#Cold and Cough Prevention Tips

[spartanmemesmedical]

सर्दी-जुकाम और घरेलू उपाय

सर्दी-जुकाम एक सामान्य लेकिन कष्टदायक समस्या है जो किसी भी मौसम में हो सकती है। यह खासकर तब परेशानी का सबब बनता है जब मौसम बदलता है। सर्दी-जुकाम होने पर शरीर में कमजोरी महसूस होती है और सामान्य दिनचर्या में विघ्न डालता है। इसकी शुरुआत अक्सर नाक बहने, गले में खराश और धीरे-धीरे बुखार चढ़ने के साथ होती है।खैर, घबराने की जरूरत नहीं है क्योंकि सर्दी-जुकाम के लिए कई कारगर घरेलू उपाय हैं जो आपको इस…

[onefite]

Natural Methods to Treat and Prevent Seasonal Colds and Flus

‍ As the seasons change, it’s not uncommon to be plagued by the dreaded cold and flu symptoms. But what if there was a natural way to treat and prevent these seasonal nuisances? Look no further! In this article, we’ll explore the best natural methods to keep those sniffles and coughs at bay. With a focus on holistic wellness, our brand has perfected the art of combating colds and flus with the…

[vatelixx]

The enormity of my desire (disgusts me),

Early seasons (1 — start of 2) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT (and fluff, some angst in relation to Spencer’s past because it can never be too happy, we’re not allowed nice things here). first times & explorations of intimacy.

──── autistic spencer (it’s a central theme to the plot), reader is actually morally good (for once).

Warnings: sub spencer (what did u even expect?), heavy corruption kink, first time for Spencer (all i do is sit around and think about how i’d like to devirgin that genius), HEAAVY praise kink, very very inexperienced Spencer, slight? oral fixation, they’re both just rlly down bad (i told u i would write something light, i delivered), Reader is whipped, Spencer is sooo much worse. Biblical references, Religious imagery, i think i talk about math equations???? And random metaphors/complexes.

w.c: 4k

a/n: i rlly wanted to explore aspects of spencer that criminal minds swept under the rug (cough cough his undiagnosed autism, cough cough his social exclusion, cough cough his crippling fear of forever being alone).

───────────────

There’s a lot Spencer hasn’t done.

He knows he’s behind, that he never quite caught up when it came to the taboo of sex and intimacy. Everything, everything, he’s ever had has been centred around exclusion, alienation, he feels like he’s lived on pause. Frozen, never advancing, stuck on ‘go’. Touch isn’t easy for him, interpersonal relationships are worse. He’s different, god he’s heard that his entire life. ‘You’re not weird, you’re just… different’, but maybe he is weird. Maybe his whole existence is just one big cosmic fuck you, because he’s missed out on so much, so much that he can’t understand, comprehend, act out against. Falling behind; this is the only area of life where he continuously comes up short, inexperienced, naive, he’s not used to being incompetent.

He’s never experienced want the way others do. He could never just hook up, fall into the body of another, expose them to the vulnerable elements of his stature. Open himself up to scrutiny. He might be a genius, he might be intellectually advanced, accepted into a multitude of ivy leagues before he was old enough to vote, but there’s drawbacks to his success. Social awkwardness, an inability to blend, mould, be one of the crowd. Sometimes he wishes he was average, something grey and mundane, so far reduced from the person he is now— it would all be plainly simple.

But he’s not, he’s not. So, this is the weight he has to bare for the brain he never asked for.

Pyrrhic victory, he’ll always be renowned for his intelligence. ‘You’re going to change the world kid,’ maybe, but simultaneously, he’ll never get to experience said world. There’s a chance he’ll always be on the outside, watching normal people gravitate towards each other. Live dreary lives of domesticated simplicity. Stacked bills, arguments over money and parenting techniques. Going to bed angry, only to turn around, mid-night, and resolve it, to not sleep on bad blood. To take them off the couch, to settle into predestined sides of the mattress.

There’s not enough possessions in the world he’d sacrifice just to experience love.

Hedgehog dilemma, the challenges of human intimacy. The hedgehogs want to move closer, to preserve heat during cold. But, they are forced, biologically cursed to remain apart, in order to prevent themselves from harming each other. Spencer doesn’t want to be hurt, to hurt, it’s a morbid byproduct of his upbringing; all he ever endured was mockery.

He thought he’d never get to experience the physical, carnal aspects of existence. And sure, he made peace with the notion, accepted the consequences of being born atypical. Learnt to live without.

But then, oh then there was you. Pretty, intellectual you who quite literally tipped his world on it’s axis. Upheaved the most stable of routines. New to the BAU, he wanted you to last. To stay around, endure the worst of the job. If only for his selfish benefit of orbiting in your presence.

He remembers how it all started: Detroit, another case, more budget cuts, forced proximity that sent you spiralling into a shared bed for the night.

“You’re my favourite person in the team.” you admitted, “And I know that’s dumb, because we’ve spoken the least, but… you’re just, so you. That’s a good thing by the way, a really really good thing.”

He couldn’t quite believe you were talking about him. Spencer, who spilt coffee, and slipped into ceaseless tangents about obscure information. Spencer, who walked into walls when you were around, stumbling over his sentences before deftly, very astutely, giving up, walking away mid-conversation. He wore sweater-vests and colourful mismatched socks, it’s not like he was going to be crowned ‘white boy of the month’.

“Not dumb.” Spencer had responded, shifting closer to tangle further into the warm mess of this accidental situation. “That’s good. I like being me.” he mumbled. “Sometimes…. sometimes it sucks. But that’s okay. I think it’s okay?”

He moved to press his face into the crook of your neck, but you were faster, gathering him by tousled hair, forcing him to look you in the eye.

Oh.

“Please. Please.” he whispered, breaking apart, fracturing, “Please like me. And more than in a weird, ‘just friends or coworkers’ way.”

You did. You do. He should’ve kissed you then, but maybe he was scared, maybe he couldn’t quite discern his feelings, separate the logic from the emotional. So he waited, waited, waited until now. Your third date, you take him to an exhibition within a science centre: replica models of the solar system, filling rooms up, papier-mâché sculptures illuminated by light.

Best date ever. You listen, even when he’s rambling about planets, when he’s pointing out that yes, Jupiter’s density is less than water. That, technically, it would float in a bathtub, if one was built to accommodate its size. You don’t care that he’s not exactly the staple-piece for conventionally attractive males. That he’s nerdish, and awkward, and so so inexperienced when it comes to this.

In his apartment, later, much later, he looks at you, looks at you like you’re the one who just solved the fucking Riemann hypothesis.

“What do you want the most? Like,… if you could ask for one thing.” you say, and god, Spencer loves when you pose these deep, hypothetical questions. When you make him think, because you, you are the biggest challenge to his intellect yet.

You. He wants to say. But he settles for ‘Being remembered,’ instead. He works to untangle layers of fabric, your scarf, your jacket, letting out an exasperated laugh when he meets your amused gaze. “Right now though? I think I’d settle for kissing you.”

You cup his jaw, tracing your fingers along the sharp curve, and god he has perfect anatomy. “Settle huh? You should be more appreciative.”

He leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your lips. Drawing away for a moment, just to return because he’s never had this before. Because for the first time in his life, he gets it. He gets physical attraction, even if it took time. He’s kissed, been kissed, yes. But he could count those moments on one hand, and if you asked how many he truly enjoyed, he’d be left with no fingers raised.

“Believe me, i’m very appreciative…”

This isn’t like before, what he felt in the past; he expected something monotone, flighty, a brief fleeting moment of satisfaction. Means to an end. No, it’s actually the best thing he’s ever experienced, and he’s going to become so insufferable after this, because he’s just found out he is very very into kissing.

Correction: he’s very into kissing you.

In the moment between parting, and touching again, he assumes you to be divinity personified. Spencer has never been religious, but something of this magnitude should be canonised. He wants to ask you. Ask you when you became this beautiful. When you became the person he needs to kiss a second time, kiss a third time, kiss until his lips go numb.

A shaky inhale, a pause. “I hope… I hope that it was okay - I mean, it was good for me. Really, really good. Um—“ to be honest, he’s just glad he didn’t say thankyou.

“Yeah, Spence. That was… wow.” you draw your bottom lip between teeth, press into tissued flesh. Jesus Christ. “Wanna try again?”

Yes yes yes yes. He looks at you, pupils blown obscenely out of proportion. Part of him wants to say, ‘why didn’t we do this sooner?’ But that’s not fair; he’s only ready now. Now that he feels, now that he might be a little in love with you.

“Please,” is his answer, and then he’s catching your face in the palms of his hand, tugging your lips back to his, because admittedly, they have ached in the long, extensive period you were apart (53 seconds).

This time it deepens and Spencer sees stars. It’s an astronomical phenomenon, something interstellar— and god, he’s relating kissing to space. They should just tape the word ‘virgin’ to his back and call it a day.

There’s soft little breathy sighs escaping his mouth now, bleeding into yours. And yeah, spontaneous combustion might be a real threat. Actually no, it would hardly be spontaneous; there’s a clear, clear cause, and it just so happens to be your ruinous lips.

This is an entirely new facet of the human experience. The kiss is electric; he’s always been partial toward physics, and right now his veins carry an alternating current.

You know, he could probably write a thesis based on this.

You both stumble back back back until he’s hitting a wall, and yes, thankyou. He’s making all sorts of sounds he can’t justify, and it’s a supernova, an infinite black pool of— oh, he thinks he might die, ascend, transcend, when you press your thumb against his chin, hold your lips at just a little slant from his. Force him to wait there.

“Please,” he’s never been above begging. A worthy sacrifice, one he’ll certainly repeat again because you return to the kiss, and the world around him dissolves.

You’ve got one hand tangled in his hair. Tousled auburn, fingers sinking into strands, pushing all the way down to the root. The other is still cupping his face, keeping him close, keeping him selfishly close actually.

“Spence,” you murmur. And yes. Yes. He likes that. The way his name sounds rolling off your tongue, like it was destined to be there. Like he was destined to be yours.

His world is ending. So is yours. Fuck it, he presses himself against your thigh, and ohmygodohmygod. He’s being loud, he’s actually being so criminally loud right now because apparently he’s the most whorish virgin to ever exist.

“I lied, I lied,” he admits between messy kisses, “When you asked what I wanted the most? It’s not to be remembered, well it is, its on the list. But—“ he groans, kisses you again because talking interrupts matters that are more important. Like your lips.

“I wanna cum.”

Eloquent.

Spencer Reid being dirty? Oh, it’s hot, it’s so hot to reduce someone to such an obscene state. To reduce him, the boyish fumbling nerd (who just so happens to be the most beautiful person in existence) to such a degrading mess.

Still, there’s shock. Not because he said it (you greatly appreciate the indecent things falling from those pretty lips right now), but because—

“You’ve never? Haven’t even experienced it once? By yourself?”

He should be embarrassed, but his lips are red, his eyes are glassy, and the bulge in his pants is straining to be touched. “Never,” he sighs shakilly. “Never, and i’m— i’m starting to understand why it’s so popular.”

He whimpers, pushes himself against your thigh, because the friction, yes. “Is that weird? Please don’t think i’m weird. Because I’m really, really weird. Just maybe… not in that way?”

It’s never been enough. His body sometimes feels numb to the touch, and yet still so very overstimulated. Like he manually blocks himself from feeling, already prepared for the flinch. How does he explain that life hasn’t been kind to him? That he hates his body because of what people made it out to be when he was a child. Stripping him naked, tying him to a goalpost, always the underdog. The one to be targeted, tormented.

“It’s actually kinda hot,” you interrupt his thoughts, and just because you’re evil, corrupt, the worst, you press your thigh harder against his clothed cock, palm covering his mouth when a plethora of whiny sounds escape his mouth.

It’s performative, really. Alone in his apartment, there’s no need for noise control. So when your thumb slips between parted, swollen lips, he knows to suck. The average human hand has between 10,000 and 10 million bacteria, and Spencer does not actually give a fuck anymore.

“To think that you’ve never even felt what it’s like. That you’re gonna feel it with me for the first time. I get to see that shit— god, you’re going to look so fucking pretty for me.”

You draw your thumb out of his mouth, and he has the audacity to whine.

He’s never wanted anything more in his entire life. It’s all tertiary now. Only this matters.

“Please don’t praise me—“ he protests, “I’ll probably finish in my pants.”

“Praise kink, noted.”

You laugh, and he can only groan, curse existence for being this cruel to his overworked, undervalued body. “Don’t— don’t laugh. You’re not supposed to laugh, that can heighten performance anxiety. Increase insecurity, and…” he sighs, “You do not care. Sadistic tendencies, noted.”

“Shut up. Wanna see you.” you say, and he’s just muttering breathless mhm’s, too delirious to function; his body is betraying the last iota of self-control like the little whore it apparently is.

His sweater comes off first, then his top. Discarded fabric, his raised arms when you mutter a candid ‘up’, giving way to exposed skin. In response? Your pupils dilate. Spencer knows because he’s analysing, profiling. If you hate him like this, he’s fairly certain he’ll drag himself into a self-dug early grave. He wishes he was being melodramatic. That your approval didn’t have such a substantial impact on his carefully-constructed ego. But, oh, it does. It does.

Thin, with a long, defined torso, he blushes, rose blemished skin, when your hands drag across his stomach. He’d love to say he reacts sanely, suavely. Urbane to your touch. But that would be a total, discreditable lie. Instead, his back arches, seeking contact, following the path of your fingertips with pitiful desperation. He feels malleable, willing to bend and contort, if only to feel more.

“How can you not think you’re pretty, Spence?” His pants are gone next, then his stained boxers, fabric borderline sheer now, soaked through with pre-cum.

Spencer feels betrayed. His body never responds, not to his own hands, not to his own thoughts. And yet, the moment you’re on him, he’s a live-wire. It’s sick, heinous, double-crossing. Maybe it’s purposeful, done just to spite him. Figures.

“Holy shit, look at you. Look at how perfect you are.” Spencer wants to object, because he distinctly told you not to praise him. However,.. right now, the lights are on but nobody is home. Brain-death, he’s certainly in a vegetative state.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” he whimpers, because no amount of knowledge about human anatomy and physiology could prepare him for how he feels under your touch. No amount of education in the psychology of relationships could inform him of how viscerally wrong the way you look at him feels.

Because it’s not wrong, not all. It’s the most right he’s ever felt, and he’ll tell you that if you’ll just keep it up.

The sounds he’s making are phonographic, lewd, you’ve given up on trying to stifle them now. Where have you been hiding? Your eyes fall, and he wants to blush away from the exhibiting gaze, but he’s just…. too far gone; the thought of your touch outweighs any previous reticence. Then, oh then, you drop to your knees, and shit. He expected your thigh, maybe your hand if he was lucky, not—

This. Your mouth, your tongue, your pretty lips; god, god, is this a sin? Because if it is, he’ll take it.

“Please,” he whines, and he can’t look anymore because the sight alone is going to send him over the edge. He’s gripping the wall, scrambling scrambling for purchase, because he’s trying not to grip you, but how exactly does he keep this respectful?

He’s pretty sure they’re past that, considering your mouth is currently wrapped around his cock, and he’s debauched.

You want this, you want him, he feels like he’s transcended humanity, like he’s become someone, anyone and anything, that deserves the way you’re taking him apart, piece by piece. In the aftermath, he hopes you don’t leave a single ounce of him intact.

“Wanna kiss you. Oh— oh oh,” he’s sobbing now, “Come back here. Miss your mouth— even if it’s,” he looks down and that’s a mistake. “Please.”

Of course it would be Spencer to disrupt the best (and admittedly only) head of his life because he needs you closer.

You oblige, raising from your knees, and Spencer thinks it might be sacrilegious. But then again, he feels religion in your touch so it can’t be too profane. Maybe? He’s not sure, he’s not sure and it doesn’t matter. Ethics and morality have long since disintegrated, sins are engrained into humankind. He almost wants to thank Eve for tearing into the apple, because it’s allowed this irreverence to occur.

Spencer blindly follows you through the apartment, stumbling and muttering until he can collapse against the bed. Baring his pretty neck as his head hits the bedframe. Tangled in sheets, draped over his lap, his deft fingers run across your waist, mapping out the structure of your frame. If only to remember, recite this act of blasphemy.

“Spence,” you whisper, and then his lips are crashing into yours, stealing breath, stealing sanity. He whimpers, murmurs a protest when you draw back, and you can only laugh. “Lets get you off, yeah? You wanna feel an orgasm, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes please. That would uh— yes.” he’s not even sure how he’s conscious right now. His body, god his body, has endured more pleasure in the last hour than it has for the majority of his life. Your hands scathe, and Spencer is willing to indefinitely burn, if just to feel them one more time.

You only stop to take off your clothes, and surely there needs to be prep? To reaffirm, he knows anatomy, the correct procedure, how the transgression is supposed to occur. And yet, that’s from a clinical, objective mindset. Do this, do that, etc etc. Nothing works out like that in practice.

You’re so wet, panties stained through, he spares a moment to run his fingers across your thighs, hand slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. The moan that follows has him distracted, thumb tracing circlets, over and over until you’re pulling back to return the balance. The balance, which admittedly is skewed, tipped scales, you’re on top. He falls to the weight of your influence.

And yeah, he’s more than fine with that. Jesus, you drag your panties down, down your thighs, your legs, then they’re reaching your ankles, pooling there for a moment before they’re being discarded, tossed somewhere on his floor — leaving behind a souvenir that yes, yes this happened.

“I can’t,” he says, burying his face into your shoulder when you take him. It’s slow, sinking onto his cock like every inch of warmth will destroy him. Maybe it will. Maybe he doesn’t care, because he deserves this. He deserves to feel after so much repression.

Or maybe, maybe he’s just become the biggest slut known to mankind. Likely.

Your body presses against his, and he thinks he’s going to disintegrate, because he feels so good. He understands now, he understands why people do this. Why it’s integral to the function of most. This is the best day of his life. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Of. His. Life.

There’s this noise, this pathetically loud whimper when you start to roll your hips— and oh your body is wet against him, and you’re so tight, and it’s perfect because he doesn’t have to do anything.

He can just sit here, look pretty, and cry.

He knows he’s a giver, that he’d bleed himself dry for you. It’s a curse, he supposes: so willing to bend backwards for the satisfaction of the people he trusts. But, this is foreign, and he wants to watch you, aimlessly stare, dumb and empty-headed as you wield his body like a weapon. Turn him into something perniciously yours.

Spencer has no reference for what an orgasm is supposed to feel like, and yeah, he’s really good at guessing in these type of situations. Because he’s rolling his thumb over your clit again, and he wants to draw it into his mouth, to see you laid out across bedsheets, writhing, unable to do anything but suffocate him with your thighs.

You clench around him, back arched, releasing a series of strained moans. With one hand tangled in his dishevelled hair, the other pressed against his chest, your face contorts, your body stiffens. There’s no way his incessant whimpering just got you off?

Okay. So you like him desperate. Point taken.

“Please— please, wanna cum. Wanna feel it so bad,” he’s slurring over his words, sentences punctured by devastating whimpers. And look at him, asking for permission, waiting even though his body has been teetering on the edge for so long now.

“Shh, shh..” you press your forehead against his, and he melts. Reoccurring theme. His hand grips your jaw, thumb pushed firmly against your chin, keeping you close. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Gonna give me your first?”

“Mhm— mhm…” is all he can say. When you pick up your pace, he has to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, whimpers messy and broken off, suppressed against your warm skin.

“Oh. Oh…” he repeats, again. Like there’s anything else he could utter, because this is earth-shattering.

It’s the sun, and all eight planets combined, and the universe collapsing in on itself, and he’s bucking, squirming, releasing into you, spilling deep.

He sobs. Breaks down. Because it’s so so good, and he can’t believe he ever deprived his body of this.

Neediest whore to ever exist, apparently.

It takes him a while to come back. Longer to regain motor function, to sink into present day. Life, and expectations, and everything, everything, your touch eradicated.

“Just… just stay like this?” he asks, collapsing against your body after he’s drawn out of you. There’s mess, evidence of your ministrations, but cleanliness seems futile when he’s blissed out, caught in a post-orgasmic haze that yes yes yes he needed so badly.

You card your hands through his hair, watch the way he stares up at you, large, widened eyes, chin resting against your chest. “Hi,” he mutters dumbly.

“Spence,” Spence, Spence, Spence. He could drown himself in that nickname.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“You we’re so good—“

He rolls away from you, finding a home for his face in the pillow. “Stop. Stop.” he groans, “Don’t do that. You’re going to destroy me. I’m not… equipped for this, for you. Someone should just sedate me, put me out of my misery, a coma sounds like—“

He tilts his head to the side, relinquishing, “Okay. Sorry. Meltdown over. Can we shower? Then maybe do this again? Which will make the shower inconsequential, I suppose. There’s a new documentary I want to watch, and oh, you still haven’t seen the third Star Wars—“

He’s happy, content, over the fucking moon, to be silenced with your lips. “Yeah,” he murmurs, hand interlocking with yours as you both fall back against the mattress, “Let’s do this again.”

[guideoflife]

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife # 8- Drama Queen

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Can be read with others in series or alone

Warnings: allusions to sex, mostly fluff and comedy

- - - -

Its been a pretty quiet evening, and with you home, thats saying something. Joel's minding his business watching Tv when you come plopping down next to him on the couch. He doesn't acknowledge you.

So you scoot over and sigh heavily. Still No reaction from the male.

You feint a yawn and snuggle your head on his shoulder. He smiles a little, but doesn't look at you. You rub affectionately like a kitten.

Nothing.

Take the hint, you stupid hunk.

Your pretty manicured hand creeps on his thigh, stroking up and down senually with delicate fingertips.

He knows where this is going, but he won't entertain you. He coughs a little, bored, and continues scrolling channels. Wants to see how far you'll go to get what you want.

As if on cue, you persist. Wrapping your arm over his broad shoulders, hitching your knee awkwardly on his thigh despite the baby in your belly squirming at the uncomfortable angle. You playfully boop his nose, giggling like a flirt. He purses his lips, but nothing else.

You stare at his profile, that unique Joel Miller look of concentration. Handsome and stoic—that little shithead.

You're teasingly rubbing your fingers through his scruff, twisting gently as a massage.

You bring your lips and kiss him kindly on the cheek. Something sweet. Innocent. Then again, but a little longer. Then some more, peppered down his jaw, along his pulse. Heated and wetter. Growing more needy and nipping his ear, making little happy moans as your hand continues to wander over his legs, tip toeing to his crotch.

Joel sighs, finally looking at you. "There a reason you're trying to get me turned on, ma'am?"

"Mmm," you hum, biting your lip and staring his plump ones. You crawl closer, breasts smashed against his bicep as you lick your lips, tongue peaking out with lusty eyes trying to put him under your best charm. Yesyesyes give it to me, Fucker!

"I want a Big—" you kiss his nose "—Messy—" teeth nip at his lower lip "—Hot—" you peck him teasingly, sucking his flesh in your mouth so he knows you mean business. Then you stare down at him with your serious eyes, foreheads pressing,

"—Fudge Cookie Dough Chocolate Gooey Fantasy Milkshake with extra Rainbow Sprinkles from Clyde's Creamery."

Yeah. He knew exactly this is where this was going.

He cracks a warm smile, cupping your jaw and parting your lips with his thumb. You suck it into your mouth, hoping to please him. Just as hes about to kiss you, he leans in and says, "No. Its 11pm. Bedtime."

You get off his lap with a cold shoulder and a scoff, proceeding to ignore him for the rest of the night.

Hes evens surprised when you go to bed still silent, facing away from him without a kiss goodnight when you turn off your lamp.

Until it's 2am when he's startled awake by the sound of the the front door opening. He's storming downstairs trying not to trip, and haphazardly throwing a shirt on backwards while in his boxers, only to see you with a packed bag, hand dramatically caressing  your bump with fake ass tears down your cheek going outside to the car.

"Where the FUCK are you going??" He asks, rubbing his eyes. Aggravation and rough exhaustion evident in his tone.

"You said you didn't love me, so I'm leaving," you huff. There's no hint of a joke in your words. Genuine pain. Hurt. Quiet and walking away. You dont wait to see his reaction and without another word, you turn to leave.

Hes so whiplashed, wracking his brain trying to remember any time he even remotely could have said something like that and you interpret it—

"I SAID YOU COULDN'T HAVE A HOT FUDGE COOKIE DOUGH CHOCOLATE GOOEY FANTASY MILKSHAKE because it was FUCKING 11PM AND CLOSED! Now get your fat beautiful ass and our baby back in here and dont ever pull this stupid stunt again!"

You scowl at him, preventing any physical reaction of your internal swooning he thinks my ass is pretty. You hold your ground and refuse to move from your position, defiant, in flip flops and a long nightgown on the front porch at 2am.

Joel furrows his brows and closes his eyes, soothing over the wrinkles you've caused to grow on his forehead.  "Fuck. I'll get you one tomorrow morning for breakfast. Okay?"

You smile giddily and skip back inside "Okie!" You step past him drop your shit on the couch, kissing him on the cheek. "Dont forget the extra rainbow sprinkles."

He grunts, glad that it's dark enough in the house you can't see how exhausted and annoyed he is.

"Oh and close the door, Joel! You'll wake the neighbors with your unnecessary shouting bit. Dramatic much?" You scoff, and waddle up the stairs and right to bed like nothing happened.

-

Tommy also has access to your ring camera notifications and sees Joel and you out there and the whole conversation, and he's laughing so hard when he watches the playback. He teases grumpy exhausted Joel the next morning, conveniently with a to-go milkshake in his hand at 8am.

"Softy for your girl?"

"Shut up."

"And when you have the baby, then there's gonna be two of her!" Tommy wheezes.

Joel's saggy and wrinkled eyes manage to open wider than ever as that particular horror sets over him.

- - - -

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[whoskimii]

FUCK ME LIKE YOU WANT ME . . .

★ ridin' him ft. toji ! ★

˖˚₊ warnings ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ cowgirl, mean toji, p in v, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it), cigarette, alcohol.

as he stared at the ceiling out of boredom, toji exhaled a thick cloud of grey smoke. his emerald green eyes drifted closed and he sighed, almost as if he were searching to find solace but couldn't, because something was preventing him from doing so.

satirically, that something was you.

“ngh, toji...” you breathed out, although with difficulty. “please... 'm really trying my hardest...” you managed to speak. your pitifully small hands gripped at his broad shoulders to find a semblance of support. the sight almost made him want to coo at you. but you both knew it'd be a sneering coo.

he took another slow, lazy drag of his cigarette. “yeah ?” he asked, watching you with keen eyes. his words were coming out muffled as his lips were still wrapped around the tip of the cigarette. “your hardest, huh ? let me laugh. 's not enough, dollie.” he exhaled, blowing the smoke in your face, his chest rumbling with laughter as he saw you cough.

you were trying, really. but toji was simply a laborious man to please.

you resumed your movements, and driven by a surge of energy, you became more vigorous. your meaty ass was slapping against the thick skin of his thighs as he continued to watch you with a disinterested expression. “still not enough, baby. c'mon. do better than that.”

his other hand lifted and soon enough, his lips met the bottleneck of his beer.

you despised how casual he was about the whole situation. you were putting your blood, sweat, and tears into riding him but here he was, almost judging you.

he stared at you with a detached expression, almost as if he was watching a mildly interesting show. “c'mon, girl. you really think you're doin' a good job here ?” he scoffed, flicking some ash from the burning cigarette in the ashtray on the armrest of the couch. “seems like you're slackin' a bit, tonight.”

you felt like you were merely wasting his time. he looked amused, perhaps even condescending.

“i was expecting more from you, sweet thing. somethin' fun, yeah ? not this bullshit.” he was beginning to get annoyed by your pitiful attempt at pleasing him.

his voice was flat, emotionless, still staring at you with a mixture of frustration and disappointment. “this isn't exactly what i had in mind when i thought 'bout spendin' the night with you, y'know ?” his eyes never left yours, even as the smoke he exhaled swirled in the air.

you sniffled softly, shame eating away at your body. “toji... 'm sorry...” you felt small under his cold gaze. "sorry, huh ?" he scoffed. "doesn't change the fact that you're doin' a shitty job tonight." he looked bored.

you doubled your efforts for the umpteenth time, soft cunnie sucking him in, along with the obscene amount of slickness that surrounded his cock. “y'know, doll, 'm really getting bored watching you struggle like a damn dyin' fish out of water." he clicked his tongue as you slid a shaky hand in his dark hair. “i can get off better with my own hand.”

you stopped again and took a deep breath before shifting on top of him. you planted your knees on the couch, on each side of his thighs. instead of placing your hands on his shoulders, you put them behind him, gripping the couch. you resumed your movements, pussy clenching around his girthy cock.

he grunted lowly, the first sign of emotion he'd shown since the whole thing started. he finally finished his cigarette and his beer, which allowed him to rest his arms on the back of the sofa. “there we go, that's a little better.” he stated with a heavy sigh.

he watched the tip of your tongue rest between your pink lips as you concentrated. he cocked an eyebrow in mild amusement. “that's more like it...” he chuckled. “c'mon, keep going. you ain't done yet.”

your cute little pussy squeezed his shaft tightly, earning a groan from him. “well,” he sighed. “that's better...” you mewled softly beside his ear, feeling the family bubble in your lower tummy tighten. “toji, 'm gonna come...” as your voice reached his ears, he chuckled. “yeah ? already ?”

as you nodded, he began playing with your throbbing clit. “don't know if i should give you a reward or punish you. might do both later.” he glanced down at the spot where your bodies joined, watching shamelessly. his pubic hair was soaked. “toji... toji...” you breathed.

"cum f' me." he blurted. you gasped as a sudden, intense wave of pleasure washed over your body. your dirty little cunnie tightened around his cock as you came. “oh...” you whined, swollen bottom lip caught between your teeth.

as you finally came down from your high, your pretty eyes fluttered open. toji had been watching with a lazy smirk, resting his massive hands on your plushy hips. "i didn't cum, lil' one. you gotta try harder."

shit.

[theresatzu]

I'm at your side (always have been)

Featuring: Isagi Yoichi x reader

Containing: fluff, slight angst, Isagi comforting reader

-----------------------------------

----------------------------------------------------

It had been a rainy afternoon. Rain droplets rhythmically pattered against the window, fading into the cadence of the football match that was streaming on Isagi's tv.

Isagi was leisurely laying on the couch, arm slung over the back of the sofa. His feet were propped up on the small coffee table in front of him.

The scene painted a serene picture, but the quiet was disturbed by rapid knocking on the door.

Eyebrows furrowed, Isagi tore his eyes away from the screen, making his way towards the front door.

The insistent knocking started anew, and Isagi frowned, chanting, "Yeah, yeah, already coming," whilst his hand on the door handle and throwing the door open, "can you please have some... patience..." He trailed off, surprise coating his voice.

His eyes widened.

In front of his door was you. Hair sticking to your water slicked face, eyes bloodshot and runny as you stood there in the rainfall, shivering and evading his gaze.

"Y/n..." Isagi trailed off.

A conflicted expression flitted over your face. It had been a while since you'd talked with Isagi, let alone visited him. And yet, here you were in all your glory, shuddering in the cold on a random Saturday at 8 pm.

"I..." your voice faltered, cracky from your hoarse throat. You coughed once, sniffing slightly, as you hesitatently continued.

"I didn't know where else to go."

At your admission, Isagi's chest painfully contracted, his heartbeat speeding up.

Even after all this time apart, he was still the safe haven you ran to.

So how could he ever turn you away?

"Come on in." He opened the door wider, a welcoming gesture.

You gratefully inclined your head at him, however, trepidation prevented you from looking him directly into the eye.

After all, going with no contact for half a year was bound to make things difficult.

And yet, as you shuffled inside, water droplets cascading from down your face and splattering onto the ground, the way how you so easily made yourself at home at his place was so akin to many many times prior that a warmth spread throughout Isagi's body.

You took off your shoes, making a face when a loud squelch came from the objects.

Isagi huffed through his nose, amused, and a tentative smile spread across your face.

He then crouched down, taking out two slippers from underneath his shoe rack.

Your heartbeat stilted at the familiar sight.

"I... uh..." Isagi scratched his neck, the tips of his ears turning red. "Here you go. You still like those, right?"

You eyed the ridiculous, fluffy duck slippers. A snort almost slipping past your lips.

Isagi had gotten them for your birthday, three years ago, after having seen you eyeing them, but being too embarrassed to actually buy them.

And well, after you were more at his house than at yours, it made sense to keep them there. It had become some sort of tradition, every time you'd visit, you'd kick off your shoes and slip into the duck slippers.

It was so ridiculous, but it held so much meaning that your eyes couldn't help slightly tearing up at the sight.

"You... kept them?" You whispered, voice barely audible, but Isagi caught it anyway.

Isagi turned a little bashful, eyes refusing to look at you, instead opting to intently stare at the ground.

"Yeah... uh. They were, uhm, nice... i guess. A bit of a shame to throw them away, right?" Isagi chuckled, but it sounded a bit forced.

And well, how could he divulge that on the lone days, when things would get harder, he'd wear those dumb slippers, if only to extract a little comfort from them?

"Well, alright. Do you, uh, want to shower?" Isagi spoke up suddenly, startling both you and him at the sudden volume.

You looked down on your soaked clothes, coldness seeping through your numb body.

"I... yeah. That would be nice."

"Third door on the right, just down the hallway, you remember, right?"

You nodded.

Should I shower now? Or should I thank him? Or is that too awkward?

You didn't know what to do, so you stayed silent.

Isagi seemed to be in a similar predicament, his hands fidgeting as he stayed silent.

The silence stretched on. You shuffled awkwardly on your spot as Isagi looked anywhere but at you.

"So uhm... I'm gonna go--"

"Yeah! You do that, I will be... here." Isagi finished off lamely.

You gave him a small smile, then trudged up the stairs.

Once you were out of earshot, Isagi let out a long-suffering groan. " "You remember, right?" " He mocked himself. "How stupid am I?! Of course she remembers."

He'd doubt you'd forget, after the many nights spend at his house, playing videogames, discussing football matches, or even just to hang out, content to just be in his presence and vice versa.

Small moments in companionship, moments in which happiness was an all-round constant.

Isagi shook his head, before he could get lost in those memories. He wasn't ready to open that can of wurms.

Instead, Isagi went to the kitchen, preparing two cups of teas. His mind drifted away as he heard the shower run.

Your sudden visit had certainly taken him by surprise, a good one, mind you, but the state he'd found you in, was reason for concern.

You'd looked downright exhausted, eyelids drooping and shoulders slumped. He could only hope that a shower would freshen you up.

Not that you looked ugly. No. There was not a single day you'd looked anything but beautiful in his opinion. Graduation day, prom night, at 3 am on his couch, or even waking up at the crack of dawn, with sleepdust in your eyes and hair sticking up in all directions.

The ding of his tea maker going off startled him out of his thoughts.

Get your shit together. Isagi scolded himself.

After months living in seperation, you had showed up on his doorstep, and he wasn't about to ruin it.

But well, it was hard to ignore the giddy feeling that bubbled in his chest when he laid eyes on you.

"Uhm... Yoi--Isagi, I lent some clothes from you, if you don't mind."

You probably said something after that, because he saw your lips moving, but he couldn't register any sound as he took in your figure.

Here you were, hair wet and brushed, face glowing after the shower. But what really made his heart skip, was the sight of you in his clothes.

He recognised his old blue T-shirt, which loosely hugged your figure. The pair of baggy cargos pooled at your feet.

Isagi's eyes squinted in fondness. You looked like you were drowning in his clothes. But the thought of his clothes being worn by you, and smelling like you, did terrible, terrible things to his heart.

"Uhm... Y--Isagi?"

"Uh... huh? Oh!" Isagi startled, eyes widening slightly. "Please, uh... sit."

He gestured at the stool in front of him, a steaming mug of tea on the table.

You obliged, clasping your hands around the warm mug.

As you took a sip, the corners of your lips twitched upwards.

Isagi who had inconspiculously (no, it was actually rather obviously) watching you, immediately picked on the slight grin on your face.

It was momentarily, but Isagi internally pumped his fist.

He still had it. No one could ever top him making your favourite cup of tea.

Not even your so-called boyfriend.

It had been in the back of his mind. He'd been wondering why you were at his place, instead of your shared appartment with your significant other.

Not that he was complaining.

As you sipped your tea in silence, Isagi found himself sneaking glances into your direction. Millions of questions were at the tip of his tongue, but he knew that he couldn't just spring them on you.

So he opted to just wait it out.

As your tea was finished, you shakily exhaled. Fingers flexing, you opened your mouth, but no sound came out.

Your eyes flicked from left to right on the table, frustrated.

You so badly wanted to tell him. But the wound was still fresh and you were still hurt. Talking about it would mean tearing it even more apart, and you didn't know if you could take any more.

"Hey..." Isagi said, having picked up on your conflicted feelings. "You want to watch a movie?"

"... yeah."

A few minutes later, the movie played. It had been launched months ago, but you hadn't had the chance to watch it.

You recalled both you and Isagi having been excited about watching it. Having made plans and all, buying snacks and appointing a date to watch it.

But well, then your boyfriend had come along.

And the opportunity had passed.

But Isagi had the movie. And as the introductory scenes played, your eyes curiously drifted to Isagi's face. Isagi was looking straight ahead, but the tell-tale ticking of his jaw was the only sign of his nervosity.

"... did you watch this movie?"

"...no."

"How... how long have you had this?"

It was quiet. You could hear Isagi inhaling sharply, feeling the weight of his body moving.

"... couple of months..."

A small smile tugged on your lips.

"...okay."

You watched the rest of the movie in comfortable silence, the silence only being broken by the occasional comment or joke Isagi made.

Your heart tugged in your chest, watching and listening Isagi ramble about the movie, his face lighting up and his eyes shining.

And bit by bit, more smiles were drawn on your face, until you were full on laughing. Your delighted chuckles making your shoulders shake.

Isagi definitely did not stare. He was just... checking in on you. Okay? That's what friends do.

At some point, you had shuffled closer to him, seeking the alluring warmth Isagi exhaled.

However, unbeknownst to you, Isagi's heart raced the moment your head reluctantly laid itself into his lap, before relaxing and sinking in the shape of his upper legs.

He could only hope that you couldn't hear the frantic hammering of his heart this close.

Isagi looked at the ceiling, screwing his eyes shut. He felt so warm, he was afraid he might explode.

Hesitatently, he swung an arm over your shoulder, rubbing his thumb in little circles on your skin.

His ministrations made you sigh, burying your head closer to his chest.

Isagi's heart stilted.

Well, it was suffice to say he didn't pick up much from the movie.

At last, the end credits rolled in, and Isagi playfully poked your cheek from where you were laying on his chest.

At some point, you had ended up laying on his chest, legs tangling with his underneath the blanket Isagi had conjured.

Isagi was all muscles, but he was soft, too. His hands absentmindedly played with your dried locks, relishing in the way how your hair felt sliding against the skin of his hand.

You sighed, pressing your nose against his neck.

Now that the movie was over, you knew that you had stalled long enough. And besides, you really wanted to tell Isagi, your best friend. Your friend who had taken you in after ages of no contact, who didn't hesitate to take your side, and who, above all, always believed in you.

You sighed, pushing past the cloth in your throat, forcing yourself to confront the fear that had been plaguing you for a while.

"... am I... enough...?"

You murmured, barely above a whisper.

You felt Isagi's hand still for a second before continuing carding through your hair.

His voice was carefully neutral when he spoke next.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... uh... would I be enough just on my own?" Your voice cracked at the end, the only sign before tears slipped from your eyes.

"Hey, hey." Isagi sat up, forcing your teary eyes on his warm blue ones.

"Where is this coming from?" He gently took your hands in his, feeling his heart crack at your teary-eyed face. "Who said this to you? Was it--"

"It... it doesn't matter who said it." You turned your head, finding the intensity in his gaze unbearable.

Your avoidance of the matter was already an answer on itself.

That conniving bastard. Isagi's lips pursed together.

"Hey... look at me. Please." Isagi gently turned your head, until you interlocked eyes once more.

That did it.

It was like a dam overflowing. You couldn't contain the tears as they now cascaded down your face. Uncontrollably and unrelenting.

Isagi's eyes widened, instantly bringing you into a hug, hand patting your shoulder as you sniffed against his chest.

"I just... am I worth something? Tell me, please, Isagi." You pleaded. Isagi's heart thudded painfully against his chest as if a knife had been plunged into the organ.

Not enough? Not enough?!

"Oh, love. You're worth the world." Isagi murmured.

He then pulled away. You lamented the loss of his warmth before his thumb rubbed your cheek, wiping away the tears.

"But I--"

"Shh..." Isagi caressed your face with both his hands, his eyes looking straight into yours.

"Anyone who said, or implied you weren't worth the absolute best of the best, is clearly blind, mental, insane, or all of the above." Isagi spoke in a definite tone.

"You're an amazing, kind-hearted person. And anyone who has you should call themselves lucky. I certainly do." Isagi admissioned, a small smile growing on his lips.

You responded with a wobbly smile. But it was tinged heavily with guilt.

How were you deserving of such an amazing person like Isagi?

To think he'd still think so highly of you, even after the strain put on your relationship with him.

"Remember the time you and I went to the park and you saw those nest of kittens?" Isagi asked.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

"And remember how you wanted to adopt them all, and call them Alvin, Theodore, Simon, Brittany, Jeanette, and Eleanor?"

You let out a weak laugh at the fondness in his tone and the absurdity of the situation.

"It was because you were so obsessed with that show. Was the only thing you could talk about." Isagi mused.

To think he'd been jealous of some animated chipmunks.

...well, maybe he still was.

"I had to physically drag you away from the vet because your mother wouldn't have let you keep the kittens. You cried for days afterwards."

You shoved his shoulder slightly, eliciting a grin from Isagi.

"Or remember when you stood up for that guy who'd failed in PE? Everyone picked on him because he wasn't the strongest. But you believed in him and chose him for your team anyway. You ended up winning the competition."

"I... yeah. I remember that."

"Oh, oh! And do you remember the time I fell ill during training and you skipped out on school for four days straight to take care of me?"

Well, how could you forget? Isagi had this competitive streak, one that ran so deep that he'd endanger himself, with absolutely no regard to his safety. He was a safety hazard for anyone on the pitch and for himself.

"So, you know. You kind of are the most kind, amazing, thoughtful, caring person. Should I go on?" Isagi chuckled.

Your eyes softened, his words warming you from the inside out.

"So, please. Don't tell me you're worth nothing. Don't tell me you're not enough." Isagi murmured, his voice cracking, and his vision blurring.

"Because you are. You change lives and make people feel heard, make them want to be better. Not living with you is like living with a hole in your chest."

Isagi took your hand, putting it on his chest.

You felt the rhythmic beating of his heart against your hand.

"See? My heart's beating, just for you." Always has been. Was what he didn't say.

You looked up, meeting Isagi's sincere gaze.

You felt trapped within the confinement of his iridescent irises, unable to look away.

It made your neck feel warm.

From embarrassment, of course.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Isagi softly inquired.

His tone pleading, his fingers reassuring.

And well, how could you ever say no to him?

So you began speaking.

By the end of your story, Isagi was positively fuming.

"He did what?!" His voice was low, dangerously so. His jaw was tensing, and his hands were balled into fists.

"So... wait. Hold up. He told you to wait at home and then went on and cheated with another girl, and then blamed it on you for not being good enough for him to stay?!"

That... actually summed it all up.

At your telling silence, Isagi abruptly sat up, the blanket falling off his lap.

"Wah-- Isagi, what are you doing?" You said, startled.

"I'm going to fucking kill him."

Your eyes widened, rapidly, you stood up.

"No, no, wait! Don't do that, please. I...I don't want to get anyone hurt."

Isagi turned on you, his gaze thundering and fierce. "It's either him hurt or you. And between those options, my choice is easily made." Isagi declared, determined.

"But..."

"I should have never left you with that vile crap. He was bad news from the start." Isagi spat. "He..." Isagi choked. "He can't get away with this. Hurting the person I lo--my friend."

Isagi was wound up. Shoulders stiff and gaze blatantly murderous. He looked like he could take devour the world and still be hungry.

But that would get him in trouble. Sweet, caring Isagi didn't deserve your boyfriend's wrath.

You stepped closer, taking his hand in yours. "Please. Don't do it. Stay."

At your touch, the tension bled a little out of Isagi's posture, but he bit his lip, torn. His eyes were searching yours, for what, he himself didn't know either.

"But... Y/n..." Isagi looked tormented, eyes screwed shut and lips slanted in a frown.

"Please. Yoichi." At his given name, Isagi stilled.

Making use of his momentary shock, you took both of his hands in yours, unwavering underneath his wild gaze, because you knew that Isagi would never raise a hand against you.

A conflicted expression flitted through his eyes before he finally relented.

"Okay... but you can't go back there!" His eyes were wide, fingers desperately clinging to yours, as if you might just slip away from him.

He'd let you get away once, but over his dead body he would let it happen twice.

"I won't." You quietly reassured him. "I'm where I want to be."

And as you brought Isagi into a hug, feeling him melt against you as he pushed his nose into your shoulder, feeling warmth wash over you and your heart racing for the boy who'd always stood by your side, for the boy with the sparkling eyes and the geeky passion for football, you felt at home.

The home that you had lost, but the home that had always been waiting for you.

But as Isagi sighed into your neck, his hair tickling your cheek, you wondered maybe, just maybe.

If home had never been lost. But always been there, by your side.

Just like Yoichi had always been.

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: fluff with simon riley, cigarettes, reader smoking, bad tasting kissy.

"Wann' see your face.." the air was humid; sticky. There was no use being on the bed, where the mattress creaked and the sheets got filthy. No - the floor would suffice. It's cold tile pressing against your knees and legs, parting slightly to allow the meaty thigh of Simon to take place. The scene sounded more intimate than what it really was. Truthfully the two of you (mostly him) really craved a midnight cigarette without the bitching of your captain. You were wrapped up in your cotton jammies, a big shirt and shorts that hung off you. Simon coughed softly, puffs of smoke leaving his mouth a bit. So he was surprised. He tilted his head backward and exhaled. The moment went on in silence, just like that, until your greedy paws reached out for another grab at the smoldering stick "Can smoke just fine through the mask."

"Yeah, but I can't see you 'just fine' through the mask." You hissed softly through an inhale, letting the smoke leave before coughing a bit, it tasted quite shit. You always wondered why he liked that junk. Simon chuckled, snatching the cigarette back and holding it away from you. "If, you can't handle it, stop doing it." You rolled your eyes at his words, plopping backward toward the pillows that were sprawled on the floor. Your eyes fluttering shut and watching the stars through the window. Simon sat up, blowing the smoke outward through the smallest creeping crack. It was like a stop motion film, each shut of your eyes showed him slowly lifting the mask, just past the tip of his nose.

"Oh.." You mused, moving to sit up, but he quickly sent you back down with his socked foot to your shoulder. "Oh ew." Simon laughed softly, you could see his teeth now. His stubbly chin. Dirty blonde. And his lips were scarred, chapped too. "I can feel yer eyes on me, judgin'"

"M'not judgin'.. Just curious. I've never see you before, and I've seen the others..." Trailing off a bit you let your head tilt backward again, facing the ceiling. Simon was quiet, aside from his little huffs and sighs. "So..why do you hide your face, anyways?" Simon growled a bit, not intentionally, just a noise that emitted when he though too deeply. "Just the way things are. Like..grass is green, sky is blue."

"Bullshit, the grass here is brown." The two of you giggled at your words, only going silent when you heard foot steps walking down the hall. Simon quickly put out the cigarette, a towel at the bottom of the door, preventing any of the smoke scent seeping through. After a few moments the feet move passed, letting the two of you release a breath.

"Mm, I dunno why we worried so much. Cap'n can't smell shit." You giggled again. Simon rewarded you with a doting flick to your forehead. You hissed softly at him but he shushed you with a kiss. His body moving to lie next to you, only slightly hovering. He tasted bad - like cigarette, and a bit of mint. You softly gasped in realization, hitting his shoulder, "So you did eat my mints?"

Simon laughed again, tugging his mask down while you lightly sparred his arm for revenge.

[kitkatscabinet]

Whumptober 02 - Blood loss

John Mactavish x f! reader

The metallic stench of blood filled the air, soaking into your nasal passages and staining your tongue. It’s cold, the dampness of the cement wall you’d propped yourself against soaking into the back of your vest and shirt. Your wheezing breaths the only sound present in the dark hallway you’d stumbled into. The radio attached to you crackles but you already know it won’t work. The spray of bullets you hadn’t managed to avoid having rendered the damn thing inoperable.

Another rattling cough shakes your frame, your torso lighting up in pain as your injuries were forcefully jostled. Throwing your head back against the wall you glared at the ceiling, trying to prevent the tears from overflowing. Tears of pain accumulate as you forcefully press down against the bloody hole in your right collarbone. Gritted teeth prevented you from crying out but it was a close thing. It was becoming harder and harder to retain consciousness but you were stubborn. Someone would come for you, you just had to hold on until then.

At some point, you must have closed your eyes because the next thing you knew there was a frantic voice pulling you awake. Blinking, you're greeted with the furrowed brows and concerned blue eyes of your Scottish teammate.

"Soap?" your confusion is blatantly apparent, eyes squinting as you blink sweat and black spots away.

“Aye lass, there’s my good girl. Keep those beautiful eyes open for me, okay?” As much as he's trying to hide his concern, you aren't so far gone that you don't notice the waver in his voice or his mechanical movements. Any wisecrack you had in reply to his flirtation dies on your tongue as he presses down on your wound. You're unable to stop the pained cry his actions draw from your lips, tears sliding down your cheeks in earnest.

“I know it hurts, I’m sorry, it’ll be over soon.” You know he's trying to reassure you, but you honestly think his words are more to comfort himself.

"It'll be over 'cause I'm dead." You wheezed humorlessly, frantically blinking the sweat from your eyes. Soap seems to find your remark as funny as a funeral as he practically snarls at you.

"You're not dying on me. That's an order, you hear?" Despite the blood that has started to coat the inside of your throat, your mouth runs dry at his sudden ferocity. Too stunned to do anything but let yourself be manhandled into standing, Soap practically holding up your entire weight.

“Order me? We’re the same rank dickhead” you snorted, instantly regretting the motion as pain lit up your nerves like fireworks. Your knees buckled briefly, but Soap was a solid wall of muscle that kept you upright.

It's a slow and rough process, with Soap having to practically drag you from the building towards the extraction point.

Maybe it's the delirium brought on by blood loss, or it's the looming reality of your imminent demise but just before you make it to the medics your mouth slips.

“You know, it's usually a lot more fun in my dreams when we're this close.” His eyes burn holes into the side of your face, jaw slackened in your peripheral vision as his grip slackened slightly and you tipped forward for a few seconds. Laughter burns in your chest, as you lose the last of your strength to look into his pretty eyes one last time, the three words you'd been aching to say for months tumbling forth as your breath slowed.

Eyes shuttering closed and body lurching, you don't notice Soap lunge to catch you. Holding you close against his chest as he swore at you to wake up.

That he'd say it back if you listened.

His hands clutched your face, marring your skin with your own blood as his tears painted your brow. "Please lass, wake up so I can say it back" he begged, burying his face into the skin of your still warm neck.

[sicktember]

Sicktember 2023 Prompt-Based Resources to Help You Get Started! 💚

Types of Self Care

everydayhealth.com (comprehensive overview)

mhanational.org (Mental health recovery self-care)

recreation.ku.edu (7 pillars of self-care)

How the Immune System Works

Youtube (basic explanation)

my.clevelandclinic.org (comprehensive overview)

Ways to Avoid Getting Sick

intermountainhealthcare.org (basic prevention)

health.harvard.edu (boosting your immune system)

Fevers

texaschildrens.org (myths and facts)

merkmanuals.com (fevers in adults)

kidshealth.org (fevers in children)

White Coat Syndrome

healthline.com (white coat hypertension)

wellnesscounselingmilwaukee.com (fear of doctors)

Old Wives Tales

premierhealth.com (colds, fevers, and the flu)

womanshealthmag.com (old wives tales that work)

Anxious Stomach

adaa.org (causes of stomach pain and calming techniques)

psychcentral.com (anxiety and vomiting)

themighty.com (blog post: vomiting during a panic attack)

Cramping Pain

my.clevelandclinic.org (abdominal)

mayoclinic.org (muscle)

reumatology.org (growing pains)

Terms of Endearment

fluentinthreemonths.com (nicknames by language)

joincake.com (nicknames by relationship)

mypetname.com (cute/funny nicknames by relationship)

Coughing

truecare.org (types of coughs)

coughpro.com (types of coughs- more detail)

foundation.chestnet.org (about coughing)

Sneezing

healthline.com (comprehensive overview)

expedia.ca (worldwide responses to sneezing)

inpactgrouphr.com (worldwide sneeze onomatopoeia and responses)

Confusion/Disorientation

healthdirect.gov.au (comprehensive overview)

nhs.uk (sudden onset)

Conjunctivitis/Eye Infection

health.maryland.gov (PDF 'pink eye' fact sheet)

demi.org (types of conjunctivitis)

aao.org (how to apply eyedrops w/ an alt method for anxiety)

Uncooperative Patient

seniordirectory.com (written for seniors but very good advice)

kidcarepediatrics.com (giving meds to an uncooperative child)

hpclive.com (tips for handling an angry patient)

side effects/adverse reactions

fda.gov (finding and learning about medication side effects)

mhaus.org (adverse reactions to anesthesia)

buzzrx.com (5 types of meds w/ serious side-effects)

Patient Zero

cdc.gov (monitoring and tracking diseases)

contacttracing.ashm.org.au (how contact tracing works)

Hugs!

dignityhealth.org (four benefits)

somatechnology.com (how hugs affect humans)

Headaches

medicalnewstoday.com (11 types of headaches)

ninds.nih.gov (comprehensive overview)

[goodluckclove]

Ow Oof My Bones: Stocking a Home Pharmacy (A Guide)

Growing up my mom had a drawer she called “the pharmacy”. It was like a more buffed out first aid kit where we kept odds and ends for most forms of sickness and injury. I don’t know if this is a universal standard for all households, but it should be. Even from a practical standpoint, if you have a killer migraine, muscle pain, nausea, or even just a headache – the last thing you’ll want to do is stagger into a drug store.

I have been in that position a few times living on my own, and it sucks. Navigating a pharmacy is confusing enough without the added debuff of some kind of physical illness or disorientation. It can be costly to buy everything you might need all at once.

If I were to outline my own baseline for an at-home pharmacy, it would be the following:

Cough syrup (Day and Night)

Painkiller of some kind

Bandages (Varying sizes)

Alcohol pads (For cleaning certain medical equipment and wounds)

Ice pack/Heat Pack (Easy to DIY)

Antacids (For indigestion, nausea, and acid reflux)

Thermometer (Forehead is fairly accurate if you can’t do oral or ear)

That’s a reasonably sparse collection of supplies that I think can treat a variety of things. This guide is going to break down the specifics of these things and more, give some alternatives that can help you save money and tips to prevent you from hurting yourself in an effort to ease a symptom. Before we start, though, I need to address something you might be thinking if you’re anything like my wife.

Clove, cold medicine doesn’t actually cure the common cold. It just cures symptoms! So what’s the point?

Hey. I’m going to be kind here, but I’m also going to take your head in between both hands and hold it tightly in place. I’m aware something like DayQuil doesn’t cure the common cold. Rest helps though, doesn’t it? And it’s kind of hard to rest when you’re constantly leaking and coughing and sniffling, isn’t it? So you’re should probably take the medicine, my darling wife.

Okay. I'm getting distracted. Let’s get into it.

Choosing a Cold Medicine

Take one look at the shelf in the cold and flu section of your local drug store, and you’ll be hit with a variety of brands and chemicals. Some are familiar brands and some are generic. Different products have different claims. Where the fuck do you even start?

Do you have allergy-like symptoms? Itchy and irritated eyes, sneezing and coughing, nasal congestion, or some terrifying combination of any of the above? You want an antihistamine, or something that contains an antihistamine. Be aware that some antihistamines will cause brief fatigue. If that’s an issue, look for something that says non-drowsy.

Are you a little cough-guy (gender-neutral) that won’t stop coughing? You want a cough-suppressant, likely one with an active ingredient of dextromethorphan. Be wary: cough suppressants vary in effectiveness.

Specifically congested? Try a decongestant, or something that contains a decongestant! I would personally avoid nasal sprays like Afrin, as they’re weirdly addictive and can actually make inflammation worse if overused. If congestion is your main issue, consider relying more on humidity and maybe saline washes. Although saline washes suck in my personal opinion.

Are YOU the Goo Man with mucus All Up In There? An Expectorant can help loosen mucus and clear your airways. Look for something with an active ingredient of guaifenesin.

EVERYTHING HURTS HELP. Oh god get a pain reliever dude. They’re also called analgesics, and can include acetaminophen, ibuprofen, or Naproxen.

Cold medicines will often contain a mixture of the fancy science names listed above. If you’re looking to save money, you can compare the ingredients in a brand-name medicine with it’s generic equivalent.

Goo or Capsule?

Honestly, the difference is sort of negligible. Liquid absorbs slightly faster, and sometimes I don’t feel like swallowing a horse pill. You might feel differently though.

Important Note: Follow the instructions on the bottle. I’m not being a bootlicker for Big Pharma here. A regular amount of Tylenol can help with a headache. Get weird with and you’re riding the express train to liver failure.

What’s the deal with Painkillers?

I know man. Here’s the deal. With over-the-counter (or OTC) medicine, you’re mainly going to find ibuprofen (Advil) and acetaminophen (Tylenol). Both can provide relief for pain and even reduce a fever, but ibuprofen can also reduce inflammation. Naproxen (Aleve) is a stronger anti-inflammatory than ibuprofen, but usually requires a prescription.

Pain Cocktails for Special Occasions

There are some pain relievers you might notice I haven’t mentioned yet. That’s mainly because if you take a medication like Excedrin or Midol, you’ll find they’re actually a combination of many things I already listed.

Excedrin, for instance depends on acetaminophen, aspirin, and caffeine. A small amount of caffeine can actually help a lot with certain headaches!

*A Note on Burns*

If you have get a scald or burn of some kind, avoid treating with direct cold. Ice and cold water will actually increase the chance of blistering. The best way to treat a new, minor burn is to immediately hold it under cool or lukewarm running water for around ten minutes (Or at least until it stops hurting). After that consider taking an anti-inflammatory painkiller, and applying something like aloe vera or petroleum jelly before covering it with a bandage.

Other Ways to Treat Pain

DIY Cold Pack: Cold treatment can be very useful for acute pain and recent injuries. If you don’t have access to a dedicated ice pack, you can make a reusable gel pack by using 2 cups of water, 1 cup rubbing alcohol, and a dash of dish soap in a secure zip-top bag. You can also just use a bag of veggies from the freezer or wrap a bag of ice in a few paper towels.

DIY Heat Pack: Heat is very soothing for relief from chronic and muscular pain. If you don’t have a heat pad or access to a hot bath, you can make a reusable heat pad by filling a clean sock with uncooked rice or oatmeal and sealing the end. Microwave it at no more than a minute at a time, testing it until it’s at a good temperature.

IMPORTANT: For heat and cold packs, avoid treating the area for more than 20 minutes at a time, or you run the risk of heat or cold burn.

Cannabinoids: How to Tell Them Apart

This isn’t where I explain why it’s worth keeping a pack of edibles in your pharmacy. There’s definite medicinal benefits to THC, but I’m going to let you decide for yourself if that’s something you want to keep on hand. For this section I’m specifically focusing on cannabinoids other than THC. A lot of grocery stores (Especially hippy-ish stores) carry these now, and certain cities have dedicated dispensaries that carry non-psychoactive hemp products.

I do add that you might want to consider your own judgment here. Some people benefit from having these on hand, some don’t. If you have no experience with cannabis, these are essentially the parts of weed that – on their own – don’t get you high. But the long-term effects haven’t really been studied, regulations can be iffy, and they can definitely interfere with other medications. I’m really only including this for people to be able to have an awareness of what they’re evidenced to do.

You can buy them on your own – but keep in mind that you can also buy vitamins on your own, and you might not actually need those either. I highly suggest talking to your doctor before adding more stuff like that into your body.

Below are the basics of the main cannabanoids I’ve come across.

CBD: Mainly helps with stress and anxiety.

CBG: More focused on pain and inflammation.

CBN: Sleep aid and sedative.

All three of these have been found in some to help with nausea and inflammation.

Other Sickness Remedies

I think a lot of home remedies for sickness are pretty useful, even if it's just for the comfort they can provide. Plus, a lot of cures that don’t seem medically accurate do have traits of medicinal things. That bowl of hot soup can relieve inflammation and clear sinuses. Ginger ale can help with nausea – but you’ll want to make sure you pick one with actual ginger in it. If you’re nauseous, a carbonated drink with low or no sugar content can be very helpful.

You may have seen or heard of Theraflu. Is it useful? Sort of! Look at the ingredients and you’ll see a lot of the medicines I’ve listed above. It has to be made hot – at least while the powder dissolves – and some find it can aid in sore throats, coughs, fevers and body aches. It might have side effects though.

Emergen-C and Airborne are also hotly contested remedies. I’ll straight up say Airbone has gotten into legal troubles for their effectiveness claims. Emergen-C is debatably more useful, because it can help a lot of people to raise their Vitamin C and Zinc levels – but a blood test will tell you if that’s actually something you need. You don’t want too much Vitamin C in your system, especially if you take stimulants. And if you need more, it’ll likely be cheaper coming from a vitamin.

Vapor Rub has been used in a variety of ways. Some grew up having the goo rubbed under their nose as a decongestant – which technically works, but mainly thorough tricking the brain. A solution is a solution, though. And I remember it mainly being used on me before I went to sleep, so I stand by it being useful in that case if feeling stuffed up will keep you awake. It is mainly used to provide temporary relief for muscle and joint pain, similar to Tiger’s Balm.

Homemade Humidifiers

A humidifier can help a lot for congestion. If you don't have a specific humidifier, there are two DIY options that I've tried myself to moderate success. Boiling a large pot of water can help for a smaller space. If you have an electric kettle, I've kept mine cycling with the lid open to fill an enclosed room. The best I've found is also the weirdest. You fully dampen a towel and hang it over a chair, with one end dipped in a container of water. Then you leave a fan pointed at it. It sounds and looks crazy, but it works. 

Stock for What You Need

There are things at any pharmacy that you will likely never need. Over enough time you’ll collects bits of medicine for an issue you had once and never again. If you don’t wind up with a lingering cough every time you get a cold, you probably don’t need to stock up on cough medicine. If you aren’t in a constant battle with your toilet, you might not need to always have stool softeners or Pesto-Bismal on hand. The goal is to determine the type of pain you’re most likely to experience, and try and make sure you have something to take care of that oopsie when it happens.

If you require soup or chocolate when you're sick, see if you can keep some on hand. They're fairly shelf-stable. Sometimes I need a Little Treat when I'm upset. This is not a silly thing. This is what we do to stay alive.

Everything above are just things I’ve had to work out in my own personal experience. I’ve absolutely missed some things – both from being relatively able-bodied, and for my specific issues being niche enough that I don’t find them relevant for what’s supposed to be a fairly general overview. Hopefully with this you’ll be able to be a little more confident for the next time circumstances nerf you into a revere of pain.

So rest up as much as you can. Rest and water are pretty great across the board. Any of the Muppets movies aren't TECHNICALLY medicine, but they don't hurt either.

Do you have any additions to this guide? Add them below! I'd love to hear them!

Any requests you'd like to know for How to Human? Let me know! It's always good to learn, and no subject is too obvious!

[sleepingdeath-light]

preserving heat ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (01/05/23)

word count ; 1362

content ; threesome, stomach bulging, slim reader, double penetration

fandom ; cookie run

pairing ; milk cookie x male reader x purple yam cookie

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

You’d spent the better part of the evening huddled in your sleeping bag with your thickest blanket tucked up to your chin, too cold to do anything but fester in the pitiful “warmth” provided by your tent. Though the thin fabric barrier between yourself and the outside world did little to muffle the chattering of your teeth and your incessant shuffling about as you tried, in vain, to find a position that would provide you some minimal amount of additional heat to where you were a few seconds before.

It didn’t take long for these sounds to start grating on Purple Yam Cookie, the small amount of patience he still managed to cling onto being quickly eroded by your not-as-quiet-as-intended personal struggle against the elements. And, in order to prevent the other man from becoming either homicidal or suicidal, Milk Cookie popped his head in your tent and provided a solution that had your mouth falling agape and Purple Yam looking more startled than angry.

A threesome.

‘We,’ he gestured between himself and his barbarian partner, ‘are much, well, larger than you and give off way more body heat as a result. The close proximity and movement should warm you up and wear you out, meaning that you can get to sleep and you,’ he looked pointedly at Purple Yam Cookie, ‘don’t have to listen to him shuffling around anymore. It only makes sense,’

When he didn’t receive any response beyond silent, confused staring, he faltered and flushed. Much quieter and unsure of himself when he spoke up again.

‘Or we could find another solution, I suppose,’

‘I mean I’m fine with it,’ you managed, voice coming out in a higher pitch than intended, coughing into your fist before continuing, ‘but I don’t think we even have the right things to do it safely. Like we don’t even have lube -’

‘We do actually,’ Purple Yam interrupted, having finally found his voice, ‘bought it back in Hollyberry, thought it’d come in handy,’

‘Oh.’

‘Then we’re all up for it?’ Milk continued, smiling broadly when two confirmations followed, ‘Excellent! Now, I’ll go fetch the lubricant…’

And that’s when the most interesting fuck of your life started.

————

The position you found yourself in was compromising to say the very least: Milk Cookie was in front of you, large warm hands grasping at your thighs and helping you wrap them around his waist; Purple Yam Cookie was behind you, calloused and scarred hands playing with your nipples and pressing his broad chest against your back; you were sandwiched between them, one hand resting on Milk’s chest and the other reaching behind you to grasp at Purple Yam’s shoulder, steadying yourself as you adjusted to the feeling of being so filled. Of having two large, throbbing cocks stuffed into your ass, mercifully still as you gasped and whimpered and adjusted your position to help minimise the ache and strain of it all.

After a few minutes of these minor alterations, the pain had finally settled enough for you to be okay with them moving; a hum that sounded closer to a whimper and a nod that you were just about able to manage. Though, thankfully, that was all they needed.

The feeling of the two of them moving inside of you was strange to say the least. Pleasurable and enjoyable, sure, but it was far from coordinated or synchronised.

Milk Cookie was much more gentle and cautious in his movements, gradually pulling out until just the tip of his cock was inside of you before slowly pushing back in, only stopping when he was fully sheathed inside of you. Calculating enough to watch your expressions and gauge where your p-spot was in order to try and catch it with every thrust and smiling proudly every time you whimpered or moaned or dug your nails further into the pale skin of his chest.

Purple Yam Cookie, meanwhile, was much harsher in his treatment — fucking rather than loving, pounding rather than thrusting and just generally doing everything he could to make a mess of you. His calloused hands were groping at your stomach and chest, toying with your nipples as he relentlessly slammed his hips against yours — his pace shallow and quick and deliciously rough. So harsh that every collision had your body being sent crashing forwards into Milk Cookie’s chest and leaving you unable to do anything but cry out and cling to the two men you were trapped between.

Amongst all of the chaos, you found your eyes drifting between Milk Cookie’s focused expression and your stomach. Specifically, the prominent, twin bulges that moved and slid against each other in time with the thrusts of the two men inside of you — filling you so substantially that you could see them even from the outside for how big they were.

The thought made your head spin and your dick throb.

An ache that was compounded by the practically pornographic sounds that were escaping the men on either side of you: the bitten back grunts and moans that Milk Cookie was trying to muffle by biting his lips; the unrelenting, unabashed moans and grunts that were freely escaping Purple Yam Cookie; the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with the wet sloshing of the lubricant as they slid in and out of your needy asshole. It was all too much and yet, somehow, not enough.

The air was cold but by now you were boiling, inside and out. Veins heated by the white hot pleasure that was flowing through them like a rich liquor. The skin on your back on fire from the overwhelming body heat of the warrior that was pressed so tightly against you that you could feel his heartbeat thrumming against your shoulders — and trace the outline of every scar that was digging into your skin. Your lungs were burning, desperate for air as you continued to moan and whimper and groan and grunt despite yourself — overwhelmed by all of the pleasure you were experiencing.

Overwhelmed until you were given that final push in the form of a well timed brush of Milk Cookie’s pelvis against your neglected cock, and fell over the edge of climax. Falling with a mind filled with thoughts in the shapes of thick cocks and wandering hands, with their moans and grunts and groans echoing repeatedly — the erotic backdrop to your orgasm. Your heart was racing, your lungs were burning, your vision was filled with splotches and blurs of white light, and you were too far gone to do anything but moan and cry out and let out damn-near-incoherent pleas for more.

And it was your climax — and the sounds you made and the way you looked — that proved to be the undoing of the other two men.

Purple Yam came first: burying himself in you entirely and filling your ass with his cum as he finished with a startlingly loud cry of ‘fuck’. His grip, which had since moved down to your sides, became bruising and his head fell forwards to rest on top of yours — with you just about able to see his dreads falling over your shoulders in the corners of your eyes.

Then went Milk Cookie, who came with a final stuttering thrust and a whimper that sounded close to a prayed before his head fell back and his mouth fell open. Not bothering to pull out and just letting the mixture of his and Purple Yam’s seed slowly seep out of your hole — onto them and you and the floor.

The three of you stayed like that for a while, unmoving and just basking in the afterglow as you all collectively came down from your highs. Catching your breath, waiting for your trembling limbs to stabilise so you didn’t fall and revelling in the feeling of being full (or filling you) until their dicks were too soft and they were forced to pull out and help you lay back down.

You were exhausted and covered in a mixture of cum and sweat — but, as good as their word, they had helped you warm up. But, either way, you couldn’t find it in you to complain.

[ladyiristheenchantress]

Sick Day Magic

It may come as a shock to some that I am, in fact, a human being and not a 500 year old oak tree with internet access. /j

Being human, and actually being alive, means you will get sick! Exploring biology for my biomed degree has taught me a lot of things about virus's, bacteria, and how exactly they work! For example: All living things can be effected by virus's, they are nanometers big for that reason, and not much is known about their origins here on earth which is really cool! With that said, every living thing gets sick, and with that we can pair magic to help us through our sick days!

I know I am, simply because I am writing to you now while on sick leave from all 3 of my jobs. Currently the summer flu has hit our home really hard, so lets talk about recovery!

Obvious disclaimer before getting started: Doctors, medical professionals, and health organizations are here to help you. This post is not to discourage you from using modern medicine, or seeing a doctor when you need one. I actually am very much against using spiritual bypassing to discredit medical research, especially as someone who is entering the medical field. If you are sick it is always important to speak with your doctor before trying any holistic remedies, especially if you are on medications that can conflict with herbal supplements. Know the warning signs for when symptoms escalate. This post is mainly about illnesses that can be treated at home and go away within a couple days or weeks (cold, flu, etc)

Lets get started!

How do living things get sick?

To keep this as simple as possible, living beings get sick from small organisms in a couple different classifications. You have virus's, bacteria, fungi, or parasites, and they all have one goal: to use your body as a host! Some things cant reproduce on their own like virus's so they hijack your cells, some things feed off of you and your daily body functions like parasites! In all, we are exposed to all sorts of pathogens, and our body will react with the nasty symptoms like fevers, chills, coughing, vomiting, and more because your body is trying to fight off all the pathogens using your body to reproduce. There are some circumstances where medical intervention is required however, for things like the common cold, flu, and sore throat you can find remedies over the counter!

All living things get sick, including tree's, seals, and even grasses. These pathogens are really good at evolving with us!

What did people do historically?

Before the introduction of germ theory in the 1860's, and the introduction of modern medicine in the 19th century cultures all around the world were still evolving to combat common sicknesses! From medieval Europe using cupping and leaches which assisted in medical standards and theories, to indigenous tribes using the herbs around them to pave the way for medications, cultures all over the world had their own tips and tricks for staying healthy!

In general most cultures followed a 3 way system, prevention, coping, and resistance, where methods were followed to assist in times of sickness. Often times they had distinct prayers and rituals, and would combine it with local remedies and folklore to help the general population.

Later on, herbs would pave the way for medicine as scientists discovered exactly what about an herb could help someone and isolate it into a pill, salve, or tincture!

What is some illness prevention magic?

When getting vaccinated create a prayer or chant to not only take your mind off it, but also for a metaphysical boost

leave offerings to gods of health during cold and flu season by your front door, and leave offerings to spring gods during pollen season by windows

have fire tonic, elderberry syrup, and lions main mushroom tinctures prepared (reminder: always consult a doctor)

Keep crystals like jade, green aventurine, and carnelian by your bed for health

Keep fresh flowers in the home, as scents can represent healing

Visualize sickness being repelled away from you as you practice hygiene

keep sigils in your shoes to 'draw illness back to the earth'

Mundanely make sure you are also having regular checkups (if you cant afford to see a doctor regularly, see what option you have for free clinics, or public health options like medicaid in the US), going to see your dentist because the teeth has a lot to do with health, and practicing good health habits can all be really helpful with preventing illness

What is some illness coping magic?

When sick, keep lavender and chamomile under your pillow as a sleep aid

Contrary to popular belief: Don't burn incense when you have a stuffy nose because the smoke will irritate your nose, instead use a humidifier and optionally put essential oils in it for drainage

take healing spiritual showers

create soft broths, and plain foods using kitchen magic and infusing it with intentions

Optionally if you are having trouble eating because of vomiting or fever, enchant your water bottle with healing energy with even just a simple chant

Put cold or hot compress on pressure points, optionally while you rest research what those pressure points symbolize and how you can translate that into your healing rituals from bed

visualize a healing green or blue light enveloping places that may hurt like joints or the head

Listen to gentle music or healing subliminal during naps to draw out illnesses

enchant your tissue box so every tissue you use is one less you have to use later

create a salve using willow or birch bark, camphor, mint, and chamomile for a soothing joint pain relief

Enchant medications with chants or sigils on the bottle

Mundanely, we see a lot of spiritual hacks, don't put garlic in your nose (The only reason you think it works is because it irritates your nose lining creating mucus), don't use elderberry (It puts your immune system in over drive when you are already sick and actually hinders the healing process), its better to limit herbal and holistic approaches other than things that are rich in things your body needs like fruits, veggies, and electrolytes!

Recovery goes into this much like prevention, our bodies begin to process and understand the invaders making it less likely for you to get infected by the same problem again, however as mutations grow, make sure you are taking care of yourself!

Spiritually, your body is a temple, and its the only one you have, love it and it will love you back, take care of it and it will take care of you back. As a human being I recognize the struggle that concept can be. Its easy for someone to say "just sleep lmao" without having insomnia for example. In general, finding a routine that works for you, your body, and your mind is very important! You are a spiritual being, but you are also human! Don't let people try to sell you the idea that modern medicine is out trying to hurt you, because there are people out there like me who will stand for making the medical field a safer and better place! Don't let people try to sell you the idea that your sickness is because of "bad karma" or that your "low vibes" or something silly like that because the truth is, you get sick because you are alive. Cherish being alive in all of its forms.

Fair winds friends!

And remember, if you took nothing away from this I will say it again, Cherish being alive in all of its forms.

Tip Jar

[taradiddled]

Everyone on my dashboard, like me, has been sick, so I want to provide some tips for you that might help you through this cold/flu/whathaveyou (but, please please please, test yourself for Covid, even if you're pretty sure it's not Covid).

So my first tip is: wear layers. If you're home sick, wearing layers helps for if you feel overheated, chilly, so you can put on or remove more layers. I recommend a tank-top and lounge pants, and then a sweater and a robe on top. Stick those tootsies in socks, preferable the fluffy kind you can buy for $5 at Target or the local drug store.

My next tip: keep a water bottle nearby with lukewarm water. Don't put ice in it. Just regular water. You can put some electrolyte powder in it if you'd like (I usually use Pedialyte when I'm not feeling well), and maybe a couple ice cubes, but don't have it be chilled cold.

Gatorade or some sort of electrolyte drink is also an option. Just make sure you're replenishing those electrolytes on a regular basis.

Third tip: If you go out in public, wear a face mask. It's the polite thing to do. And when you start recovering from the illness, keep wearing the mask. You can take off the mask when you feel better, but seeing as more colds and flus are going around, I'd recommend wearing a mask in public (I certainly will be, since I work in a grocery store in the general public, who often cough and sneeze into open air).

Fourth tip: If you're having nausea, try a bit of lime in your water. Sparkling water, or ginger ale, with a bit of lime (and a side of saltines) usually helps my tummy when it's queasy.

Another option is something with mint. I especially like mint-flavored cough drops. They work for the throat, and help with the little bouts of nausea I get from all the phlegm drainage. Mint tea, mint drops...these typically do the trick. Just don't do too much mint if you're using something with artificial flavor like a syrup.

Fifth tip: If you're going to surf the net, don't use your phone. Try to limit as much attention to the small screen as you can, as it can encourage a headache. Keep any big web-surfing tasks to your computer. However, in the case of both your phone and the computer, turn the screen brightness down, so it's easier on your eyes.

Sixth tip: For those of us with chest and nasal congestion, Vicks is our friend! A little Vicks under the nose, on the throat, down the chest -- can do great things! Just don't put any on your lips or eyelids (don't ask). If you can get the Vicks roll-on, grab that! Works well and leaves no mess, while still providing that wonder Vicks vapor effect.

Seventh tip: If you're blowing your nose quite a bit, get some Vaseline to put on the outside of those nostrils. Put it on the skin there, to prevent chafing. If you can get those tissues with the lotion in them, that's highly recommended. But even if you get the tissue with the lotion in it, still put some Vaseline (or other softening lotion!) onto the skin outside your nostrils, to prevent excessive drying (and eventual flaking).

Eighth tip: Soup is your friend. It's your best friend. Soup with some starch like bread or crackers is advised. Abstain from heavy spices, although a mild curry can do wonders. Soup also helps with the throat, if your illness affects the throat, and helps warm the body up, especially if you're getting chills. Vegetables and beans are good ingredients, as you want to pay attention to keeping up your protein intake.

Ninth tip: Don't stay up too late when you're not feeling well. Get to bed a little earlier than usual, so your body can get that head-start on getting better. If you stay up too long, or don't get enough sleep, it'll be harder for your body to fight the illness.

Tenth tip: Be sure to have snacks. Avoid junk foods, or anything with too much grease. Snacks with peanut butter or a veggie dip are my usual go-to, with carrots, crackers, baby tomatoes, biscuits, nuts, steamed broccoli...

Eleventh tip: If you're listening to any audio (tv, music, computer...) then turn the volume down. Prevent any possible headache from happening or worsening. If you feel a ping in your head, like the sign of a headache maybe starting, find a way to distance yourself from loud noises. It might not be possible for you (it isn't for me in this house sometimes) but see if you can at least try. Lower the volume, go to a quieter location, do what you can to limit the noise. But even if you can achieve that quiet (or not), you should still take some aspirin, too.

Twelfth tip and then I'll let you be: A cool, damp washcloth to the brow can do wonders for that feverish feeling. Make sure it's not soaking wet -- just damp. You can also use an ice pack or a bag of ice, just make sure you wrap a towel around the ice first so that it's not freezing when you hold it against your brow.

If you're able to, you can ask your local drugstore if they have cooling gel sheets. These are typically in the children's section of drugstores, and are advertised as gel strips you can stick to a feverish child's brow, like a sticker. I've worn one while I was sleeping, actually, and because of the gel composition, even when I was tossing and turning, the strip didn't come off until I peeled it off in the morning.

[astrox]

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 / 𝟎𝟐

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

not proofread (too lazy)

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀

⇾ description of injuries and cause of death

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒

@sanemisfav

( previous chapter )

Your body couldn't move against the weight on top of you. You couldn't breathe, smoke clogged your lungs. You were drifting in and out of consciousness. The debris crushing your body kept you pinned as the fire roared above you. Only your hand could slip between the cracks and signal to anyone nearby that you were trapped, pleading for someone to rescue you. 

"Y/N!" 

Snatched up from the pile of rubble, you found yourself in the arms of your older brother. His appearance looked wild, his s/c skin covered in blood and ash. The state of his face frightened you the most. Often seen with a smile on his face, half of his face is burned to a crisp.

 "F-found you, Little Red," He muttered over the crack of the blaze. He carried your body like it was nothing and limped towards the exit whilst you coughed profusely. 

"B-brother...your face," You whimpered, reaching out to touch. 

"I'll be fine," He assured you, slipping off his pinky ring. The second your fingers graze your brother's wounds, he disappears after he slips his ring onto your right ring finger. Your vision is cloudy until you find yourself surrounded by more fire. 

Sometimes, you dreamt of the past. It's nothing more than a blur the more your memories slowly forget all that has happened. The fire. The town. Your Father, and Mother. Your brothers. It always ends the same, walking out of the flaming building untouched by its fiery grip and to the villagers' shock, you appear to have spawned from hell. 

"Monster! Murderer! Burn Her!"

"No no no! Stop it!" The tips of your fingers turned black, revealing the darkness hiding within you. Flaring images plagued your mind, preventing you from seeing what was real or fake. While everything continued to fall apart, the charred hands of your family emerged from the blaze and grabbed onto your body. 

"Brother help me!" You cried feeling your body being lifted off the ground. Against your wishes, the hands of your family begin to pull you back into the inferno. You fight, clawing at the flaking skin, grabbing hold of whatever your hands can reach and holding on tight. 

You needed to know why you were robbed of a family. Why you were the only one left alive? Everyone you know is leaving you behind and you won't be able to remember them. To mourn their deaths without memory is far worse than living in isolation. Without Winter, you'll forever be alone. Who's to say that when you leave this world who would be there to remember you?  

Awaken by a tongue licking your hand, you jumped seeing Winter standing beside your bed. You leaned up coated in cold sweat and examined your hands. Nothing covered your fingers and your brother's ring sat perfectly on your finger. Sighing in relief, you settled beneath your covers and felt your pup jump onto your mattress. Winter snuggling against your leg always comforted you at this times like these. It lets you know that you're not alone and you were grateful for it. 

Raising your right arm above your face, you looked over the ring. For some unknown reason, you've sensed something each time you stared at the ring. You don't what it was as the trouble has been bugging you since you possessed the ring. Then again, you were unable to remember most of your past. One nightmare after the other, the memories of your loved ones fade away. You don't want to forget. You just wanted to know the truth. 

A stinging sensation in your head forced out a hiss. It was happening again. Sitting up in a flash, you gripped the right side of your head, lamenting in pain. Quickly, you breathed in and slowly to ease the pulsing feeling, rubbing circles against your temple and where the pain stemmed from. You did this for a while until the pain subsided and you downed the glass of water sitting on your nightstand.

The first thing you did in the morning after every nightmare was write down all that you could remember in a journal. You wrote down about your brother's injury, the villagers, your fingers turning black, and your family's hands emerging from the fire. Everything you wrote over the years seemed out of place—like the pieces of a puzzle placed in the wrong spots. Then a thought.

"Little Red," You read after writing it down the page. "My brother called me little red," 

Ending your entry there, you looked around your bedroom before they land on your red hood, hanging on a coat rack. You walked over to the rack and took the hood along with some clothes to change into. 

For hours, you tended the wolfman in your old room. Concerns over a fever came to pass almost instantly. The warmth radiating from this stranger's body was merely his body temperature returning to normal, which was good news. You believed that he possessed healing factors that worked two times faster than humans. As always, you leave a plate of food beside his bed if he wakes up during the day. If the food hadn't been touched, you'd feed it to Winter or use it in your garden as compost. 

Every day, you grew cautious of the hunters searching around your area. Thanks to the trees and Winter distracting them, you'd sneak by during your herb gathering. However, as you'd watch them lay out the bear traps after you noticed a familiar face. The man you saw across the river. You've got a better look at his appearance. Short black hair, pale blue eyes with unusual pink coloured eyelashes. Your eyes spotted the tattoos on his forearms, marking him a criminal for life.

Situated on the root of a tree was another man, tall, young, with long platinum blonde hair and rainbow-coloured eyes. The man eyes the black-haired man, then laughs. "Hey, Akaza! Did you know the saliva of a wolf has antiseptic properties? I wonder if that works for hybrids. If wonder if humans can do that too," 

"Would you shut the hell up Douma and help me with these traps," Akaza demands, hiding a set trap under some leaves. He reached around for another before he starts moving to another spot.

"Imagine the hybrid we're looking for trying to lick its wounds, but it can't reach!" The man laughs. Despite Akaza's annoyed snarks, Douma continues to test his partner's patients without giving him a hand at laying down bear traps. Instead, he plays around with the fans he kept hanging on his belt. 

"It's a shame that Kokushibou couldn't join us. He's a better conversationalist after all." Douma frowned, slumping against a tree trunk. Akaza rolled his eyes, separating the bear trap by its teeth. "And too bad, we couldn't keep the money we made from Yahaba's armour. I need new clothes that go well with my fans. Blue, black maybe re-"

"Just shut up already!" 

Not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself, you sneaked away and pulled your hood over your head. You spoke. "I need to be more careful coming this way,"

You returned to that spot late at night, tossing a stick to trigger any bear traps. Startled by a few sprouting out of their hiding places, you jumped back. The chain reactor rather quickly, causing you to sigh in relief before you retreated. Meanwhile, back at your cottage, another suffers from his own nightmares. A little boy standing in the dark, scared and alone. This boy fidgets with his fingers before his lips part and calls out a name.

"Nemi!"

© 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎 — all works belong to astrox! do not plagiarize, recommend, or translate my work without my permission