain ol' beating/manhandling

Public humiliation

Keeping them in a cage

Keeping them in a small dark place

Cutting off a body part

Carving them out with a knife

Whipping

Breaking their bones

Burning them with cigarettes

Poking holes into them with needles

Burning them in general

Forcing them to drink alcohol

Burning off their soles and forcing them to walk

Starvation

Dehydration

Sensory Overstimulation

Forcing them to scream their throat raw

Gagging them

Muzzling them

Crushing them w/ a hammer/mallet

Killing off their loved ones in front of them

Torturing their loved ones in front of them

Burying them alive

Hypothermia

Hyperthermia

Forcing them to hurt a stranger

Forcing them to hurt their loved ones

Forcing them to stay completely silent

Chemical burns

Chinese water torture

Forcing them into dangerous addictions

Forcing them to quit said dangerous addictions with zero support

Overfeeding them

Only feeding them food they are allergic to

Forcing them to vomit

And then punishing them for it

Forcing them to hang from the ceiling by their wrists while

Forcing them to walk on and on on the treadmill (and if they slip, they fall into the-)

Meat grinder. Enough said.

Carve degrading names into their skin

Pierce their body without their consent

Tattoo their body without their consent

Force them to wear humiliating clothes

Dislocate their joints

Dowse them in hot water and force them into a cold environment

Forcing them to get/remain sick so that they can only rely on YOU

Sewing their mouth shut

Only feeding them through tubes

Sewing degrading words into their skin

Branding them with a sign of your ownership

Branding them with degrading words

Forcing them to wear a collar with bells

Forcing them to wear a shock collar

Crucification

Keelhauling

Drag them behind the fast moving transportation of your choice <3

Stabbing them

Vivisection

Cannibalism

Almooost drowning them

Poking holes into their eyeballs with a needle

Ripping out their eyeballs

Ripping out their teeth with a pair of pliers... one by one

Attaching a strong cord to their teeth and ripping them all off at once

Pouring melted glass down their throat

Replacing their organs

Removing their organs

Slowlyyy pulling their limbs apart

Putting heavy objects on them over time

Force feeding

Forcing them to betray a loved one

Denying them medicine

Rubbing salt/other irritant into their wounds

Pouring alcohol/other irritant over their wounds

Rubbing their skin off with sandpaper

Forcing them to clean themself up when they're sick/injured

Denying them medicine

Forcing them to earn their 'privileges'

Denailing (slowly peeling off their nails)

Apply leeches onto their body

Force them into a tub of disgusting bugs (bonus points if they're naked)

Paralyzing them

Trapping rats on top of them and then forcing the rats to escape through their body

Dehumanization

Forcing them to shoot someone, except the barrel turns out to be empty

Feel free to suggest additions! I will try to update it whenever I find/think up of something new

Tysm @electrons2006 and @lettherebepain and @aliencatwafers for your ideas :)

[vigilante-3073]

Would you agree to write being on House’s team, they’re in a relationship (not secretive but not public. Maybe Cuddy and Wilson know?) anyway, reader is sick on and off and house constantly bugs her and makes fun of her, telling her she’s weak or to go home before she infects everyone and after a few days of that reader snaps and yells at him that she’s not sick she’s pregnant. Maybe house replies “mine I hope” or something like that that makes reader even more pissed at him

Sorry for the long ramble

Petri Dish

Gregory House x Doctor Female Reader

Summary: Doctor Y/N L/N was a valued member of Doctor House's team. Only problem, she was constantly sick with an illness of her own.

TW: Illness/sickness, treatments, boss/employee relationship, inter-office relationships, age gap, rude comments, vomiting, mention of needles and sex.

Y/N and House had been seeing each other romantically for almost a year. They hadn't intended to keep it a secret, but Y/N struggled with the idea of people finding out and casting judgement. There was almost a thirteen year age difference between them and the obvious boss/employee relationship would only make things more complicated.

Cuddy and Wilson were aware, but the couple chose to keep things discreet when they were working.

Y/N was a Rheumatologist with a subspecialty in Infectious Disease, she dealt with autoimmune diseases and diseases of the joints, muscle, tendons, ligaments and skeleton. House considered her to be a valuable member of his team, but her immune system had never been very reliable.

Y/N was always sick.

She caught absolutely every illness in the book. Infections, colds, tonsillitis, flus, pneumonia, and bronchitis were only some of the illnesses that she dealt with.

It seemed like she recovered from one illness and rolled right into the next. House thought that Y/N was like the human equivalent of the clear gel in the bottom of a petri dish, growing every bacteria that touched her into a monstrous illness.

She tried her best to work through her sickness and most of the time she could, but every illness seemed to hit her harder than it hit others.

Y/N was self conscious of her susceptibility to illness, she felt like it made her job difficult and she hated letting House down.

House lived to tease her about it, but he never judged her for it. He knew that their hours often meant that his staff burned the candle at both ends.

House slowly began to cut back on Y/N's hours, allowing her to get home for at least three hours of sleep a night. He deemed it a matter of public safety, when she didn't sleep, she got sick. The team seemed to buy it, but he could tell that there was underlying suspicion.

House knew that their suspicions would continue unless he focused on the issue. His solution was to begin calling his sweet girlfriend 'petri dish.'

Y/N absolutely hated the nickname, but kept quiet because there was no way to tell him to stop without drawing attention to their relationship.

House made his way down the hallway, stepping into his conference room and shrugging off his jacket. Cameron, Foreman and Chase sat at the table as they looked through the patient files.

"Where's Y/N?" House asked.

"She's out sick," Foreman answered, eyes focused on the paperwork in front of him.

"How sick? Spilling her guts or coughing up a lung?" House asked.

"I didn't ask," Foreman stated.

House moved over to the desk, picking up the handset and dialing Y/N's number.

"House, don't call her. She's sick, leave it alone," Cameron said.

He held up a finger, waiting as the line rang before Y/N picked up the phone.

"Where are you?" House asked.

"At home... I'm sick," Y/N replied, her voice was hoarse and virtually nonexistent. He planned on going to check on her after work, but he needed to focus on his case.

"Fine. Rest up, petri dish. Don't need you infecting the community," House said, hanging up the phone.

"That was rude," Cameron said.

"No, what's rude is what we're about to do," House said, grabbing his coat and putting it back on.

...

Y/N was sitting on the couch in her pyjamas as she watched television. A small trash can full of used tissues was placed on the floor beside her, a half-empty tissue box and a bag of lozenges sat on the coffee table beside her.

Y/N looked over as someone knocked on the door, she stood up and tossed her blanket aside. She shuffled across the living room before unlocking the door and opening it.

"No... Why?" Y/N mumbled.

House, Cameron, Chase and Foreman were standing in the hallway outside her apartment. House passed his cane to Cameron, he placed one of his hands on the back of Y/N's neck while pressing his other palm to her forehead.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked, he pulled away.

"You have a fever," He said, hands cupping her jaw as he palpated her lymph nodes.

"And swollen lymph nodes," House added. He grabbed his cane from Cameron, stepping around Y/N and moving into her apartment.

Chase, Foreman and Cameron lingered awkwardly on her doorstep. Y/N sighed and stepped out of the way, allowing them to enter her apartment.

"Put the board over there," House said, gesturing with his cane.

Chase carried the white board into her apartment and set it up in front of her television. Chase tossed the marker to House before sitting down in the armchair. Foreman leaned on the wall, crossing his arms as he watched House write out the list of symptoms.

"I got you a tea... I'm really sorry that we're barging in on you like this," Cameron said.

"Oh, she's fine. Just a mean case of the sniffles," House said.

Cameron shot him a look, "She's sick," She stated. Cameron sat down beside Y/N, setting her purse on the ground by her feet.

"She's always sick," House replied.

Cameron opened her mouth to argue before Y/N cut her off, "Thanks, Cameron," Y/N said, taking the warm beverage from her friend. Y/N sat down on the couch, dragging her blanket across her lap as she took a sip of her drink.

"Tell me what I'm looking at," Y/N said.

They went through the differential with Y/N's contributions and settled on three possibilities. Y/N was exhausted by the end of it, leaning back against the couch as she struggled to stay awake.

"Take the car and go do your tests. I'll take a cab back," House said, tossing his keys to Foreman.

"You sure?" Foreman asked.

House shrugged, "Just don't sell it to one of your homies," He said.

Foreman shot him a look before tucking the keys into his pocket, "See you at work, Y/N," He said.

"See you then," Y/N nodded, Foreman made his way out into the hallway.

Chase folded up the board, carrying it out of the apartment with a polite nod to Y/N.

Cameron stood up, "Feel better," She said.

"Will do," Y/N replied.

The door closed as Cameron stepped out, leaving House and Y/N alone in her apartment. House reached out and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, checking her temperature again.

Y/N hummed, eyes drifting shut at the cool temperature of his skin. He stepped away from her wordlessly, moving down the hallway and into her bathroom.

House returned, gently nudging Y/N as he sat down beside her. She lifted her head, looking up to find him holding out a few pills and a glass of water.

"Tylenol for the fever. Drink all the water," He said.

Y/N took the pills from his hand, placing them in her mouth and swallowing them with a sip of water. She held the glass in her hands, thumbs brushing across the condensation on the cup.

"I don't like that nickname," She admitted.

"What? Petri dish? It's a cute little pet name," He said.

"I don't like it," Y/N said.

He nodded, "I'll stop using it," House said.

"Thank you," She replied, taking another sip of her water.

"I'll make you some lunch, then you can sleep, alright?" He questioned, Y/N nodded.

House made her some soup, getting her settled in her bed with another glass of water before he returned to the hospital. If the team had any questions about why he had stayed behind, they didn't ask.

...

Y/N read through the patient file, eyes flitting over the information as she thought of possible causes. House wrote the symptoms on the board before turning to the group of doctors gathered around the table.

The differential started and ideas were thrown around quickly, added to or eliminated before they formed a plan of action.

Y/N suddenly raised a hand to her mouth as bile rose up in her throat. She stood from her chair quickly, covering her mouth with her hand as she rushed across the room.

Y/N fell to her knees in front of the trash can, barely managing to pull her hair out of her face before she got sick.

"Guessing that we're not a fan of that idea," House said.

Cameron stood up, moving over to the sink quickly and filling up a glass of cold water. She grabbed a napkin from the dispenser before moving over to her friend.

"Here," Cameron said softly, passing her the cup as she stepped behind her and pulled her hair back. Cameron clipped her hair up in a simple twist, hand settling on her back.

"Are you okay? Is there anything else I can get you?" Cameron asked, Y/N shook her head.

"I'm fine," She muttered.

House turned to Foreman and Chase, "Secondary differential. Nausea, vomiting and increased irritability," House listed.

"Spending any amount of time with you," Cameron said, anger clearly evident in her tone.

"Ouch, any other ideas?" House asked.

"Pregnancy," Chase offered softly.

"It's mine, right?" House asked, Y/N shot him an enraged look.

"Wait, did you two sleep together?" Foreman questioned.

Y/N looked down with a huff, avoiding eye contact with her coworkers.

"My god, it's true, isn't it?" Chase asked.

"Seriously? He calls you 'petri dish'," Cameron said.

"It's a pet name," House replied with a shrug.

"A pet name that I hate," Y/N muttered, the nauseous feeling returning with full force. She set the glass down on the floor as she gagged, vomiting into the trash can again.

"Wait, are you actually pregnant?" Chase asked.

Y/N sniffled, wiping her mouth before picking up the glass again. She rinsed the acidic taste from her mouth, spitting a small amount of water into the trash can.

"I don't know," Y/N mumbled.

"Any other guesses?" House asked.

"The flu," Chase offered.

"We're not helping you with this. Take care of your girlfriend while we take care of the patient," Foreman said, standing from his chair and making his way out of the room.

"I can stay if you want me to," Cameron offered.

"I'll be okay," Y/N said.

Cameron stood up, walking out of the conference room with Chase following closely behind her.

House grabbed a chair from the table, setting it down in front of Y/N and sitting down. She shifted to sit with her back leaned against the desk, her legs stretched out across the floor in front of her.

Y/N sniffled again, wiping the tears from her cheeks before settling her hands in her lap, "I asked you not to tell them," Y/N stated.

"They were bound to find out eventually," House shrugged. He reached into his blazer, pulling out a pack of gum and offering a stick to her.

"Thanks," Y/N mumbled, unwrapping the stick. She put the gum into her mouth and began chewing it, "I can't believe you told my coworkers that we're sleeping together," Y/N muttered, tossing the gum wrapper into the trash can.

"Chase and Cameron are sleeping together. This is a safe space for inter-office boning," House said.

"They're sleeping together?" Y/N asked.

"Yeah, I caught them in the janitors closet last week. Thought I should stake my claim before Foreman got any funny ideas," House said.

"I seriously doubt that there are many men lining up to date me, especially with a nickname like 'petri dish'," Y/N smiled, crossing her ankles.

House watched her for a moment, "Do you think that you're pregnant?" House asked.

Y/N shrugged, "I don't know. Haven't really thought about it," She said.

House stood up, making his way out into the hallway. He stepped over to one of the med carts, unlocking it before pulling out a vial of anti-nausea medication, a syringe and a wipe.

He drew up the medication, switching out the needle before returning to the conference room. House sat down in the chair in front of her, setting the syringe on the edge of the desk.

"Give me your arm," He said, tearing open the wipe.

Y/N shrugged off her lab coat, lifting her sleeve and allowing him to clean her skin before injecting her with the medication.

She grimaced, "Sorry," He muttered, wiping the spot and discarding the needle.

"I'll drive you home," House offered, standing up and holding out his hand to her.

Y/N took his hand, standing up from the floor and brushing the dirt from her clothes. House took her coat off the hook, holding it up for her. Y/N slipped her arms into the sleeves, allowing him to lift it up onto her shoulders.

House put his own coat on before he walked her out to his car and drove her home, escorting her up to her apartment.

Y/N slipped into the bathroom for a shower while House watched a tv show in her bed. Y/N emerged from the bathroom, clothed in a pair of pyjamas with damp hair.

"House," She called softly, he looked over at her.

Y/N made her way over to the bed, sitting on the edge beside him as she held out the plastic stick. He looked down at it, sitting up when he realized that she was holding a positive pregnancy test.

"You said you hadn't thought about it," House said.

"I lied," Y/N said with a soft smile.

"At least I don't have to worry about you being contagious," House said, cupping her cheek and pressing his lips to her's.

[emacrow]

First, It was Barb was doing night checks on wayne manor cameras surveillance pt 2

Previous post pt 1

She was in a bit of awe when she saw the newest very rare exotic flower Alfred got bloom under the light of the full moon, revealing beautiful crystallized like petals blossom, only for her widening eyes to take noticed of a tiny little pixie like child to pop his little head out of the center of the flower.

His hair was unnatural white fluff like a dandelion in her opinion, eyes glowing an otherworldly green, freckles that sparkle like the stars themselves, ears a bit long and pointy, wearing a odd clothing with a needles strapped to his back, that she could barely catch in camera, the static buzzing sound from her cameras was making it a bit difficult to hear what sound the tiny little fairy boy made as he floated above zooming around the garden a bit like he was excited.

It made barb's inner child squeals, screaming, flipping her tiny princess table at the possibly of Nederland being possible.

Curious little bug, floating around like the fairies in Disney like except of the Glow pixie dust like she seen on the movies, he left a trail of blueish green light that faded away rather quickly with the way he was flying into the slightly opened kitchen's window...

Wait a goddamm minutes..

Barb immediately switch cameras to the kitchen, looking around, only to see it went through the hallway already, switching cameras again, checking the living room, the hallways, only to catch a glimpse of trail glow zooming around.

Crap crap. OK, no need to panic Barb. What do curious pixie like fairies out in the human world.. bring the season right?!, play with children like that Bell fairy did? Finds and take lost things and secretly repair lost things?..! Fairies are weak without pixie dust, they don't live long without it, each fairies has a different part of the seasons, and if you don't believe in them then they immediately die and that cause imbalance in the world without their influence unless you truly believe in fairies to bring back one fairy.(she went through a whole fairy obsession phase as a kid, she still mourns the lost of the create your fairy open world game)

The fairy must've Found a new type of pixie dust to fly without wings if she could recall that one sequel with the new pixie dusts colors thing..?

It was like a game of Where Waldo except where the little mythical fairy boy that couldn't possibly- no no barb don't think about the taboo words, if you think about it and this poor mythical being dies due to your words then the guilt will haunt you Forever.

3 hours in the catch the glimpse of the fairy boy, flying back at to his little flower holding a tiny cube of sugar, a shiny tiny object that she can't get a clear of, and a plump blueberry the size of his little head as he lands in the petals that were closing around him. Crystallized back close as if to guard this little fairy being with its own life.

Right when the full moon glimpse was gone out of the sight of the garden from the sky when the smog cloud from the city covering once more.. Barb is writing that down in her notes..

Part 3 link Here <-

[ozzgin]

Sorry to bug you.

I was just rereading about our Yandere Monster Husband and made me wonder (aside from if he and his family will have names):

Do we ever go on dates or have talks during dinner/through the garden? Do we bond in ways other than fucking?

Or is he always so busy that we rarely really get to see him so every chance we have to spend together is spent with him taking our ability to walk for the next few weeks cause we both pent up and our sweet hubby needs the reassurance that no ones taking us from him? (Seriously, when reading the part where we have to tell him to ease on the sex and he's scared we wanna break up with him, gets me every damn time cause I know that situation and know how horrible it feels. I always think in my head that I'd talk about my own experiences, that I can't believe someone would be scared to lose me, and try to reassure him that I ain't going anywhere.)

Sorry, this turned out way longer than I meant it too. I love your writing and always love seeing any updates to my favorite bunch of series.

You can just ignore this if you want, and I hope you have a good day/night/evening.

Oh no, your Monster!Husband loves spending time with you, regardless of what you're doing.

You will find that he's rather passionate about certain things. That's how you met him, after all: stumbled upon him as he was carefully inspecting his weaponry, away from everyone else. It goes without saying that he is more than willing to partake in your hobbies and interests, and he'd be overjoyed to teach you about his own.

In some cases, it leads to rather comical outcomes.

"You're surprisingly good at this," you remark, gazing at your beloved partner as he maneuvers the knitting needles.

"Indeed," he responds proudly, "it's the same wrist movement I use to slay my enemies."

If you show any curiosity towards his military background or hunting prowess, you'll discover he's terribly dorky about it.

"Wow, that's a big barrel," you suggest seductively, putting your hands around the weapon he just finished prepping.

His eyes immediately light up.

"They no longer make them like this. Here's an interesting fact: you can tell how old this is by the little markings to the side."

Your monstrous husband promptly places you on his lap, then continues an enthusiastic narration of technical features.

Were you hoping to get laid? Maybe. Then again, it's not a frequent occurrence to see him smiling like this; unless it comes to you, of course.

[Yandere!Monster Husband]

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

In Another Life

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Prompt - ‘In another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.’

Bucky Barnes was nothing if not a man who felt too much. He’d fight fiercely for those he loved, he’d make an idiot of himself to get the attention of the woman he loved. He let himself get knocked around if it meant he could catch a glimpse of her scowl that he’d always manage to turn into a smile.

“Seriously, Barnes?” You groan as you walk into the medical tent, seeing the familiar sight of James Barnes on one of your beds.

“It wasn’t my fault this time!” He lied, watching as you shook your head but there was a fondness to it.

Bucky could read you like his most favourite book at this point. You’d been appointed to 107th to join their medical team and it didn’t take long to capture the attention of the Sergeant. He had fallen for you in that first meeting, watching you boss around men twice the size of you, putting them into place without fear, putting him in his place when he tried to play off a pair of broken ribs as nothing.

Since then Bucky had done anything to be around you, he’d had his nose nearly broken, he’d fractured his wrist, he’d faked more stomach bugs than he could count. You didn’t buy any of them, you never did and yet you still let him take up one of the beds in the medical tent for hours on end. 

“We both know that’s bullshit.” You called him out and he didn’t even try and look guilty anymore, instead he shot you a bright grin and shrugged in a what can you do way causing you to roll your eyes though there was no heat in the gesture. “What is it this time?”

His smile widened impossibly as he lifted his shirt up, noticing the way your eyes took in the sight appreciatively before they widened at the cut across his torso, a blood soaked rag falling down as he lifted his shirt.

“You’re a real piece of work, Barnes, you know that?” You asked, starting to gather your supplies before sitting next to Bucky, the grin still firmly in place, slightly more smug now that he’d seen you take him in.

“Don’t deny it, doll, you love me patching me up.” Bucky said confidently, knowing that you could have demanded one of the other nurses deal with him if you really didn’t like him.

“There’s better ways to get my attention, no need to go get yourself all cut up on my behalf.” You told him, watching as his eyes widened slightly and a smirk pulled at his lips. “Ready?” 

“For you, doll, always.” He smirked and you groaned again causing him to laugh, though it was quickly silenced as you pushed the needle through his skin, slowly patching up the wound and letting Bucky fill the silence, fighting back a blush as he spoke.

“There’s my most favourite nurse!” Bucky called as he stumbled into the med tent, leaning heavily against another soldier, his skin pale and sweaty.

“What happened?” You ask straight away, gesturing for the soldier to put Bucky on the bed closest to you as you get to watch stripping the uniform of the man and frowning at the amount of blood pouring from two wounds on his stomach.

“He got shot, ma’am.” The soldier answered and your frown deepened, looking up at Bucky who’s eyes were half lidded but he was still grinning at you, apparently no injury was bad enough to wipe that damn grin off his face.

“‘M fine, Y/N.” He tried to assure you, seeing the frown between your eyebrows deepen and you could help but let out a soft huff of laughter, moving to get some needles, tweezers, gauze, pads and everything else you need.

“Told you there’s better ways to get my attention, didn’t mean go and get yourself shot, Buck.” You say softly, sitting next to him and cleaning the blood, checking him over and seeing both wounds were clean through, good no need to go digging for bullets.

“Shit, doll, you’re calling me by name. My dying?” He asked, slurring the words out and your heart ached at the slight tremor in his voice.

“Come on, it’s me we're talking about. You really think I'm about to let you die?” You ask him, forcing a smile onto your face and looking up at him assuringly before focusing on the worst of the two wounds.

“Better not let me die, Y/N/N, gotta take my girl out on a date.” He breathed out, looking at you so softly, groaning when you pressed down on his wound. “Fuck, doll.”

“Your girl, huh?” You shushed him softly, keeping him talking, needing him to stay alert for your own sanity more than anything.

You took a deep breath, knowing you needed to stay calm in order to make sure Bucky got through this, to make sure he didn’t lose any more blood than he had. You needed to push aside your feelings aside and focus on the patient.

Even if that patient was Bucky Barnes.

“Best girl around.” Bucky slurred out, a choked laugh escaping him and you let yourself smile. “Fixes me up all the damn time, even though she knows I’m an idiot.”

“You certainly are an idiot.” You agree easily, watching as he glares at you, a dazed smile still firmly in place. 

You had cleaned the wound well enough that the blood had stopped pouring from it and focused on patching it up, keeping Bucky talking the whole time, even as he winced and flinched, his eyes falling shut.

You were fine so long as he kept talking.

The second gunshot wound was much easier to patch up, you had it cleaned and packed quickly and once they were both dealt with you sat back heavily, looking at Bucky’s face, watching as he forced his eyes open and looked at you drained.

“All done, doll?” He asked, voice thick with tiredness and you smiled softly at him, eyes stinging slightly as you swallowed around the lump in your throat.

“All done, soldier. Get some rest.” You told him, your own voice thick with emotion and you stood up, needing a minute to yourself, eyes watering but a hand on your wrist stopped you from leaving.

“Stay, doll?” Bucky asked softly and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you turned around and sat back down, Bucky forcing his heavy eyes open and frowning at you. “M’alright.”

You nodded, you knew he was, you were the one to patch him up and yet you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath now that you were done. Bucky practically lived in the med tent, you were used to him being hurt, used to fixing up his many injuries. This one was different though, this one was serious.

You’d never really had Bucky in your med bay because he needed saving. There were so many factors that could have changed the outcome, if the gunshots had caught Bucky a bit to the right it could have caused damage you couldn’t have fixed, if it had taken them any longer to get Bucky to you he could have lost too much blood. It was the first time you’d had Bucky in serious danger.

It’s not like you were stupid, you knew who he was, what his job was but when it was just the two of you it was easy to forget there was a war going on outside, easy to forget that seriousness of his job. 

“You’re alright.” You breathed out, another few tears making their way down your cheek and Bucky reached down, threading his fingers with yours and bringing them up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes closed. “Sleep, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, following the command easily.

After that day you let yourself give into Bucky’s flirting, giving it back just as quickly as he gave it, realising it could all be snatched from you all too soon.

It was a few weeks later, you and Bucky had practically been inseparable. All his free time had been spent with you in the med bay and he savoured each moment he got with you, his little piece of heaven during the war.

You frowned as you walked towards the med bay, hearing one of the nurses raise her voice. It wasn’t entirely uncommon, most of the soldiers looked down at a woman doing a job, sometimes it was called for but when you stepped closer your eyes widened when you heard Bucky.

“Sergeant Barnes-” The nurse tried again but Bucky cut her off.

“No! I want Y/N.” Bucky demanded, like the med tent was the sort of place to be making demands. 

You rolled your eyes stepping into the tent, Bucky not noticing you but the nurse's face filled with relief as she saw you before glaring at Bucky.

“You know,” You say, causing Bucky’s head to snap over to you, your eyes immediately going to the trail of blood falling from his temple. “When your head’s bleeding, people usually aren’t picky about what nurse they have.”

“What can I say? I have my favourite nurse, no point ending up in this place if I don’t get to see my girl.” Bucky grinned at you and you rolled your eyes though there was a fondness you couldn’t deny and you nodded at the other nurse, taking over.

“What happened this time?” You asked, holding a damp rag against the wound.

“Cut my head jumping out of the way of a bullet.” Bucky told you and you sighed, pulling the rag away and seeing the blood had already begun to slow. “Hey, when are you finally gonna let me take you out?”

Bucky had been asking you out ever since he got shot and each time you never gave him a real answer because how could you? There was a war happening, even with his free time he couldn’t just leave to go on a date with you.

“Come find me when you’ve won the war.” You finally told him, watching a blinding grin spread across his face, eyes lighting up as he nodded.

“Doll, I’m gonna marry you once the war’s won.” He swore and the way he said it, you had no choice but to believe he would, you weren’t complaining, the rest of your life with Bucky Barnes seemed like a pretty good life.

“You promise?” You grin back at him, the man unable to help himself, pulling you closer to stand between his legs and closing the distance between you, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your face up to his, his gaze intense, before his lips claimed yours in a fierce, passionate kiss full of promise of a future. You couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden intensity, your hands clutching at his shirt. The world around you faded away as you both lost yourselves in each other, the kiss leaving you both breathless.

“I promise. I’m gonna marry you when this is all over.” He promised and rested his forehead against yours. “On my life, we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together.”

You hear the tent open and turn around from where you stood sorting through your supplies, rolling your eyes but not stopping the grin that spreads across your face.

“Here comes trouble.” You say to yourself, loud enough for Bucky to hear and he just grins back at you, sitting himself on the closest bed to you. “What is it this time then?”

“Oh nurse Y/N, you gotta help me.” Bucky groans, clutching his heart. “My heart is hurting so bad, think I’m having withdrawals from seeing my best girl, think you gotta cure for that?”

“You’re an idiot.” You laughed at him, swatting him with a rag before going back to organising your supplies, knowing the men were heading into another battle and you’d need everything ready for when they came back.

“Come on, doll.” He pouted dramatically over at you, jumping from the bed and turning you to face him. “A kiss for good luck?”

You rolled your eyes again, something you did a lot in the presence of James Barnes but couldn’t help but smile up at him. Bucky smiled down at you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek in his hand, delicately running his thumb across your cheek bone before he guided you up to him, meeting you halfway and then his lips found yours, gently at first. Slowly, he deepened the kiss, becoming more passionate as he pulled you impossibly closer, his other hand moving to the small of your back and you couldn’t help but melt into him, arms wrapping around his neck, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

“Come back to me, soldier.” You told him when the two of you finally pulled away, foreheads resting against each other.

“I got promises to keep, doll, course I’m coming back.” He said, watching as you blushed at the reminder of his promises.

Bucky stole another handful of kisses before one of the men came in, telling him he had to leave.

“See you soon, gorgeous.” He grinned, pressing one more breathtaking kiss to your lips before running out of the med tent and you sat on one of the beds, watching the spot where he had stood, smiling like a fool in love but you couldn’t deny that’s what you were.

Too much time passed, not enough information was given. You paced holes in the med tent floor, he should be back by now. Something was wrong, there were whispers but nobody would tell you anything, everything was on a need to know basis and it was driving you mad.

It had been well over a week since Bucky left and the ache in your chest grew as more and more days passed without a single word.

When the med bay tent opened your head shot round, there were dark circles under your eyes, your hair was a mess from the amount of times you’d ran your hands through it. You shook your head when you saw the commanding officer step into your tent.

“Don't.” You said firmly, eyes already filling with tears and the man frowned, a grim look on his face.

“Nurse Y/LN,” He started and you shook your head, “I regret to inform you that Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes is missing in action and after our best efforts to identify the location of him and the 107th, we believe he has died in the line of duty. I know this must be difficult news to hear, but please know that you have the full support of the military and all available resources to assist you during this difficult time." 

You felt your legs give out, hitting the floor and sobs wracked your body, the choking feeling you got seeing Bucky shot coming back in full force, head shaking as you pleaded with any god that would listen to bring him back.

The commanding officer left, leaving you a sobbing mess on the floor. 

“He promised.” You choked out to nobody. “He was meant to marry me.” 

You stayed there for a long while, crying for hours for the loss of what could have been. It would have been amazing, a lifetime with James Barnes and now, now you had to miss him for longer than you had known him.

Maybe in another life he came back to you, maybe in another life the war was won and he came back to you, swept you up in his arms and kept every promise he ever made. Maybe in another life, you had lazy mornings in bed, in another life you did the mundane stuff like taxes and laundry together.

Maybe in another life you had more time.

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[revelboo]

I would give my (and Tarantulas) firstborn for a continuation of the aphrodisiac / ovi fic

Congrats, you’re making me actually think about how this could work and I’m not sure how I feel about that 🤣 🔞 mass displaced mech 🌶️

Bound Scenario Pt 2

Tarantulas x Reader

• Venting raggedly as you tremble, he’s reluctant to pull out. Worked so hard for this, taking advantage of this quirk of his organic alt mode, his frames ability to create protoforms, though none of the previous batches of eggs were viable. Without a spark, they’re just wasted materials and a strain on him to produce, dormant. Leaning over you, your pupils are still dilated when he cups your cheek and you lean into the contact. Unsure if his theory is correct, that if he sparks you while you’re full of his eggs, the spark will split. Get pulled into the forming protoforms while you keep them safe, carry them.

• Feeling almost drunk on arousal, aching for more even as you squirm at the uncomfortably full sensation of whatever he put inside you, you groan when he pulls out. And you push up onto your elbow, shuddering when something small and round slips out of you. Is that an egg? Hearing Tarantulas snarl when you try to touch it, catching your wrist and bending over you. Using his mouth and glossa to deliberately press it back inside you. Visor brightening as he brings his extra limbs forward, seeing webbing in his claws as he passes it to his mouth, mandibles pulling it in and then his mouth is on you, his glossa stroking deep, feeling that pressure as you grab at his helm. And feeling a faint, shivery sensation before his head lifts.

• Still crouching between your spread thighs, his head tips when you try to ask a question, the words muffled by the gag and he reaches out to remove it with an extra limb. “What did you just do to me?” You ask and he winces, wondering what part you’ll be angriest about. Laying eggs inside you or the copulatory plug of his webbing meant to keep them where he put them until he removes it to carefully frag you later. Or that he didn’t ask first.

• “I gave you young,” he says and your eyes narrow. “Our young.” Realizing it was an egg and your weird, alien husband laid eggs inside you. Alarmed and hoping he’s not the sort of bug that lays eggs in drugged prey and lets their kids eat their way out. And he’s shifting his plating to expose his spark as he cages you and snares you before you can ask. It’s not the first time you’ve spark bonded him, swimming in the mad, chaos of his broken mind, overwhelming you. So much hate and resentment and longing that you feel like you might lose yourself if you’re tangled in him too long. The ache of wanting a family and having that taken from him just when he thought he had everything, his creation twisted into something unrecognizable. Betrayed and trapped, his slow descent into madness needling at you. And claiming you, having a second chance. Loving you with an all consuming fixation and intensity, needing to be loved, desperate for belonging. Broken and reaching for you, needing you to fix him even though you’re not sure you can. And there’s a question there, a coaxing as his madness sinks in icy shivers into you until you relent just to make it stop. Feel a pull, a loss that echoes through you and you’re reaching even as you lose whatever he just took, feeling it slip right through you.

• Shuddering as his spike releases and pressurizes at the feel of the new spark splintering, he reluctantly severs the connection, shifting his plating. Knowing he needs to explain as he leans over you to free your bound wrists and slides his arms under you. Or he can just avoid your anger and envenomate you again. It’s tempting, but he vents knowing he won’t. “Didn’t occur to you to ask first?” You demand and his mandibles flex. ‘It did, but forgiveness is easier than permission,’ he admits and you reach to grab one of his mandibles and yank making him hiss. “Are your kids going to hatch in me and eat me alive?” Staring in horror that you’d think that, he shakes his head. You’re his, fully bonded to him. “You’re lucky I love you or I’d smack the shit out of you.” You love him?

Previous

[mapis-putellas]

Flu shots

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2100

Warnings: needles

Summary: Alexia Putellas; two time Ballon D’Or winner and le reina of football was not scared of anything. Not the dark. Bugs. Clowns. Heights. Not even spiders. Or well, that’s what you thought. It was only when the barça squad have to get their flu shots do you realise there is something she’s scared of after all.

Notes: I might have to start writing every other day because this took like four hours bro.

[prompts]

Alexia Putellas; two time Ballon D'Or winner and le reina of football was not scared of anything. Not the dark. Bugs. Clowns. Heights. Not even spiders. Or well, that's what you thought considering she'd told you no different. It was only on a random Thursday during the month of October when the team were told they all had to get their flu shots the next day do you realise that maybe that wasn't the case after all.

Though her face remains as stoic as ever upon being told, you see the way her jaw tenses; the way her hands tighten around the edge of her seat. Your immediate response was to reach for her. To pull her into a hug or take her hand, but neither you or Alexia were fond of any sort of PDA outside your home so you were forced to simply watch her try and pretend nothing was wrong.

When you had gotten into the car, a part of you had admittedly wanted to question her. To ask if it was needles that she was afraid of or something else entirely. Not in a way that would make her uncomfortable, but to simply understand just what was going on through her head so you could do your best to reassure her.

You choose to remain silent however, because Alexia was notorious for denying any and all negative feelings she had and the last thing you wanted was for her to lie to you.

Instead, you simply reach over the console and take her hand in your own, feeling the way she squeezes tightly before settling on trailing the pad of her thumb over the back of your hand. The drive home was silent, and not much was spoken from beyond that point either. You did, however, make sure you were the big spoon that night, holding her as tightly as you could.

Alexia was definitely much stronger than you, but there was only a few inches between your heights allowing you to hold her throughout the entirety of the night without getting uncomfortable. Surprisingly, she was still in your arms when you wake up the next morning, although now she was facing you and curled up against your chest.

Her face was half buried against your chest, her leg thrown over your hip as her hands cling to the material of your shirt. Her breathing was soft, her quiet exhales seeping through the material of your shirt and hitting your bare skin. 

Waking up before her was not a common occurrence despite very much wanting it to be, so you make an effort to be as gentle as you can as you reach your free hand out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Alexia does no more than scrunch up her nose, and you can't help but quirk your lips up into a tender smile as you place a delicate kiss to her forehead.

This, unfortunately, does cause her to start waking up, and you wince a little in regret as you watch her eyes slowly flicker open. She lets out a quiet groan at the brightness of the room, tightening her arms around your waist and completely burying her face into your chest.

You feel the way her hands creep up the back of your shirt, resting against the bare skin at the small of your back for a small second before she dips her fingertips just beneath the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

An instinctive shiver flows through you at the action as you reach your own hand up to cup the back of her head. "Good morning, baby." You greet, determined to be extra gentle with her today.

At the sound of your voice, Alexia tilts her head back, heavy lids blinking tiredly as she puckers her lips. You kiss them gently. Not once, or twice, but three times before Alexia hums in content and nuzzles her face back into your chest. You tighten your grasp around her, grazing gentle circles across the length of her back as she dozes in and out of sleep.

Eventually, however, it soon becomes time to get up and face the day. Despite the fact you usually shower together to save both time and water, Alexia requests to shower by herself today which of course you encourage her to do without question.

Whilst it wasn't rare for Alexia to shower by herself, it wasn't exactly a common occurrence either. The shower was her thinking space. The place she could let her defences down without fearing anyone would see or judge. Allowing you in there with her was exposing in both senses of the word, because not only do you see her, but you also see her. She often reverts back into old habits when she’s stressed or anxious, and getting a flu shot when you’re terrified of needles would definitely make her feel both of those emotions.

To save time, you head through to the guest bathroom to have quick body shower, forgoing washing your hair until tonight when you and Alexia would inevitably shower together. When you make it back to your shared bedroom dressed a simple jeans and T-shirt, you see Alexia sat on the edge of your bed with her head in her hands. She too was dressed, clad in a pair of black shorts along with a grey zip up hoodie.

Immediately, you were concerned, feeling that familiar tug in your chest that always seems to appear whenever you see Alexia upset. You make your way over to her, gently nudging her elbows off of her knees before easing yourself onto her lap. She avoids eye contact by immediately hiding her face in your neck, her arms looping tightly around your waist as your own settle around her shoulders.

"I think I know why you're upset," you murmur after a few moments of silence, cupping the back of her head and grazing the pad of your thumb against her scalp. Alexia immediately goes ridged beneath you, but due to your position on top of her, she was forced to remain still and not bolt. "It's okay, ale. I promise. I'll be with you the entire time."

Alexia says nothing, and you highly suspect your words had gone through one ear and out the other.

"I'll hold you through it, if that would make you feel better?" You offer a few moments later.

Alexia peeks up at you, cheeks shiny with the residue of her tears. "Qué?"

You cup her face and gently wipe them away before pressing your lips against her forehead. "On my lap, like this. No one would ever know. It'll just be between us." You offer.

Alexia looks visibly embarrassed at even the suggestion of allowing someone she doesn't know to see her in such a vulnerable state, but at this point, you don't really see any other choice. If you left to her own devices, you were pretty sure she wouldn't even leave the house.

"Amor..." she trails off unsurely, and you're quick to try and sooth her by gently resting your forehead against her own. Your hands rise to once again cup her cheeks, delicately trailing your thumbs over the warm skin.

"I know," you murmur in understanding. "It's just a suggestion, ale. I promise you the nurse is not going to care. They're there to do a job, not to ask questions." 

Alexia sniffles as another tear streams down her cheek, "I just wish...no estaba tan asustada." She whispers, and you're immediately forced to swallow the tightness in your own throat as you cup the back of her head and coax her back to your chest.

"I know, baby. I know. But it's okay to be scared. Even of something that feels as silly as this. You know I won't ever judge you. Neither will anyone else."

Deep down, Alexia knows you're right, but she just can't fathom the thought of a needle being in the same room as her let alone one being injected into her body. She finds herself shuddering at thought, skin rising with goosebumps that were thankfully hidden beneath the material of her hoodie.

"I know it doesn't seem like it now, but I promise you'll be okay my love. I've got you."

"Always?"

Always."

*

"Baby, you're gonna wear a hole in the floor." You warn lightly as you watch Alexia pace back and forth, your elbows on your knees and your chin resting in the palm of your hand.

You'd been at the doctors office for not even ten minutes, seated in a private room for which you were thankful. Despite encouraging her to sit multiple times, Alexia had done everything but. In fact, you were pretty sure she was becoming dangerously close to running.

To prevent her from doing so, on her next lap of the room, you reach out and grasp a handful of her shirt before tugging backwards onto your lap. She yelps in surprise as she lands, your arms looping tightly around her waist and holding her back flush to your front. Her feet hang a few inches from the floor, and you allow her to gently kick the heels of her feet against your shins to get all that anxious energy out.

"Relax, darling. Let's take some breaths, yeah?" You murmur into her ear.

Alexia clutches the hands on her stomach as she complies, taking a big breath in through her mouth and exhaling out of her nose.

"Again." You encourage, and Alexia complies, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

"Once more," she does, her head coming to rest against your shoulder. You press your lips against her cheek as you tighten your grasp around her. "Good girl. Now relax, okay? I've got you." You whisper, and Alexia takes one last deep breath before she stills in your arms.

Well, that was until the door opens. At the sound of it, Alexia immediately tries darting out of your arms. Due to your tight grip, she was not successful and the panicked whimper that escapes her lips does not go amiss.

"Hey, hey, ale, it's okay." you attempt to sooth as the nurse greets the both of you, pushing a metal trolley that held two flu shots. You wince at the sight, but Alexia only becomes more panicked.

"No, no por favor. No quiero." Her voice cracks, hands desperately prying at your own still clasped against her stomach.

"I know, I know. It's okay." Thankful over the fact you'd gotten her to take her hoodie off whilst you were in the car, you make eye contact with the nurse before silently gesturing to one of Alexia's arms. You receive a subtle nod in response, allowing you to bring your attention back to your upset girlfriend.

As her desperation grows, you're forced to pin her arms to her chest before wrapping your own around them. She wasn’t fighting you much now, but she was clearly still very upset.

"Alexia? Alexia, hey, look at me. Look at me." You bounce her on your lap slightly to get her attention, the blonde letting out a soft sob as she throws her head back against your shoulder.

"There we go, good girl. Take a deep breath for me, my love. As deep as you can."

Alexia shakes her head, eyes stubbornly screwed shut.

"Deep breaths, baby," you kiss her wet cheek. "Remember? I've got you. I've got you." You nod to give the nurse the go ahead, her gloved hand reaching over to clean the area on Alexia's arm with an alcohol wipe.

Alexia violently startles, but before she could yank herself away, the nurse squeezes her arm and quickly  gives her the shot. It happens in less than two seconds, not giving Alexia chance to work herself up further.

"All done, baby. It's over." You release her arms, shifting her on your lap slightly so she was sat sideways before pulling her into a tight hug. She lets out a deep, body shuddering sigh of relief as she hooks her arms around your shoulders and burrows her face into your neck, the tears of relief now falling down her face hitting your skin.

The feeling of the cold wipe against your bicep suddenly reminds you that you're here for a shot too, and you make an effort of relaxing your arm slightly so it wouldn't be as painful.

"I'm so proud of you." You whisper into her ear, and Alexia presses a gentle kiss to your neck in response.

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics @liloandstitchstan

[viperify]

Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ᴍᴜɢɢʟᴇ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

We will meet again. | pt 2

Short summary: Ever since you had met Tom, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was mysterious and intriguing in the best possible way – if only he hadn’t disappeared out of nowhere at the Christmas market. It’s two weeks later now and you intend to spend Christmas Eve by yourself. Or will you?

Warnings: 18+ only! stalker!Tom, dub con, rough sex, extreme choking, impact play, degradation, biting, bondage, slight blasphemy ig, unprotected p in v, no aftercare

A/N: All I want for Christmas is… uhhh…

wordcount: 2,9k

part one | part three

Nobody messes with Tom Riddle’s head.

Especially not a muggle girl.

He let his guard down that day, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. You intrigued him in the worst possible way– an odd feeling he wasn’t used to blooming in his chest. One that only got stronger every time he had looked into your beautiful eyes, one that he couldn’t seem to let go, one that distracted him any time he wanted to simply read a book or study.

It has been driving him close to insanity.

Two weeks have passed since your encounter at the Christmas market and he had since found out where you lived, when you arrived home after work and, most importantly, he had a well worked out plan where he would teach you a little lesson.

Christmas Eve.

Fourteen days ago you met Tom, and he has never left your mind since. He has even followed you in some of your dreams. The necklace – you don’t wear it. Too much of a reminder of how he just left you behind, essentially having your friends think you’ve gone crazy as you rambled on about this tall, handsome stranger who you swore was just sitting there next to you on the bench. Without paying it any further attention, you have put the jewellery away, somewhere where you were sure you wouldn’t have to encounter it again for the next few months.

You live in your own apartment, within a small living room currently decorated with a middle-sized Christmas tree. The smell of pine needles and gingerbread hangs thick in the air, altogether creating a pleasant holiday feeling which perfectly fits to your tradition of watching a seasonal movie on Christmas Eve.

The season of love and peace doesn’t feel much like it when you have to decorate and organize everything yourself. The past few days have been nothing but tiring, which is why during the movie your eyelids flutter close every few minutes and you have to fight sleep with all your strength. Your exhaustion finally gets the better of you and you decide to head to bed, slipping into your fluffy bunny slippers and turning off the TV. After, you make your way to your bedroom, only the flashing Christmas decorations you had put up leading your way, casting a faint light on the otherwise empty hallway.

You touch the cold metal of the door handle and push down, entering your bedroom. Instead of darkness the dim light of your motion-sensing lamp greets you. It has been bugging often lately, just like the camera surveilling the front door entrance. Not even technicians you had hired could fix the issue – strange, you thought, especially as you have never had problems before. It’s probably due to the chilly weather they told you.

As you take a breath, a strange, yet familiar scent hits your senses. It reminds you of that day at the Christmas market. As you try to figure out where it was from exactly, Tom crosses your mind. It was his perfume, unmistakably, one that was so unique it was easily recognizable. Then, on the other hand, how could-

“You left your front door unlocked.”

A familiar voice, which you instantly make out to be Tom’s, snaps you out of your thoughts. You shriek, turning to face the figure behind you. You weren’t mistaken.

Your blood is rushing through your ears as he’s just standing there, arms behind his back, staring at you. Even in this faint lighting you could swear his eyes have gotten darker than last time you saw him.

“What the-? How did you get in here?” You breathe heavily, furrowing your eyebrows at the sight of how calmly, eerily so, he was standing in the corner of your bedroom.

His lips twitch slightly, almost like he was about to reply, but instead he takes a measured step towards you. “Why aren’t you wearing my present?” he asks, voice low and controlled as his gaze sinks to the exposed skin of your cleavage, scanning it for the silver necklace he had left you in your handbag.

A scoff escapes your lips, and you shake your head. “Now tell me one good reason why I should. We have barely talked. You left without saying anything. I never asked you to come back either, especially not by breaking into my house.”

It wasn’t exactly true – of course you have been thinking about him. About how he caught your attention so easily in the first place, how different he was to other men. You even have dreamed of him. Yet, you weren’t a person to just simply forgive and forget.

“Leave, just like you did two weeks ago. You have no business being in here anyway.”

Tom’s expression doesn’t change as he stands still for another moment. Though, he then quickly advances toward you and before you can react properly, he grabs your arm and pushes you back against the cold wall of your bedroom, pinning you in place with his body.

“I am not going to leave any time soon.” He snarls as his hand wraps around your throat, just enough to feel your pulse under his touch. You have been messing with my head. And you know what happens to people that mess with my head?”

“Bad things. Horrible, in fact.”

You avoid his piercing gaze best as you can. “Well,” you huff, “that is not my fucking-“

Smack.

You hiss, head whacking to the side as his palm strikes your cheek forcefully, the burning sting radiating through your body. And damn – it shouldn’t make you feel the way it does.

“I am going to scream.” You croak best as you can, though you aren’t quite sure if you could under his firm grip.

“For help?“ he taunts, his lips curling up in a smug grin, “I would like to see you try.”

“I know what you have been dreaming of the past two weeks. Exactly this, isn’t it? My hand wrapped around your pretty throat, fucking you senseless. You can’t hide from me.”

“I have no clue what you-“

You hiss as a sharp pain in your head cuts off your lie, and the world around you shifts into something oddly familiar, a scenery you recognize from one of your dreams you had two nights ago.

It was you and him after your encounter at the Christmas market, but instead of disappearing, he had come home with you.

Not only that, though.

“God Tom, please!” You whine, lifting your hips from the mattress to meet his harsh thrusts, desperately chasing your high as he hits all the right spots that have your vision blur.

He looks so perfectly messy like this – sweat glistening on his skin, his beautiful brunette curls sticking to his forehead as he looks down at you with hazy, lust-filled eyes. The most raw and gorgeous groans come from his slightly parted lips, and you swear that sight alone would push you over the edge soon enough.

“Tell me what you need, and I will give it to you.”  Tom encourages, sucking marks into the tender skin of your neck.

“Need you to choke me. Please.” You manage, and his hand tightly wraps around your throat in an instant, as though he was waiting for those exact words to spill over your lips.

“Anything for you.”

And just like that, the scenery shifts again. You whimper as the stinging pain in your head disappears, and you are met with the brunette staring right at you with a cruel smirk, his face inching closer to yours until he is merely a breath away.

“It would be oh so cruel of me to deny you-“ Tom rasps, his voice laced with sarcasm as his hand finds its way under your skirt, “what you have been craving for so badly, don’t you think?”

A nod. A nod is all you can manage in return. You don’t even have time to question whatever just happened, inhaling shakily as his hand travels up your bare thigh, thumb brushing over the damp spot on your panties. Tom furrows his eyebrows and groans, lowly, at the feeling of your arousal on his finger.

“This turns you on? You are more pathetic than I thought.”

The firm grip he has on your throat softens, and your lungs finally expand with oxygen as you suck in a deep breath. He takes out a weird looking stick from inside his coat and mutters something for you inaudible. Just a second later your clothes are neatly folded on the floor and you stand there – half-naked, merely your lace underwear left on your otherwise exposed figure. You gasp in surprise and instinctively try to cover yourself, however Tom is quicker, grabs your wrist and sits you down on the soft mattress of your bed. Then, he does the same thing again, to himself this time.

Your eyes widen, trying to comprehend whatever just happened right in front of your eyes. “How- who are you? Some kind of magician?”

The brunette huffs, pushing you down onto the velvety sheets of your bed. “I am much more than a mere magician.”

And this time, he would let you keep the memory.

Before you can reply anything, he hovers above you, trailing kisses down your neck. Not like those you are used to from past experiences, though. They are rough and full of hunger, teeth grazing your skin, biting down here and there, practically marking you up as his own. Just like those dreams you have had.

Tom trails lower, stopping right at the swell of your breasts. “Still wearing too much.” He mutters under his breath, but it’s too late when you realize his intention. The material of your bralette rips with a sharp tear as it gives way to the force he is applying, the fabric sliding off to each side.

You want to complain, tell him that was one of your favourites, but when his teeth sink into the flesh of your breast any sane thoughts vanish from your mind. “Tom! Are you crazy?!” You shriek, attempting to push his head off you.

“Some people would say insane.” He retorts almost too calmly, lifting his head to answer, though not wasting much time before he dips down again to wrap his lips around your stiffened bud, sucking and biting down on it.

You throw your head back as soft moans escape your parted lips, your fingers raking through his perfect curls, tugging on them just slightly. His hand wanders down your stomach, and with a quick motion your panties are thrown on the floor.

“That is by the way no proper way to undress a woman.” You scold, and his eyes meet yours for a moment.

“You must be utterly delusional to assume I cared about that.”

Shaking your head you reach to the waistband of his briefs to get rid of them, blindly taking his length in your hand while you study his facial expressions. Only when you stroke him up and down, rubbing your thumb over his with precum glistening tip, you notice his size. Fuck.

His hand takes yours, pinning both of them above your head. Tom stills then, his eyes skimming over your naked figure underneath him for a brief moment as though he wanted to imprint your form into his mind forever.

“Keep your hands up there.” He demands lowly, and that is when you feel him aligning himself with your entrance, pushing into you steadily. You gasp at the blissful stretch Tom is providing you, burying his cock in your warm, welcoming walls.

“Season of love and peace, hm?” He rasps, pulling out of you almost entirely. “Let me show you what that means to me.”

A whole lot apparently.

“Because all you have caused me is anger and frustration.”

“Oh fuck- that’s too deep!” You cry out as he thrusts back into you at his last words, with much greater force this time. “Yeah? And I know you love it. Look how greedy you are, sucking me right in. See what a pathetic slut you are for it.”

His demeanour has in the meanwhile changed into something darker, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he mercilessly pounds into your tight cunt. You don’t exactly know what you have done wrong – he left you behind after all, not the other way around. However, who were you to complain if it meant you would get this?

Your hands reach to hold onto him, digging your nails into his skin, mark him like he did with you. A short-lived idea, it turns out. Tom hisses something, a word you can’t quite understand, and your hands return to their position above your head. Securely fastened with invisible binds.

“Wh- oh god! Oh dear god fuck-“ you cry out as he repeatedly hits that one spot deep inside of you that has stars blur your vision, subsequently having his hand wrap around your throat to muffle your moans. Then, his burning gaze meets yours.

“God? Pray to me. I am the only one above you, pray to me.”

Tom’s grip on your throat tightens at that, almost cutting off your airflow entirely.

Dreams do come true, after all.

The sounds of skin slapping against each other fills the room, and the air grows thick with the smell of lust and desire. You get to feel all of him, every single vein, even the slight curve of his perfect length. It all feels too good, too much for you to take. With your hands tied and voice taken away, that though is the only thing you can do – taking it.

“How does it feel-“ he breathes heavily, his dark brown curls sticking to his forehead as he punctuates his question with particularly rough thrusts. “How does it feel to be completely at my mercy, hm? To have me decide whether you get to take another breath?”

You can’t manage a reply, too caught up in pleasure clouding your mind, too focused on the slight sting you get as he brushes your cervix with every thrust as your walls give way to him entirely.

Soon your eyes flutter close, your consciousness slowly fading away under the firm grip he has on your throat. His hand then releases you, instead delivering a harsh smack to your cheek.

He adds another one as you don’t respond immediately.

“Breathe.”

You cough, gasping for air as your vision slowly comes back to you and are met with the brunette glancing down at you. “Doing so well for me.” He groans lowly, his thrusts growing more erratic as you clench around him, feeling your own high building rapidly.

“Please- please I need you to-“ you whine, bucking your hips against his thrusts for more friction. He reaches between you two, thumb finding your clit, rubbing figure eights on it. “S’ that what you need?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, oh Tom-“ your wrists pull at the bindings, but it’s no use. “Come. Come and show me how much of a slut you are for me.”

That’s the only thing you need to hear before the waves of your climax wash over you, repeating his name like a prayer as your cunt greedily pulses around his length, encouraging his release as well.

“I fucking- hate you-“ he grunts, emptying himself inside of you, biting down on your shoulder and collapsing on your spent body afterwards. You two stay like this for a brief moment before he pulls out of you. Tom keeps your legs spread and you whimper softly as his fingers swipe through your glistening folds, gathering some of your mixed arousal before he brings it to your lips.

“Open up. Taste us.” He demands, and you follow his command, taking his digits into your mouth to suck them clean. You never take your eyes off him, and the sight in front of you is heavenly. Tom looks oddly messy like this, hair disheveled, beads of sweat visible on his forehead, lips slightly parted as he breathes. Lord have mercy, you think.

 He withdraws his fingers from your mouth and cleans himself with what you have learned to be his wand. “You are a wizard?” You ask, sitting up to meet his gaze.

Tom nods. “Do not speak to anyone about this. Or I won’t have mercy with you next time.”

You grin. “There will be a next time?”

Just another second later and he stands before you, fully dressed in his black robes, his eyes wandering over your figure and his lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Maybe. If you wear the necklace.”

You point towards the mess on your sheets and inner thighs expectantly. “Could you-“

“I am quite positive you will be fine.” Tom replies sternly, getting ready to leave.

It’s not that you were expecting him to stay the night, though you couldn’t help but feel disappointed he was leaving so soon. Your eyes follow his tracks, and when he then stands before you to hand you your clothes and a towel, you take the opportunity.

“Would you stay if I wanted you to?” You ask, still hopeful, though you already know the answer.

He shakes his head. “No.”

And so Tom takes out his wand, hesitating for a moment before he turns to face you for one last time.

“Happy Christmas.”

Just like that, he is gone again.

And the necklace? The most beautiful you have ever worn.

tagging for pt 2: @theacreativity @sirenseaborne @tomriddleswhcre

[literaryvein-reblogs]

When your Character Needs Outdoor Survival Skills

Knowledge of outdoor survival techniques can improve your chances of making it through a life-or-death situation. Examples include knowing how to make a shelter, forage for edible plants, find water, and build a fire.

Consider these essential survival skills to improve your chances of success in the wilderness:

Build a fire. Use dry leaves, pine needles, or small pieces of wood to start a fire that can enable you to cook a meal, stay warm, or ward off wild animals from your shelter site. Use waterproof matches or a firestarter to spark tinder and kindling.

Craft a short-term survival shelter. Depending on the climate, weather, terrain, and available resources, you might want to construct a temporary refuge to shield you from the elements until you encounter your rescuers. You should insulate your shelter to help you retain valuable body heat in cold weather or provide sun protection to minimize your dehydration in a hot, arid climate.

Establish a hierarchy of priorities. A stranded hiker or someone forced into a survival scenario should work diligently to address the “rule of threes”: The average human can survive three hours without shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food. These timelines are somewhat subjective to the individual and the climate, yet the rule of threes can provide a template to guide actions in the field.

Find a clean water source. A human can survive only about three days without water, so finding and collecting drinking water should be one of your priorities in a survival scenario. Use a water filter, iodine tablets, or a fire to boil the water. However you choose to purify water, it’s imperative to do it in adequate amounts to meet your hydration needs.

Locate a food source. Gather surplus supplies when possible and diversify your diet as much as you can to provide your body with essential protein, fats, vitamins, and minerals. Forage for edible flowers, roots, and mushrooms; use natural materials to build snares for small game; or craft fishing tools to catch fish.

Practice excellent hygiene. Bacteria, parasites, and pathogens can enter the body through food and open wounds. Practicing cleanliness and good hygiene will reduce your chance of succumbing to an illness. Remaining healthy is crucial since even a few days of bed rest could reduce your chances of survival and quickly deplete your resources.

Stay calm and assess the situation. The most important survival tool you have at your disposal is your mind. When you find yourself in a life-or-death survival situation, the amygdala of the human brain will pump the body full of stress hormones to trigger a fight-or-flight response. Counter your instincts by taking a moment to collect your thoughts—this will help you eliminate unnecessary risks and minimize your energy expenditure until you have a solid plan in place. Remaining calm is a must since avoidable mistakes can be lethal, especially in the wilderness.

Signal nearby search and rescue teams. Use visual and auditory signals like mirrors, whistles, and smoke to attract the attention of rescuers and notify them of your location for evacuation. Keep a solar battery charger for your cell phone in your survival kit to keep you connected—especially if traveling alone.

Test your bushcraft skills before you need them. You might already know how to navigate by the North Star or tie a bowline knot, but you should run a preparedness drill to test your skills in realistic scenarios. Knowledge is essential, but practice can help you determine your strengths and weaknesses so that you can ultimately improve.

Use everything at your disposal. A survivor must pack light and move quickly, making it necessary to collect water and food while on the go and carry multipurpose items worth their weight in utility. For example, a stranded backpacker might not have a manufactured first aid kit or bug-out bag from which they can draw any necessary tools or materials to survive comfortably. Instances like these require ingenuity and good problem-solving skills. For example, a plastic bag, a length of paracord, and a supply of duct tape could become the primary elements of a shelter that shields you from the wind and rain.

To test yourself, practice hard skills under circumstances that reflect the challenges you might face in the field.

Mental conditioning, a positive attitude, and creative problem-solving skills also make an impact.

Consistent practice and improvement will boost your confidence so that you can remain resilient in the face of adversity.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs