#best cure for upper back pain

[b-curelaser]

Upper back pain can be both debilitating and distressing, affecting your daily life and overall well-being. While there are various treatments available, one promising option is cold laser therapy. In this comprehensive guide, we will walk you through the process of choosing the best cold laser device for upper back pain relief.

#b-cure laser upper back pain #back pain treatment #Benefits of Laser Therapy #best cure for upper back pain #cold laser therapy device #laser treatment for back pain

[shirefantasies]

LoTR Characters' Favorite Body Part of Yours

This sounds dirtier than it is, I swear 😂

Aragorn

He shows much love to your hips as moons pass over your relationship. Securely holding them as he protects you, running a hand over the curve of them as you lie side by side. They are truly beautiful to him as well as being a place of natural connection; he adores when you pull him closer by the beat loops, colliding as you do into affection.

Legolas

Very specific, but he loves your cheekbones, the curves that outline your face whether they are sharp or soft. Perfect are they to trace along with kisses, the precious companions beneath your beautiful eyes. Legolas also loves to caress them with the back of his hand, silently admiring your beauty as he takes in every inch of your face. He needs not speak a word, his fond touch speaks volumes.

Boromir

Boromir loves your shoulders. He loves sneaking up behind you and placing kisses there or else just holding you by the shoulders to gain access to your neck or cheek. If you have long hair, the feeling of sweeping it off your shoulder is very romantic to him, especially if he can tuck it behind your ear to reveal your face, too. If you expose the skin of your upper back, it is certain you will soon find Boromir watching the ripple of your shoulder muscles as you move. When your activity is particularly strenuous you can expect him to offer a massage as well!

Gimli

Does your hair count as a body part? Because of course Gimli loves your hair! If it’s long, he’s going to be obsessed with braiding it, the feel of it flowing between his fingers and all the ways he can form it. He’s the best partner to someone with high-maintenance hair or a long care routine because he legitimately wants to learn the whole thing and take care of it for you, even if it means learning a lot. If you prefer to keep yours short, he may ask why and tease you a bit, but it also allows him more access to your beautiful face to grab for kisses and he can’t argue with that!

Frodo

Your eyes are his favorite by far. Windows to the soul as they say, your eyes betray the sincerity Frodo is always searching for and can consistently find there. He loves watching your lashes flutter as you read or look upon new sights with confusion, curiosity, whatever it be. The feeling of those lashes fluttering against his cheek as you nuzzle against him is enough to bring a smile to his face and a blush to his face. Eye contact is a must with Frodo as much as possible- it just feels so intimate and powerful to him in a way he hopes to be able to articulate with words.

Sam

Honestly? Your entire face! Sam’s pure love radiates at nearly every expression, whether he sees the light of joy illuminating your smile or the heartbreaking sight of pain he’ll do anything to cure. Being able to read your emotions is vital to empathetic Sam- his greatest desire is to know what you need from a single glance and be there with it as soon as he can! One of his favorite things to do it hold you gently, hands caressing your cheeks, and peer into your eyes before guiding you into a kiss.

Merry

There’s no good way to sugarcoat this- Merry’s an ass man hobbit. He can’t help stealing glances when he is granted the opportunity to admire the shape of it. Absolutely he is the type to give it a playful squeeze every now and again as he pulls you in for a kiss, too! No matter how you feel about it, no matter what shape you are in, he loves it and, if you are comfortable, that is, will pay you compliments about it when your attire is especially flattering.

Pippin

Trite as it may sound, Pippin loves your lips. He truly could kiss them all day if you let him, the incomprehensible joy he gets every time washing over his heart. Of course he also loves the sight of your lips curving into a smile when he gets a laugh out of you, the sly way they tease upward when you’ve formulated a particularly ridiculous pun. His habit is pulling you in to deepen almost any kiss you give him; you may have just leaned in for a peck, but you’ll get much more than you bargained for!

Faramir

Beloved are your hands to Faramir; his security, his gentle hold upon you and grounding connection. A squeeze to your hand is the perfect little reminder in his mind that he is here for you, present and at the ready to comfort you. The feeling of your intertwined fingers during the most intimate of moments is pure bliss to him, so much so that it never really comes as a surprise when you feel him reach for you.

Eomer

He loves your legs, the sight of them as you throw them over your saddle when the two of you take a sunlit ride, the peeps of skin he is granted when you tug up your garments to wade in the stream. The carefree way you lay them across his lap in your alone time, reading to him or singing together or just enjoying each other’s company by the fire. If you grant him leave to massage the stress from them, the feeling of muscle relaxing beneath his hands.

Haldir

There’s something infinitely alluring about your collarbones, the little nooks and hollows therein. Haldir can hardly keep his eyes off them, barely restrain himself from tracing them with his gaze whenever you dress in a way that exposes them. When your company is naught but the moonlight, it is a gift from above to ravish them with his lips, his gaze drifting back up to meet your eyes with a smile of deep satisfaction as he does so.

Eowyn

Eowyn loves your arms. The strength of them betrayed by the motions of muscles, the way they hold her, the unbreakable security of them. It's a bit of a habit of hers to run her hand up and down your arm as you stand side by side, sending little shivers of warmth along the skin. She also adores intertwining them as you walk, the both of you serving as each other's anchor to the earth's gifts of comfort. If you're able to lift her, give her a surprise by pulling her up when she holds your bicep!

Arwen

Your thighs, definitely. Some of Arwen’s favorite moments are spent laying with her head resting gently upon your lap, the plush of your thighs the perfect pillow. No matter the size she just loves them. When your kisses overflow with passion, it really sends her over the edge when you wrap your legs around her; her hands almost instantly go to your thighs.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr x reader #lotr imagines #the fellowship of the ring #aragorn #aragorn x reader #legolas #legolas x reader #boromir #boromir x reader #gimli #gimli x reader #frodo #frodo x reader #sam #sam x reader #merry #merry x reader #pippin #pippin x reader #faramir #faramir x reader #eomer #eomer x reader #haldir #haldir x reader #eowyn #eowyn x reader #arwen

[blues824]

🌹How about the uppermoons and muzan reacting to the female riddle Rosehearts.

❤️Imagine douma stumbleding up the qweens Palace seeing thinking its weerd not seeing wisteria but rosses and thinking this is going to be easy for him to kill and eat the female riddle but then gets effected by the rosses that he gets superised by.

🌹Then out of nowhere he gets collard after hearing the person yelling of with your head and then having multiple hashiras trying to kill him.

❤️How whoud muzan react to the new magical human and imagine non of the uppermoons being able to remove the collar and learning douma can't use his blood arts any more thx to the collar. (totally akaza not thinking he deserves it 💀)

🌹Imagine muzan learning that female riddle is under protection from the hashiras after curing Kagaya Ubuyashiki and her dating one of the hashiras or Kamado squad.

❤️How whoud the uppermoons react to muzan wanting this human to stay alive and that she could maby cure there weakness.

🌹Imagine just for chaos a overbolt happing if they ever capture her 💀

Preface: You are in a relationship with Tanjiro. The Queen’s Palace is the name of your medical facility/mansion. These aren’t romantic headcanons.

Muzan Kibutsuji

Once he heard about you curing Ubuyashiki, he is now searching for you. If you were able to lift this terrible curse then surely you must be able to help demons conquer the Sun. He ordered the Upper Moons to go after you and try to capture you alive so that you would be able to help them.

However, he also learned that you and the boy with the hanafuda earrings were courting each other. Now he definitely wanted to capture you just to hurt the demon slayer. Unfortunately, things didn’t go according to plan when some of his Upper Moons returned with collars around their necks. Not just that, but they told him how you infused a bunch of red roses with the same properties of wisteria flowers.

Since Muzan is immune to the effect of wisteria, he was easily able to capture you. He was much quicker than you were, so you never stood a chance. What he didn’t expect was for you to transform into a monster when you woke up. A liquid that looked like ink was spilling out of your mouth. He ordered all the demons that were present at the Infinity Castle to defeat you but keep you alive.

Douma

He was ordered by Muzan to go after you. What he didn’t expect was the roses being demon-repellent as well as you expecting him to come. You had collared him while the Kamado squad fought him alongside you. With your magical abilities, you were easily able to overpower him.

He considered this a victory because he discovered that you were romantically involved with the boy with hanafuda earrings. Not just that, but you also had a connection with Ubuyashiki. When he returned to the Infinity Castle, he relayed this information to his master.

When Muzan captured you, he was the one who had to defeat you but keep you alive. It was unfortunate that such a cute little thing like you had to go through something so painful, but how else were you supposed to learn that there was no chance of escape unless you helped them conquer the sun?

Akaza

He was also ordered by Muzan to go after you. However, he tried to strategize the best way to get to you. He could sense the potent magic of the roses, so he knew that just rushing in would not be the smartest decision. However, Douma got too excited and rushed in. He was collared immediately. Akaza looked up and saw you in the window.

When everyone returned to the Infinity Castle, Muzan was understandably angry. However, Akaza did have more information on you. Like the fact that the boy with hanafuda earrings was staying at your mansion. The master’s mood visibly brightened significantly.

Once Muzan did capture you and bring you back to the Castle, you overblotted once you realized where you were. Akaza was tasked with making sure that you brought no harm to yourself or any of the other demons. He admired you for your strength, and he thought you would make a great demon.

Daki

Unlike the others, she wasn’t ordered to capture you. She had another job that got Muzan a lot of money, so she was busy being an oiran. However, her brother told her about the mission that their master sent him on. She was jealous because Muzan seemed so hyper fixated on you.

She was intrigued to hear that you were harboring the boy with hanafuda earrings. Many of her comrades have died at his hands, and he was just out of reach. From the sounds of it, it also sounded like you loved each other. 

When Muzan brought you back and once your overblot was dealt with, she acted as your ‘friend’. Sure, you were tied up in a chair, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t braid your hair and rant to you about some of her customers. It’s a one-sided friendship, to say the least.

Gyutaro

He was in the capturing squad, sent to grab you and get back to the Castle. Unfortunately, things went a little haywire with the roses and the collars. Red had never been a significant part of his color palette, and he was able to see that with the shiny new collar he got.

Before his master had the chance to yell at everyone for failing to acquire you, Gyutaro told him of their newfound discoveries. For example, the boy with hanafuda was staying at your mansion and you were taking care of him. 

When Muzan did manage to capture you, Gyutaro did not want anything to do with you after the battle with your overblot. To him, you were a weak human. However, you did make his sister happy, so that counts for something in his book.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader #kny #muzan #muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan kibutsuji #muzan x reader #douma x reader #douma #akaza #akaza x reader #daki x reader #daki #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro

[iris-of-bliss]

𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝔸 𝕃𝕠𝕒𝕕 𝕆𝕗𝕗 [𝟙𝟠+]

Summary: Hwoarang deals with an irritating headache after his fight with Jin. Perhaps he could use a helping hand from you?

Pairing(s): Hwoarang/F!Reader

Warning(s): Smut, Foreplay, Teasing, Creampie, Fingering

Word Count: 1.5k

Hwoarang made his choice to match Jin for an upcoming tournament. This time, Kazama gained the upper hand through every round. They were at Yakushima with you and Xiaoyu watching over their every move. Although Hwoa has been a bit sloppy, you rooted for him regardless. Xiaoyu has done the same as Jin, who performed well on his part. It was a heated duel, just like last time. Both fighters still had a decent fight, showing off their skills and capabilities. After the match was over, you and Ling applauded them while approaching. The men pat down some of the dirt from their clothes. Hwoarang looked rather irritated, but your presence makes him feel a lot better.

“You did a good job today, boys!” you congratulated the fighters.

Xiaoyu followed, “Yeah, you two were great! So, we will meet up again next week, yes?”

Hwoarang sighed, “Sure, we gotta get back home. I’m starting to get a pounding headache.”

You and Ling exchange goodbyes as you follow your boyfriends. You could hear Ling catch up to Jin before bringing up a discussion about eating steamed buns. Hwoa was rubbing the back of his neck with his head hung low. It seems like he needed some rest. Maybe Jin went a little too rough? You place a hand on his back and question his state, “Are you feeling alright, babe? You don’t look too good.”

“Of course not. Must have caught a fever during the fight,” he insinuated, “Hop on so I can lay down when we get home.”

—

“Alright, Hwoarang. I’ve prepared an ice pack for you.”

Approaching the worn-out and shirtless Hwoarang, you place the pack against his forehead. He immediately grabs your hand to press the cooling bag against the aching pain. A relieved sigh slips from his mouth. His eyes open to see you while giving a small smirk.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he responds softly, “You got other ways to cure my headache besides a pack of ice?”

“Well, I can serve some soup if you want,” you came up with the best answer you could.

A chuckle emitted out of Hwoarang, “Oh, babydoll, I wasn’t talking about that kind of cure. I was wondering about the pleasurable variety.”

“Oh?”

Your eyes widen with a faded blush across your face. He swiftly grabs you by the wrist to get on top. You sit up facing Hwoa, his smirk widening more feverishly. He didn’t seem motivated to sleep. Just seeing you was enough for him. His hands trail over your hips before firmly squeezing them.

“H-Hwoarang?,” you hesitated, “What are you even scheming?”

“You know what this is, (Y/N). It’ll be worth it.”

You suddenly feel the redhead thrust his erection against your crotch. Gasping from the tease, you latch his wrists, still gripping your flesh as he continues to give a few more shots. He’s a quick thinker and knew about your weaknesses in bed before. It was impossible to hold back from keeping up with his rhythmic movements. Hwoa smirks and places the ice pack on the bed stand. He then pulls you down to hold you close while returning the favor. You can still smell his sweat from the match. Even when you convinced him to shower, he refused due to his headache. Without thinking, Hwoarang turns you over to the bed on your back, another surprised gasp escaping your lips. He now towers above you before leaning down your jaw to kiss. You already missed the dry rubbing between your thighs, so you end up doing the work yourself. The wet spot grew warmer as you wrapped your hands around his neck, the sweet sound of your moans teasing Hwoa’s ear. He groans against your skin and grabs your hips again, lifting them upward.

“You gonna be a good girl for me, baby?” the redhead whispers.

As you begin to feel your face heat up, you quickly nod, “Yes. Anything for you.”

He chuckles, “Now how about that?”

Hwoarang brings a hand between your thighs to rub your dampness. You allow him to keep you wet and close your legs around his working hand. You grab his face and share a hungry French kiss together. During the kiss, Hwoarang’s hand unzips your pants before sliding down further under your panties. It causes your voice to shiver at the touch. A pair of fingers gently tease your folds. They inch in to rub your walls before pulling away for your folds again. He loved listening to your frantic whimpers. Luckily for him, there was more to come.

Hwoa hums, “So, you’re ready to take me?”

“Please, do it!” you plead.

Hwoarang sighs and removes his pants to spring his erection out. He even lent a hand, taking off yours, too. Each cloth left your body as he slid them away. After the pieces of clothing were tossed aside, you immediately felt his cock rest over your entrance. He grinds into you all the while kissing your cheek. The stream of slickness coats underneath him as he kept going. You can even feel yourself getting hot from being close to your boyfriend.

“Heh, I feel big, don’t I?” he teases.

You were in the middle of mewling, so of course he didn’t need an answer when it was right there. He aligns himself and presses into your entrance, settling between your legs. The more you got filled up, the louder your cries became. Hwoa bites his lip after noticing how tight you were. From his perspective, this felt perfect.

“Better hold on tight, sweetheart.”

A few seconds after being completely filled, Hwoarang’s thrusting starts rough and hard. He claws at your shaking hips while exchanging kisses with you. Your breaths were already hot from the intensity. The kissing got sloppy due to your boyfriend’s wild pounding. As he did so, he smacked the side of your rear and gave you a gentle squeeze. Your fingers scratched into his shoulders, yet this did not lead him to flinch in the slightest. Both of you were overcome by the heat inside and out. Hwoarang lifted himself up as he kept up with his thrusts. Looking down at you, he grins at the exhausted state you are in. What a sight to see.

“Like what you see?” he teases.

Your words were struggling to piece themselves together, “Y-yeah. Please, more- oh!”

He emits a chuckle at your reply. You felt a knot form in your stomach. It was such a pleasing view, Hwoarang couldn’t resist while kneading your skin. It bothered him that you were still in your shirt, so he slowed down to pull that off as well. Leaving you in your bra was just enough. He bends down to kiss you, all the while sneaking his fingers under your bra, finding their way to your nipples. The redhead scratches your pebbled skin. You moan in his mouth, your body arching up to him. Though your eyes remain shut, you trail your hands to his hair to undo his bun. The rest of his red strands drape down in the process. Fuck, he looked so hot. You take a handful of his hair and comb through it. Your legs wrap around his torso for him to go deeper. Hwoarang pulls his hands away to embrace you. He groaned due to his hair being messed with.

Hwoa keeps fucking you harder, close into attempting to bottom you out. He breaks the kiss with a string of saliva falling off. Panting for air, he tries his best to speak, “Do I feel good? Huh?”

You were trying to catch your breath, “Y-Yes, so good…”

You move some of his strands to the back of his ear for a better view. He takes your wrist in order to place a kiss on your hand. The both of you embrace each other again, the session continuing on. Hwoarang starts kissing and biting your jaw, urging you to give him access to your neck. You grant his wish before he abuses your weak spot. He managed to earn plenty of moans, and they drove him wild. The tightening of your walls around his cock. He growls in your flesh like an animal, almost reaching his climax. After giving a rough hickey on your neck, he rests his forehead along yours to lock eyes. Breaths arose while you two were about to release. Your cunt flutters when you stare into his brown eyes. Everything about Hwoarang was perfect to you.

“Hwoarang, I love you! I-“

The sentence was cut off by the sudden finish, loud cries erupting from pure pleasure. Hwoa’s cum spurts out after you are quickly filled. He didn’t care much, though. Overfilling you would eventually satisfy him more. As you finally settle down, you kiss your boyfriend once more. The fatigued redhead pulls out and collapses on his stomach beside you. He brings you close by your torso, careless to move around any longer. You hold onto his arm before looking back at his smirking face.

“Thanks to you, my head isn’t pounding any more,” he chuckles at you.

You hummed, “If that’s the case, maybe we could try that method next time? Whenever it comes back, of course.”

“Heh, good girl.”

He plants a kiss on your head as you sigh yourself to sleep. From now on, Hwoarang has a favorite cure he can make use of next time. That sneaky tease he is.

#tekken #tekken hwoarang #hwoarang #hwoarang x reader #fanfic #blissfic #n/sfw

[kleenex-tissues]

Yours Truly (21)

Read on AO3 here

Ch. 21 - Stop the Clock

“Do you Parisian heroes make a habit of getting impaled, or is that just you?”

Marinette wanted to go back to sleep, but a burning pain in her leg and throat kept her mind from drifting off. She almost hadn’t heard the sly remark above her because of it. Almost. Most of her nervous system was currently failing her, but she managed to groan out, “No’ usually, bu’ firs’ for every’fing.”

She was met with a chuckle, and she tried smiling back. She wasn’t sure if she succeeded. Her eyes fluttered open to a blurry world, a black and blue blob staring down at her, and she wondered if this was a pain-induced hallucination. At least the voice speaking to her was nice. Maybe it was an angel?

“Ladybug, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Adrien?  No, probably Chat Noir. Not that that distinction mattered anymore. It had only been a matter of time until she found out his identity. If not on the field, she would have had to know as Guardian eventually anyway. She just wished it could have been under better circumstances.

When Marinette tried to mumble his name back at him, he quieted her. “No, don’t talk! You’re really hurt right now, and you have to stay as still as possible.”

Staying still sounded nice. She could do that.

“Listen, I know Tikki is slowing the blood loss, but I need her. Someone has to cleanse the akuma and use the miraculous cure. I'll give you Plagg. We just have to do this quickly.” He was stumbling over his words in his panic. “I’m so sorry I let this happen, M’Lady.”

In any other circumstance, she’d hesitate, not wanting to reveal their identities to anyone else. She still wasn’t sure if the black and blue blob was a real person or not, really, but their situation was dire. This would be an issue for her to deal with when she was more coherent. Tikki would understand, she was sure of that at least.

“Spo’s off.”

As soon as the red flash of light disappeared, Marinette began screaming. The pain was too much too soon. It hurt, and she heard Adrien sobbing out apologies as he removed her earrings. He grabbed her hand and despite both of their shaking, managed to slip his ring onto her finger.

Someone held her head down, and she heard another voice whispering, “Mari, it’ll be okay. I won’t leave you, I promise.”

The voice sounded familiar, but she knew there was no way Damian was in Paris with her right now. She listened to it anyway, and thanked the universe for sending her such a comforting gift in her final moments.

“Your partner said you need to call for 'Plagg.' Can you do that?”

A gloved hand was rubbing her cheek, and she leaned into it. She tried nodding, but ultimately gave up in favor of mumbling, “Claws ou’.”

The green light that encased her seemed to ease some of the pain. It had become much more manageable, and she tried to pull her focus onto the hands holding her face to distract herself. She needed to focus on anything but the cold metal in her upper thigh and her scratchy throat.

The hands came loose from her face for a moment, and she tried to follow before they quickly returned, bare this time. They were warm. She leaned into them as best she could.

One hand rubbed soothing circles on Marinette’s cheek, and the other moved up to stroke her hair. She barely felt the tears dripping onto her forehead.

Finally, the world was righted again, and she felt the ladybugs swarming her body before she saw them. It wasn’t very often that she had the chance to feel the miraculous cure from this side, but it felt like nothing in the world had ever made sense before that moment. She felt like she was home.

Marinette began to properly stir, blinking away the blurriness that had clouded her vision. The night was bright with Parisian lights, just like it should have been. She began to that she might have imagined the last however many hours, but her fears were assuaged when she held up a black gloved hand before her eyes. This wasn’t the Ladybug suit, and that certainly wasn’t Chat Noir looking down at her.

Holding her were two men she had only ever seen in the news — Nightwing and Robin. Where had Damian gone? 

The hands still performing ministrations on her head belonged to Robin, and judging by the sopping wet hair Nightwing sported, they were who had pulled her from the Seine.

She blinked up at them before Robin pressed a desperate kiss to her forehead, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

Wait, why was Robin kissing her?

What had happened when she was passed out?

—

Damian had never felt such righteous fury before in his life, not even when his father had gone missing or all the times Ra’s had beat him senseless on the sparring mat. He had arrested many monsters and let them live, but he knew he could never grant such a mercy to the man who had done this to Marinette. This pure soul deserved everything life had to offer, and he would gladly give it to her, which meant destroying Hawkmoth.

He hadn’t had the chance to think better of it before he began pressing a hurried kiss to her forehead; he just needed to feel that she was still there, from his fingertips to his lips. It was rather embarrassing that Dick had been the one to witness it, as well. He wouldn’t say anything of it now, but Damian knew he was never going to live this down.

Yet right now, nothing else mattered. His Mari was safe, her beautiful heart beating in tandem with his. Everything about her was beautiful. Her delicate face, lithe hands, and soft hair felt almost too good to be true. He could live a thousand lifetimes repenting, and he still would never truly deserve her.

Part of him was glad that she had changed suits because the black leather highlighted the deep blush painting her skin. The red spandex would have distracted too much from it. 

Marinette let loose a nervous laugh. “Uh, what did I miss?”

Damian never let his eyes linger from her own, but he could feel the shit-eating grin dancing across his brother’s face. He chose, very pointedly, to ignore it.

“I took too long to get here,” he whispered to her. “I wish you had been able to inform me of this foul bastard tormenting your city. I would have had his head on a platter for you in a heartbeat.”

Dick chimed in, “Wow, kid. You sure know how to woo ‘em.”

Marinette’s face somehow became impossibly redder, and the skin was burning underneath his hands. She tried to sink into herself, but the tight leather suit left little room to hide. The faux cat ears were definitely not helping her.

Before she had the chance to question the vigilante’s familiarity with her, her partner came rushing towards them. He now donned a red and black polka dotted suit similar to the one she had worn earlier. The accessories they had swapped seemed to be the cause of it, but they could discuss this later. Maybe when they hadn’t just watched Marinette thrash around in agony.

The ladybug hero fell onto his knees and threw his body around her, crying into her shoulder, “Thank Kwamis, you’re alright! I don’t think I could have lived with myself if anything had happened to you.”

Marinette pulled a hand up to gently pet her partner’s hair, a soft smile gracing her now less-red face. He buried his face further into the crook of her neck, and she brought her other hand to rub along his back. Damian felt his heart drop at the exchange.

“It’s alright, Minou.” She let out a dry laugh. “Now you know how I feel every time you throw yourself head first into danger.”

Damian was overcome with a sudden possessiveness. He knew who this other boy was. He was Adrien, the boy who had broken Marinette's heart, and the one she still called her best friend. Damian believed that perhaps she was far too forgiving. He would never let anything bad happen to her again.

One of his hands moved to push Adrien off of her, the other still tenderly holding her face. The other boy was caught off guard by the sudden movement, and Marinette’s eyebrows jumped in shock.

“Bug off, Minou, ” Damian growled at him. His hand returned to rubbing her hair back. “She’s mine.”

He felt a sudden smack against the back of his head.

“For fuck’s sake, Damian. I taught you to act better than that,” Dick chided him. Damian swung his head around to meet his brother’s menacing gaze with his own.

“So much for secret identities, Grayson.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Like she wasn’t gonna find out anyway. What, with your little kiss and confession.”

Heat rose in Damian’s face. Whether it was in anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t say, but suddenly he was tackling Dick back into the river. It wasn’t a ‘confession,’ okay? It was simply a truth she should be aware of. Damian Wayne didn’t do ‘confessions.’

They hit the water in a tangle of limbs and spandex, and Damian swore he could hear Marinette laughing as he submerged into the water. He was overcome with the thought that maybe, it wasn’t so bad to open up his heart to someone. After all, nothing in this world could possibly be sweeter than her voice. 

A kick to the jaw reminded Damian why he had tackled Dick into the Seine in the first place. He was so going to kill him.

#batman #wolfish-writes #damian wayne #maribat #maridami #miraculous ladybug #mlb x dcu #dcu x mlb #batbros #batfamily #daminette #dick grayson #adrien agreste #lady noire #mister bug

[gloryhrs]

━━ ⟡ 𝓜𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝓛𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍', grimmjow j.

꒰ 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. ꒱

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐖 made his way up the ladder as he dismissed the burning pain on the side of his head. But the way the red fluid streamed from his forehead to his chin non-stop was impossible for him to brush off. "Damn Kurosaki, I’ll deal with him later." He cursed the male with orange hair who succeeded in winning the fight. After he managed to get up, he took a peek inside the window. His eyes softened when he saw the man with brown skin sleeping on the sofa with a thick cover draped over him. Holding his bloodstained arm, Grimmjow knocked on the window several times so that the sleeping male would awaken. "Damn it! Open up, brat!" Grimmjow struck his fist at the window, almost shattering the glass. You could sleep through a tornado if you had the chance.

The sudden sound made you sit up quickly, "Huh?" You wiped the drool out of the corner of your mouth while looking out the window. "Grimmjow?" You rubbed your eyes and slowly made your way to the window, after opening up a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. "I thought I told you to stay awake by the time I got here." His words muffled into your neck, the smell of your signature fragrance soothing him. "I'm sorry, college's been stressing me out lately, I swear I didn't mean it." You returned the hug as his grip tightened. He wanted to kill those assholes from your school, they always stressed you out and even made you cry once.

"Grim your face. . . what did I tell you about getting into all of these fights?! You’re starting to worry me." Your fingers rubbed against the dry blood on his forehead, causing him to hiss from pain. No matter how much you begged him, he just wouldn’t stay out of trouble. Grimmjow grumbled curses under his breath at the memory, "That bastard got the upper hand on me this time. It won't happen again, I swear. I hope you aren’t upset with me." He removed his face from your neck and gave your cheek a long kiss. He despised the way you would be upset with him for doing ridiculous things. "I’m not upset, I just want you to be careful." You caressed the small scratches on his cheeks, with him leaning into your touch. Your words calmed Grimmjow down, before he headed back to Hueco Mundo, you always advised him to take care.

"Now, let’s get you all bandaged up! After that, we can watch the one-piece movie I told you about." You took his hand and dragged him to the bathroom while rambling about the film. "Sit." You pointed to the toilet as Grimmjow followed your command, there would be times when he would talk back but you always smacked him across his head before he could finish. After wetting the washcloth you moved his blue locks back to clean off the dirt-covered cuts on his face. Grimmjow hissed when the cold water rubbed against his wounds. You laughed at his dramatic behavior, "Sorry, it might sting a little." You placed the bloody washcloth down and took the first aid kit out of the cabinet. As you stood between his legs to bind the gauze around his head his arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you closer to him, which almost made you trip in the process.

"Thank you for everything, brat." He leaned his bandaged forehead against your belly while your fingers ran through his hair. If it wasn't for you, he would have died, given that you found him bleeding in an alley. Your best friend called you a fool for bringing a stranger into your home without knowing what he's up to. But you ignored them, your heart was too big to leave someone for dead in an alley. Once you treated his injuries, you let him sleep in your guest room till he woke up. But when you returned to see him, he was gone. You were a bit sad not to have his name until he arrived at your window around midnight.

"Are you the one who cured me?" The man with the blue hair kept the flowers in his hand. "Oh! Yes, I saw you bleeding out in an alleyway and I didn’t want you to die." You played with your fingers at the man who looked at you up and down, his eyes were practically burning holes in your skull. He had to admit that for some guy, you were kinda cute. "I'm not used to saying this, but thank you. I picked them up from somebody's backyard." He handed you the flowers with the roots still attached to them, you wanted to say something but it's the thought that matters. You felt your cheeks warm up at the friendly gesture, there’s a handsome man to your window at midnight and gave you flowers?! It was as if a dream had come true! "Ah thank you, sir! Can I ask you your name?" You sniffed the flowers as he gave you a final look, "It's Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez"

Ever since, Grimmjow's been showing up at your window every night for year. You always invited him so you could watch films and play together. Your flowery and joyous aura was like a breath of fresh air in his eyes. He wished he had met you earlier.

"It's all right, I'm glad I was there for you." You kept scratching his scalp, the purring light from him made you squeak inside. Grimmjow could feel like he was falling into a deep sleep the way your fingers ran through his hair. "Grim, I still have to wrap up your arm." You caressed his cheek as he groaned and freed you from his clutch. "Don’t be such a baby, once I’m finished with your arm then we can go cuddle." You took off his torn jacket and tossed it in the garbage, making a reminder to burn it later. "I told you, I ain’t no baby." He grunted under his breath while you were withholding your laugh, you always thought he was adorable when he was sulking.

"I’m sowwy kitten, don’t pout. You'll make me feel sad." You poked your bottom lip to upset the espada even more. Grimmjow resisted the urge to throw you through the window as you mocked him. "I wasn’t pouting! I frowned!" He showed his sharp fangs in a menacing way, which made you pinch his cheek. "You're so sweet Grim Grim!" you cut the gauze from around his arm. Once you put the scissors down Grimmjow immediately lifted you up and threw your body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Grimmjow! What are you doing?!" You scratched at his bare back as he squeezed your thighs to shut you up . . . it didn’t work. "I’ll show you who’s the kitten!"

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐖 soft purring was the only thing you could hear while the movie played. "So cute." You scratched behind his ears as his purring grew louder, as soon as you press play on the TV screen Grimmjow laid his head on your chest and fell asleep. "Grim, are you still awake?" You stopped scratching his head as he groaned into your chest. "What is it brat." He lifts his head, his blue hair now all over the place. "Will you be with me when I wake up? I want to cook breakfast for you." You touched the hollow mask. Every time you go to sleep with him, he's always gone by the time you wake up. You watched his light blue eyes soften your question. "Yes babe, I’ll be here." He placed his head back on your chest, the sound of your quick heartbeat which made him chuckle. "I love you, Grimmjow." "I love you too, Y/n." He leaned forward to give your lips a sweet peck.

© gloryhrs, 050523. // notes and reblogs are appreciated! (≧∇≦) /

#(ㅅ´ ˘ `) @gloryhrs . . . ! #anime #manga #animanga #bleach #bleach tybw #bleach x male reader #male reader #black reader #bleach imagines #bleach oneshot #bleach x reader #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #grimmjow x reader #bleach grimmjow #grimmjow fluff #black male reader

[blackjackkent]

Heading west from the gnolls and away from the smell of blood, Rakha is struck by a sudden new smell - much more pungent, and just as laced with death.

Smoke.

The village up ahead is burning, echoing with shouts of pain and terror. A small herd of soldiers in silver and red armor are swarming the courtyard fumbling with buckets of water or standing shell-shocked among the dead.

Rakha questions one of the officers. There was an attack by goblins and drow here. Probably the same that Rakha killed in the temple. She remembers that those out front were celebrating a successful raid.

The devastation they left behind is considerable. The smell of smoke is mixed with blood from the corpses scattered across the square. Luckily, the hunger they might rouse in Rakha's head is muted after the recent experience with the gnolls.

At the far end of the square is by far the largest building in the village, an enormous inn suffused with smoke and flame. Rakha can hear a woman shouting from inside, and several of the armored guards are wrestling with the front door in a panic.

"Keep pushing!" one of them shouts as Rakha and the others approach. "Duke Ravengard could be inside! On count of three - one, two--"

To Rakha's surprise, Wyll goes completely still, his eyes widening. "Ravengard? He's here?!"

"Yes!" bellows the soldier over her shoulder. "Now make yourself useful. Push, damn it! PUSH!"

Something in Wyll's expression has struck Rakha with an urgency to the situation that has nothing to do with the guard's shouting. Without taking time to think, she strides forward, slams her boot into a weak spot in the jammed door, knocking it backwards with a burst of thunder magic from the sole.

The door collapses with a shuddering BANG and all the officers burst into sudden frantic movement, darting into the inn. Wyll, too, breaks into a run, knocking past Rakha's shoulder as he hurls himself into the smoke.

Instinctively, she follows.

The shouting is coming from upstairs. The air is thick with smoke, choking, blinding; she can barely breathe, can't see. She follows Wyll unsteadily to the upper floor, where the officers have come to a halt in front of one of the doors.

What are they waiting for? Another burst of thunderous magic rolls around Rakha's fingers and she blasts it past the guards, shattering the door apart and releasing the trapped woman behind.

It's only when they're back downstairs again, out of the smoke and into the light, that Rakha can take a proper look at her. She's an elf, with dark green skin, wearing robes that would likely be fine if they were not soaked in the same sweat and ash that covers her body. And, apparently, Wyll knows her, for he bursts in before Rakha can speak.

"Councilor Florrick! Are you all right?" He sounds more worried than Rakha has ever heard him, even when talking about the tadpoles.

The woman starts to nod - then does a double-take. "Wyll?" Her eyes widen and her lips part in sudden shock as she takes in his devilish appearance; her gaze lingers on the rough place where his horns meet his skull. "By the Maimed God..." she whispers, horrified. "What's become of you?"

It's subtle, but Rakha knows Wyll well enough by now that she can see the way he flinches under her gaze. But his voice is steady. "A story best left for calmer days," he says firmly. "Now breathe deeply - are you in pain?"

Florrick draws a slow breath, lets it out, then shakes her head. "A scorched throat. A few hairs singed off," she says, with a crispness that almost reminds Rakha of herself. For how close this woman came to death, she seems remarkably self-possessed. "Nothing a bit of time and fresh air can't cure."

She doesn't wait for Wyll's response, but turns sharply to the officers all hovering nearby with anxious expressions. "Gauntlet," she says to the one who seems to be their leader. "A new duty calls. Drow have taken Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard - westward, if my eyes and ears can be believed. Report to the manip and send for reinforcements. We must find the Duke."

Rakha vaguely hears the collected officers making noises of concern and obedience - but her eyes have flicked back to Wyll and stayed there, because his expression has gone slack with shock. They have already faced down many monsters, but she has never seen him look so dismayed.

Instinctively she tenses, putting one hand behind her to rest on her quarterstaff. What danger does he see?

"No..." he whispers. "It can't be. You mean, they've taken--"

"Yes, Wyll," Florrick says, and though her tone is still grave and curt, there is a note of compassion in it. "The drow have taken your father."

The sentence falls like a lead weight into the conversation. Rakha blinks, Wyll's shoulders hunch. Shadowheart lets out a soft whistle under her breath. Lae'zel curses.

Rakha's brain works furiously through these new details. Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard. A leader with a title - and loyal followers, judging by the eagerness with which these soldiers plan to find him. She has heard Wyll speak before of the city of Baldur's Gate, the largest city in the area, and of its leaders in vague terms. Grand Duke is the highest among them. This Ravengard, then - Wyll's father - is one of the most powerful people in the region.

And Wyll has said nothing of it.

"Wyll," she says slowly, questioningly, "you are the son of nobility?"

Wyll frowns - yet another new expression, this one of deep bitterness. "The circumstance of my birth is no matter of pride - for neither me, nor my father." He draws a heavy breath. "But pride is no reason to refuse help to my own flesh and blood." His eyes fix back on Florrick. "How can we help?"

Florrick looks him over appraisingly, then nods. "Rescue Ravengard from his drow captors. Baldur's Gate needs him now more than ever."

Wyll nods gravely. "Trust us to see it through, Councilor," he says.

Rakha feels tremendously thrown by this new development. They already have other plans that need attending to - Lae'zel's creche, for one. On the other hand... if Ravengard was taken by the cultists, and Halsin and the Dream Guardian were right, then he has likely gone to Moonrise Towers, which is the same place they need to go to follow the cult to its source and exact a final revenge.

And... more than that... Wyll has helped her, and now he needs help. So she nods - almost without hesitation, in spite of the turmoil in her mind. "I'll rescue Duke Ravengard," she says sharply. "You have my word."

She feels, rather than sees, Wyll relax at her side.

Florrick nods. "Thank you." She smiles very slightly in Wyll's direction. "When the Grand Duke returns to the city, he'll hail his only son a hero." The smile fades, and she is suddenly all business again, looking at Rakha. "Approach the Towers with care. The land itself has been swallowed in shadow. I will seek reinforcements and join you when I can."

A pause, and then she looks back at Wyll again, and for a moment, the businesslike air melts off her completely, and she looks at him with the sober gaze of a concerned friend. "Remember, Wyll," she says, "'Courage is found in the battle against fear, not in the defeat of it.'"

"So Father said," Wyll says gravely. "I won't soon forget."

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #wyll lore drop whee #also casual reminder that Florrick is the best

[jazztag]

A Cure for Solitude XVII

W feels sore from where he has been grabbed. His shoulders hurt, his head aches, the pain numbing his other senses, even his smell, his best one out of the five. He tries to grab onto anything, but finds his hands held together behind his back. He is seated on the floor in a dark place, and he is not alone.

Other 'creatures' like him stumble around, some seated on the floor as well, others walking around. W looks around, seeing half-rotten bodies just like him, wandering around in what appears to be a big metal box. Maybe some sort of container? W can’t remember exactly how he ended up here. He was probably ambushed, but it’s been too long since then to recall. There’s just one thought in his mind that crosses between his eyes. He thinks about M, and wonders if he’ll ever trust him again. If he’ll ever forgive him for biting him. His heart aches at the memory. And it’s so difficult to move past that, when that’s one of the only memories he has to himself.

He looks around again. There are some of them that are tied to their ankles as well, and there are creatures with restraints on their mouths. One of them walks towards the fearful W, still crouching on the floor. The other creature sniffs the air around him and keeps walking past him. W trembles a bit and tries to think of happy memories, at least the ones he can recall from these last few days. He really tries, feeling scared and disoriented in the dark space full of creatures. But every good memory he tries to think about, there’s M in there, a reminder of how hurt and mad he looked after W bit him. And any sense of warmth gets lost again in the vast shadows of regret.

He looks around again. Maybe he is finally getting punished for his sins. For being like that. All those creatures, like him, look like figments of the past, deformed and malfunctioning. There’s pain behind each one of those eyes. They are all alone together and as a whole.

Suddenly, very bright lights turn on over their heads, and like everyone else, W buries his head in his shoulders, trying to protect his fragile eyes from the dazzling light. No luck, they start hurting like hell from overexposure. There are some voices speaking loudly from over the walls. When W is finally able to open his eyes, still sore, he distinguishes a lot of people right on the upper level of the big white room. Real people, humans, like M calls himself. They all look down at the creatures below their feet. A lot of them have their phones out, recording them with a mix of curiosity and fear. There are also scary big men armed with huge guns pointing down at them, and W panics a little, recoiling until hitting the wall with his back.

There’s a lot of chaos. Two creatures get violent and start trying to reach the upper level where the ‘real people’ are. Shots are heard, and the bodies fall limp to the floor. W, from the corner of the container, starts trembling frantically. He can’t stop looking at one of the fallen creatures in the eyes. The gaze is still there, still alive. The body is dead, letting out some dark purple droplets scattered around the white tile floor. But W can see those eyes still alive, looking back at him and pleading to die. But they can’t. Prisoners of a lifeless body forever.

W trembles uncontrollably. He looks around for an exit. Other creatures are trying to search for one as well, moving slowly but surely around the metallic walls of the container. But the small creature is paralyzed by fear. He tries to hide his face in his big clothes, and suddenly it dawns on him. He is completely nude. They all are.

W falls on his back, seated against the wall with his knees up and glued together. He buries his head in his shoulders, and he feels all his bones trembling in unison. The walls are cold. The floor is cold. Everything is cold, and when he looks up, he only sees a bunch of people who call themselves ‘human’. Mocking them creatures, recording them, fixing their gaze onto their rotten bodies with morbid curiosity, no respect nor pity, only disgust.

W tries to make himself as small as possible. Maybe if he tries very hard, he will end up fusing to the wall, becoming one with it. Suddenly, one gate opens, and a bunch of armed men enter the perimeter, right on the opposite wall. Since every creature here is restrained in some way, everyone recoils, not wanting to get near the scary humans. The armed men look around, as if trying to decide which piece of rotten meat to take. Some creature tries desperately to flee running past them, but the group of approximately five people shoot at it without hesitation, and all the other creatures growl and moan in fear, walking backwards towards the farthest wall, where W sits against.

“Now, thanks to the Protocol, every piece of rot is no longer considered a person,” hears W from above his head. There’s someone shouting some explanations to the crowd through a megaphone. “Fend for yourselves, we are selling each one of them at the starting price of 50.”

W asks himself what a ‘human’ could get out of a creature like him. His innocent and numb mind can’t even imagine the horrors the human species can do to themselves.

There’s a lot of chaos following the shouting, and some creatures get dragged out of the container and into plastic bags. They manage to put tape around their faces, so they don’t see nor bite at anything. A scary huge man seems to discover W still seated in a corner, and trembling like a leaf. The man starts approaching him, every other creature fleeing from his presence and inadvertently opening him the path towards the small zombie.

W shuts his eyes, and because his hands are still tied down behind his back, the only thing he can do is bury his head between his knees like a scared animal and wish for the best.

Taglist: @whump-blog @cupcakes-and-pain @crunchypuppy06 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @kona-luu @hurtthemgently (comment to get added/removed from the list!)

#promptfactory #originalcharacter #my ocs #prompt #whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumpee x caretaker #zombie whumpee #zombie x human #medic caretaker #zombie #whump writing #writing snippet #medical whump #acureforsolitude

[starshcwer]

( better than cure materia! | @onegil )

❛ you know --- you can be a little stubborn ! ❜ jade optics shift from examining the barmaid's knee, becoming lost within crimson irises. pouring the hi-potion onto a piece of cloth, a feathered hand cleans at her wound, expression softening when a soft wince is uttered by the raven. ❛ they may have had the upper hand ... but we sure showed them ! you kick ass, teef ! ❜ delicate & tender digits bandage the gash, now beginning to heal beneath white dressing. ❛ only one thing left to do, and you'll be as good as new ! ❜ lips purse, gently smooching the injury to give it an additional healing agent --- love. ❛ i predict a full recovery ! need a hand getting up? ❜ 🩹" ⎯୧ 🤍

tifa had the decency to feel a bit of shame at the scolding, but she knew she wouldn't change a thing. insisting on pushing through her injury to continue fighting had surely made it worse, but her friends were safe, & that was worth every moment of pain & each drop of blood. she only submitted herself to aerith's attentions when the fight had ended. adrenaline finally gave way & the pain made her stumble. she hated feeling like a bother–––– a burden–––– but accepting care now would save them time in the long run. her head turned to avoid aerith's gaze, doing her best to hide her embarrassment, only to flinch as pain traveled up her legs. aerith's touch was gentle, but the marred skin of her injury was sore & tender, & there was no avoiding it completely.

❛ sorry, ❜ came her quick murmur, knowing that she wasn't exactly playing the part of a perfect patient. she was fully expecting another scolding, ready for a reminder to hold still. the compliment she received in it's stead surprised her, her head turning to lock eyes with the healer once again. heat was already building in her cheeks. ❛ you think so? ❜ tifa had said the same words herself, dressed to the nines on the back of a chocobo carriage what felt like a lifetime ago as she attempted to reassure a childhood friend. but, hearing them come from aerith felt different. she wouldn't just leave it there, though, & found herself leaning into a more playful tone as the bandage was wound around her knee.

❛ well, i don't do all of that training for nothing, you know! ❜

she assumed the process of patching up her knee had finished once aerith finished tying the bandage so the sudden insistence that there was something yet to be done left the brawler confused. her head tilted to the side, her ponytail moving to swing with the gesture. before she could make a comment or as a question, aerith's lips were pressing gently against the injury, taking the air from tifa's lungs. the flush that had settled with the compliment from earlier was quickly spreading, leaving her face red & warm from the brief but tender moment. she found herself staring for far too long at the offered hand before she finally nodded, reaching out with a hand that was uncharacteristically unsteady.

❛ oh–––– uh––––yeah, sure! ❜

once she was on her feet, she kept hold of aerith's hand, ensuring she had her attention with a gentle squeeze. before she could think to long on it or question herself, tifa lifted it to her lips, pressing her own return kiss to her knuckles without looking away from the green of aerith's eyes. ❛ thank you. for taking care of me. ❜ 

a moment longer & tifa knew the realization of what she'd done would set in, & she moved quickly to avoid showing just how much worse her blush had grown. aerith's hand was released, & she moved forward before her eyes could linger for too much longer.

❛ c'mon, let's tell the others we're all finished here! ❜

#onegil #[ I LOVE THEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM SO MUCH this was so CUTE ] #「 questions asked to the stars 」–––– asks #「 the best answer one can give 」–––– tifa answers #〔 a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step ‚ one foot before the other〕–––– iv

[wowbright]

Fic: Enough

Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2023: “You're the Best Thing” by The Style Council (Day 5 prompt)

Words: ~2,825 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Kurt wants to know why Blaine arranged dinner with the lesbians.

I’m back with more vignettes from my Mormon!Klaine universe for Klaine Valentines 2023! This vignette takes place right after yesterday’s One Body. Mutual pining, and Kurt thinks Blaine is straight. Kinda angsty but also a little comfort maybe?

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost.

Notes: Jana and Liesl are Jan the jeweler and Liz her partner from 4.22 “All or Nothing.”

--------

“Thank you for coming over,” Liesl said as they stood at the front doorway getting ready to leave. She reached out and put a hand on each of the elders, giving their forearms a little squeeze. The touch was technically against the rules, but so was the rest of the evening. Kurt wasn’t going to say anything. “I'm sure you're supposed to spend your time with people who are more likely to convert, but it really was a delight. I haven't talked about religion like that since I was probably your age, staying up until three in the morning with my friends and pondering the big questions in life. You two remind me of my younger self, in some ways. Yes, I know that makes no sense coming from an old German, Catholic lesbian. But please. Stay in touch. I want to see where your lives lead you.”

Jana crooked her hand around Kurt’s upper arm and leaned toward his ear. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I came on too strong. I'm terribly stubborn. Liesel can tell you. It's a fault as much as it is a blessing.”

Kurt turned toward her. The warmth of her smile lit up the evening. She was a paradox that way. She poked and prodded at long-covered wounds, awakening pain that Kurt had become adept at ignoring. But there was a goodness to her, a kindness, that shone through. She understood his injuries and wanted to mend them. But just as a doctor couldn't cure every patient, her understanding couldn't heal him. “Don't worry about it,” he said. “I’m just as stubborn.”

“I know,” she smiled wistfully and then, to his utter surprise and in a very unGerman fashion, hugged him.

She didn't feel like his mother. His mother had always been bigger than him. She didn't feel like his mother's mother, either. But her embrace felt familiar in a way he couldn't explain. Maybe Blaine was right. Maybe somewhere deep inside, we really could remember the friends we had made in the pre-existence.

*

Blaine was out of words. He'd used so many of them over dinner, and held so many back, and he was still holding words back now, because Liesl and Jana, who had been so easy to talk to, were behind them. And Kurt, who was usually the easiest to talk to but tonight felt impossible to talk to, was next to him.

Blaine was angry. He was hurt. Because he’s straight and it doesn’t personally affect him.

It wasn't true. It wasn't true at all. Kurt just kept assuming he was straight. And part of that was Blaine’s fault. But it wasn't all Blaine’s fault. Blaine had never said anything about falling in love with girls, or thinking they were sexy, or even wanting to marry one. Had he assumed he would? Yes. But he’d never claimed to want it.

And it should be obvious. How could it not be patently obvious? Kurt was everything to Blaine. His love meant more than anything. The church, his parents, his granddad, his bishop, the apostles and prophets—their opinions and judgments no longer mattered. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall join with his beloved: and they shall be one flesh.

That's what Blaine wanted. To be one with Kurt.

Blaine said it and said it, but Kurt never heard. I love you at the end of their morning prayers. I love you when they went to bed at night. I love you at random moments, when Kurt filled him with delight. I love you when Kurt cried. I love you more than you know. I love you more than anything. I love you. I love you. I love you.

There had been a moment at dinner, when Jana and Liesl had been talking about being young and in love—when you’ve met the right person, you know—and Kurt’s eyes met his, and for a moment, Blaine could've sworn Kurt knew how he felt, and felt the same way.

But then the moment was gone, and Blaine wasn't sure anymore.

Blaine might have the air of a Disney Prince. But that didn't mean Kurt was in love with him. It didn't mean Blaine was worth abandoning dreams of the Celestial Kingdom over.

“You're awfully quiet,” Kurt said when they were several blocks away from Liesl and Jana's house, having gone right past the bus stop in silent agreement that tonight was a night for walking.

“You are, too,” Blaine said.

Kurt didn't answer. He looked ahead. The sun was setting behind them. In front of them, the clouds were a steely gray.

*

Are you running toward life in service to the church, or are you running away from life outside?

Jana’s words kept repeating in Kurt’s head. Why had he come on this mission? His dad didn't expect it of him. His bishop had recommended it, of course; but after Finn died, he'd said they could delay it. He could stay in Lima and help out his parents for a little longer. There was no hurry. It could happen in God’s time.

But there had been a hurry for Kurt. He’d needed out of Lima. He’d needed to stop being so sad. And how could he stop being sad when everything reminded him of his family's loss? He didn't want to drive past McKinley High and see that accursed practice field out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to run into his friends from the glee club, because they either talked about Finn or they didn't talk about Finn, and when they didn't talk about Finn, his memory loomed even more than when they did. He didn't want to walk past Finn's bedroom. He didn't want to go through Finn's stuff.

And he had planned for a mission, anyway. Ever since he'd been a little kid, he had dreamed about becoming a missionary. About spreading the gospel and Jesus’s love.

Also, it was expected of him. Heavenly Father expected him to go on a mission. It was necessary for Kurt’s refinement. Kurt had held no illusions that it would make him not gay. But he’d hoped it would make him holier. Maybe sacrificing two years of his life—never wearing anything interesting or dancing alone in his bedroom to loud showtunes or spending hours going through fashion magazines and redesigning the clothes he found in their pages—maybe that would teach him to sacrifice in other ways. If he could learn to live without the things that made life sparkle, then maybe he could learn to live without the hope of ever falling in love. He could adjust to what the Plan of Salvation offered him. He could stay celibate for a lifetime, earning himself a a wife and family and worlds without end in the afterlife. Or maybe he would develop the strength to marry Mercedes, if she converted, or someone like her—someone who understood him and made him laugh, someone he respected and loved. It wouldn't be like falling, but it would be good enough. Their children would make up for what their marriage lacked. Each day would be a struggle, but there would be rewards along the way.

Are you running toward life in service to the church, or are you running away from life outside?

It was easy for Jana to say. She had a life outside her convent. She had someone who loved her. Someone she could make a life with.

Kurt didn't. It felt that way, so often, with Blaine. But it wasn't real. When Kurt’s mission was over, he would go home, and Blaine would—well, maybe Blaine wouldn't forget him, but Blaine would love his next companion just as much. Blaine would keep on loving his companions and being patient with them and being kind to them, a perfect practice for loving the wife he would eventually be sealed to.

And sure. Maybe Kurt could find someone else. Someone gay who thought Kurt was smart and funny and kind and noble. Someone who found him attractive, who wanted to do more than just hold hands and hug in a brotherly fashion.

But Kurt didn’t want ‘someone.’ He wanted Blaine.

Kurt couldn't leave the church behind for a person who might exist, somewhere, maybe. He could leave it for Blaine. In a heartbeat, he would leave it for Blaine. Unlike what apparently existed in Catholicism, there was no room in Mormonism for that kind of love. You couldn't stay in the church as an unrepentant sinner. You had to make a choice between the language of your birth and the language of your heart.

But without Blaine? The church was the only language left that Kurt spoke fluently.

Are you running toward life in service to the church, or are you running away from life outside?

*

Kurt broke the silence again a kilometer or two into their walk, as they crossed the Danube. The usually green waters looked gray in the dwindling light. “You knew they were lesbians when they invited us,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, so Blaine didn’t answer. He sensed this was the beginning of a fight, and he wanted to delay the inevitable.

“You knew there wouldn't be any men in the house, but you accepted their invitation instead of sending the sisters over in our place.” Kurt’s voice was steady and deceptively curious, like that detective from the syndicated 1970s show who always pretended not to know anything even when he'd already cracked the case.

“They didn't invite the sisters,” Blaine said. “They invited us.”

“But why did you accept? You know we're not supposed to be alone with women. And given how moved you were by their love story, I hardly think you wanted to proselytize them. You do realize if they want to get baptized, they’d have to break up and stop living together, don't you?”

“You know why I accepted their invitation, Kurt.” They were in a park now, trees and grass all around them, the fluttering of the Danube echoing over their steps. The sun was gone. No one else was around.

“Because you were wrong, Blaine," Kurt continued as if Blaine had said nothing at all. "There is no same-sex marriage in the church. You can nitpick the language of the covenants all you want, but you know what they mean.”

Blaine gritted his teeth. “I was not wrong. It’s your business if that's the way you want to hear it, but that doesn’t make you right. Have you ever stopped to think that God inspired the phrasing used in the temple? Because the temple is scripture. The things the apostles say, the things the prophets say—unless they’re in Doctrine and Covenants, they’re not. And the Family Proclamation isn’t scripture, either. There’s truth in there—spouses should love each other, parents should love their children—but it’s not the truth. So if God doesn’t condemn same-sex marriage in the temple, maybe it means something.”

Kurt growled. He actually growled. “I can’t. I can’t with you.”

“Kurt. I’m not trying to make you angry. These are the things I truly believe, in my heart.”

“Are they? Are they really? Or are you trying to make me feel better because you can’t stand the fact that anyone around you might have been dealt a crappy hand when you got a terrific one? Because you don’t want the guilt of your own happiness?”

“Kurt. Don’t.”

Kurt turned to face Blaine. “No. It’s worse than that, isn’t it? It’s not for you. You do it for me. Because you care about me.” He said it like an insult, like it was a crime. Like love was an offense that needed to be punished.

“Yes, Kurt,” Blaine answered calmly. At least, his voice was calm. Inside, he was anything but. He was a deer hounded by wolves. He was an army of bees preparing to defend its hive. He was a mother bird whose eggs had slipped from the nest. “Because I care about you.”

Kurt’s skin was gray in the moonlight, but his teeth were white. “I don't want you to care!” He jabbed an index finger in Blaine's chest. “It's not your job, Blaine. Stop caring.”

“I can’t, Kurt.” Blaine felt tears pressing against his eye sockets, his forehead. It wasn't the time to say it, but he didn't know what else to say. “I can't, Kurt, because I love you. I do, and I can’t—”

“Love is overrated!” Kurt spun on his heels and began walking again, too fast for Blaine to keep up without jogging.

“Kurt, Kurt—” Blaine didn't know what to say. He wanted to finish his sentence, the one Kurt had interrupted, the one that was supposed to end and I can't stand this anymore, I can't stand the idea of you being alone for the rest of your life because I want to be in it, because I want to spend it loving you, in every way you want, kissing you and holding you and building a life together and making love to you and so many things, so many things I never imagined I would ever feel about anyone, if only you’ll have me. But Kurt was moving so fast, and he was so angry, and Kurt’s anger always made it harder for Blaine to say what he meant, made Blaine’s tongue tie up in knots that he didn't know how to undo.

“Love is overrated!” Kurt repeated, and then, in an exasperated stream, “They were nice ladies. There was nothing wrong with them. But you can't fix me with them, Blaine. You can't fix my life.”

Blaine put his hand on Kurt’s arm. It was a dangerous move, but Kurt had to slow down. Blaine wasn't wearing running shoes.

To Blaine’s surprise, Kurt didn't shake his hand away. He did, however, emit a very snappy, “What?”

Slow down, Kurt, Blaine meant to say. But what came out of his mouth was, “Love one another. You said it yourself, Kurt. It's the most important thing. Love one another.”

Kurt stopped in his tracks. His breathing changed. “But it's not enough, Blaine! Can't you see it's not enough?” The words started out sharply. But they weakened at the end, as if the wind had just been knocked out of Kurt. He covered his face with one hand and turned away from Blaine. He sniffled.

“Why isn't it enough?” Blaine asked.

“Because, because—” Kurt sobbed. “Because sometimes I feel like Heavenly Father doesn't care about love at all. That the Plan of Salvation is about something else. And I just can't figure out what, what it's for. And I want love to be enough, I do. But then there's all these other things, and these rules, and I get so scared, and I want to see Finn after I die, and what if we aren't in the same level of heaven, the church is supposed to bring families together, but I worry all the time that I’ll never see him again, and the gospel is supposed to be simple but it drives me up the wall, Blaine. I can never be good enough, there is no grace, there is no room for people like Liesl and Jana to live their lives and come to church when they want to and not get excommunicated for goodness sake. And maybe that's a good thing, because maybe if I get excommunicated I'll end up in the Telestial Kingdom and I will see Finn again, except then I won't see my dad or my mom and, and— I just want to love, Blaine. I want to love and be loved and be with the people I love. Is that so wrong?”

Kurt had been talking nonstop, barely a breath between phrases, gesticulating wildly with every utterance, as if he needed the help of his hands to pull the words out of his body and fling them to the stars. But now he went still. He went still, and looked at Blaine, and his voice softened. “Is that so wrong?” he repeated.

“No, Kurt. It’s right. It will always be right.”

Kurt collapsed into Blaine, his arms around Blaine’s shoulders and his face pressed into his neck, burning hot like the sun and sopping wet like the Danube. “I’m sorry, Blaine. You did nothing wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Blaine said. He wrapped an arm around Kurt’s back—propping him up, trying to give him strength he needed. He raised the other arm and curled his hand around Kurt’s head, holding him close, praying that his love could be enough, at least for this moment. “I know, Kurt.” He buried his nose into Kurt’s hair and kissed him—not because he thought Kurt would feel it, or that if he felt it, he would understand what it meant. But because Blaine had to. “I want it to be enough, too.”

#klainevalentines2023 #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #wowbright writes fic #mormon!klaine #i actually teared up writing this one but ymmv #kurt stop it

[b-curelaser]

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#back pain treatment #best cure for upper back pain #best laser treatment website #how to cure upper back pain #laser treatments for back pain

[dangermousie]

Second biting scene (that did not make it into the drama)

I’ve seen a couple of people ask and this is my fave scene in the novel. I am sad it did not make it in though I was pretty sure it wouldn’t for reasons that would become obvious once you read it. This is deepl translation - the chapter is 162-163.

Huo Bu Dou pressed lightly on the vermilion railing, crossed the corridor like an arrow, caught up with Shao Shang in three or two steps, grabbed her wrist, then flipped it, lifted her sleeve with the other hand to her upper arm, and there, as Luo Jitong said, was a very shallow circle of teeth marks, the wound was almost healed - he suddenly sank his face.

ShaoShang jumped in shock, while wrenching at the other's large palm, while trying to be solemn: "What do you want to do!"

The girl under the flower tree was pale and delicate, her soft cheeks flushed with a warm, inebriated blush, like rouge dyed on delicate, semi-transparent white jade, and the falling pink and white petals fell a little on her dark hair.

"I have something to say to you." He said.

 Shao Shang was furious: "Later, you let go first! Aigoo ...... you let go of ......" Huo not only did not let go of her wrist, but also the momentum of her slender waist, the force of almost her back out of breath.

 "Say it now." His tone is calm, Shao Shang helpless compromise, "then also can not be said here ah, find another place." Her reputation is bad enough, but not so bad as to break the pot.

 Huo Bu Dou is also familiar with the Changqiu Palace, heard the words and dragged Shao Shang towards the forest garden, Shao Shang busy said: "No, no, no, today the spring light is perfect, after the feast the ladies must go to the forest garden to dissipate the alcohol ...... go to the side hall, there are several isolated palace rooms... ..."

The two of them are in the middle of the road.

The two of them came to an unoccupied palace room, Huo Bu Dou walked with great strides, Shao Shang stumbled, Huo Bu Dou wanted to hold her several times, but she firmly refused.

Into the palace room, Shao Shang forcefully pushed away from the man, walked away a few steps: "Well, you have something to say."

 Huo Bu Dou stood in the doorway, turned his back and closed the parchment newly glued exquisite flower grille door with his back hand, like a gloomy god walking slowly towards her, Shao Shang couldn't help but take a step back.

 Huo Bu Dou lifted up the sleeve of his right arm, above is a circle of deep pink small teeth marks: "Why is your wound so shallow? At the beginning I should have bitten deeper than you."

 Shao Shang's left hand slowly caressed his upper right arm, pressed the scar, coldly said: "Over the years I have sought the best trauma doctors, used the best scar removal ointment, is to completely smooth out this mark. Now it's almost time, when I get married, this mark will fade away to nothing!"

The girl stood there arrogantly, her eyebrows cool, Huo Bu Dou suddenly hated, he was already very sick, there is no cure, but she wants to retreat, after the wound is healed to marry another person, why?

He has been practicing martial arts since childhood, the steps to control the opponent has been familiar with, even in the saddle sleepy to drowsy, once the hand can naturally adapt to the body, this instinct has helped him many times in exhaustion to overcome the enemy; but now he could not care less, a big step forward, no rules twisted the girl's arm, half-press her, lifting the sleeve on the bite.

Shao Shang was sitting on the shiny floor, stunned for a moment before reacting, like seeing a kind-eyed Buddha wipe off his disguise and reveal the true face of the demon.

Huo Bu Dou has always been very gentle to her, even the last time the arm for the alliance is also a good voice to discuss before the mouth, how to go to the border six years, from the advanced and developed feudal society regressed back to the primitive clan of drinking blood.

The intense skin-breaking pain came from the upper arm, Shao Shang right arm was held immobile, can only use the left hand back, first clenched his thick black strong hair pulled back, she thought this force down at least his scalp will be painful, but Huo Bu Dou face as usual, teeth continue to force, only with cold withdrawing eyes fierce glare at her.

"You let go, let go! Let go of me ...... pain pain pain ...... you let go of your mouth first!" The sharp tip of the teeth cut through the outer epidermis penetrating the muscular layer, Shao Shang pain hard, haphazardly slapping his shoulders and arms, hate also to grab his flawless face, the result of her that in the palace life carefully care up the nail root rupture, their own fingertips in turn emerge blood.

The first thing that happened was that the scars that were about to disappear were covered with fresh blood, the teeth were clear, and the flesh and blood were clear - it was obvious that even if a miracle doctor came to life, she would not be able to get rid of the scars in a few months.

Huo Bu Dou kneeled on one leg, while fumbling for something in a brocade bag at his waist.

Shao Shang looked at her own blood-stained arm and could not restrain her anger; she was also a street fighter, not some gentle and thrifty honest girl, ate such a big loss which could not be forgotten, immediately pounced on the man to bite and beat.

Huo Bu Dou cheek and jaw took a few blows, he did not take it seriously, but at this time he remembered the steps to control the enemy.

He held a white jade vial in his right hand, his left arm slightly flexed, pinched the girl's right hand accurately, backhanded her into his arms, his slender back just against his chest, holding the right hand of the white jade vial to fingertips hooked up the girl's right sleeve, revealing the bloody wound, and then bit her sleeve robe to keep it from drooping, thumb pushed open the velvet plug of the white jade vial, sprinkling the powder inside evenly on the bite.

Shao Shang wailed miserably, like a beast being skinned, the wound dressing burning pain, she knew the powder could prevent the bite from inflammation and ulceration, but the last dressing he was so gentle to coax her and tease her, his eyes loving and cherishing, like a brother, like a father, why do this to her now!

She was trapped in his iron-clad arms, struggling like crazy with pain, but his chest was hard and his arms were strong, so she punched him hard with her left hand to no avail; red-eyed, she realized her right hand was still firmly held by Huo's left hand, so she bit him angrily on the back of his hand.

 Between the teeth out of a trace of blood, the white skin on the back of his hand ruptured in a moment, Huo Bu Dou as if he did not know, like a gentleman picking a lamp for his beloved, the look of concentration moving, carefully to her arm each bloody hole sprinkle good powder.

Shao Shang got tired of biting, indignantly let go of his mouth, turned around and angrily cursed: "You are crazy!"

 Huo Bu Dou didn't change his face: "You're no better."

  "You're an asshole!"

 "And how much better can you be, heartless, selfish and cold."

 The two stared at each other angrily, as if they were enemies in a past life who had made a great hatred of life and death, neither of them refused to back down a step.

 Shao Shang said viciously: "I am not good, why are you still pestering me!"

 Huo didn't answer, he kissed the corner of his mouth, which was still bloodied, and kissed it deep and furiously, as if he was biting down on his prey's throat, and Shao Shang whimpered and pushed his face. As always, he couldn't be ruthless and had to let her go.

And so ultimately in 163:

Shao Shang exhausted sitting, back against the appropriate fight in the kicked over the case, gasping for breath to see Huo Bu Dou to dress their wounds. A circle of cloth tape properly wrapped around the arm, thick breathable fine linen presents a comfortable beige, reflecting Shao Shang's arm but white in blue. And Huo not doubt is also torn enough, hair messy, face and neck scattered with fine red scratches, the back of the left hand and a shocking bite wound - in fact, they have fought many times before, but never as this time to see blood and bone.

And then in 163, I love this bit:

Huo Bu Dou grabbed her, kneeling on one leg, firmly holding her slender waist, and pleaded, "Don't be so cruel, six years ago I was wrong to you, others don't understand, but I do - you never trusted others, nor did you want to rely on others, but I forced you to accept me, and when you wanted to live with me wholeheartedly, I gave up. When you want to live with me wholeheartedly, but I gave you up ......"

There is a high wall made of ice in her heart, this side of the wall is her alone, no one can enter. Six years ago, Ling Bu Dou crashed through this ice wall with a thunderbolt, saying that in the future they could keep each other warm, and she believed him with all her strength, and what happened ...... she had made up her mind that she would never come out again in this life!

"I will never forgive you!" She dripped tears, gritted her teeth, and said viciously, "Don't dream, I can live well until now, is by hard heart. I will never forgive someone who has wronged me, once unfaithful, a hundred times unused, six years ago you would abandon me, how do you know you will not repeat the same mistake in the future! I know that everyone is helping you to talk, including my family, but I don't want to do what you want! I can live well without you, I will never trust you again, never!"

  Huo Bu Dou also fell into tears, humbly pleading: "They are not speaking for me, they are helping us. Take a look at yourself in the mirror, the way you look at Yuan Shen is completely different from when you look at me. I'm not blind, and neither is anyone else!"

[skipping a bit]

"These six years I always have a dream that my parents, brothers and sisters are alive and well, never had a tragedy; I went to your house to propose marriage, you agreed, and then we happily became husband and wife -"

Shao Shang's eyes were blurred with tears, thinking how good it would be if Huo Chong and his wife were still alive, if all of them were alive.

Huo Bu Dou would have been the most handsome and cheerful young man in the entire capital, and they would have met at the lantern market, but this time, he would not have had any worries, but would have walked over to her openly, and as soon as he saw his face, he would have been a nymphomaniac. [bwahahaha what MTL? What does this even mean? whatever way you read it, it’s delicious...]

Maybe Mrs. Xiao will dislike him for being reckless, and Papa Cheng will dislike him for being abrupt, but given the Huo family's illustrious family, she will always marry over; when her children are around, she will tell everyone that it was actually the cabbage that moved first.

 Huo Bu Dou's eyes are red, his eyelashes condensed with tears, grabbing her hands and placing them on his cheeks: "Don't be so cruel, please, don't be so cruel to me."

The Shao Shang can no longer maintain the indifferent frame, like a child crying, tears and snot, no image; today she is defeated, no power to fight back.

[skipping a bit]

the door of the palace room was swish open, the number of inside and outside meet, only to see Shao Shang upright local, Huo Bu Doubt single-legged kneeling in front of her, both have tear marks on their faces, clothes have scattered blood, the floor of the case and its upper furnishings scattered messy.

#love like the galaxy #cnovel #so you see why this was no go for censors but too bad

[rineedagger]

Evil

| Psychological thriller-horror themed, if you're easily disturbed by reading things from a twisted or abnormal pov, don't read | death tw |

Extra important info: This is about two male characters (Damian and Samuel), one in life and the other in death.

"Numerous are the cultures that demonize certain human actions and desires. They go by different names, wear different faces, and take on multitude forms under various ideologies, beliefs, and sciences… Yet, whether demon, yokai or pazuzu, their essence is unequivocally the same.

Sinisterism has been catapulted under a myriad of aliases and identities in a futile attempt to revoke its perversion through diverse cures and rituals. But Evil has no cure, no name, no origin; its existence is intrinsic to us… because when you look Evil in the eyes, Evil looks back at you."

Samuel fell. Fell with the weight of it all. Fell with the pain of the woman who will never embrace her husband again. Fell with the last "I love you" that couldn't arrive and won't anymore. Fell with the unworn  wedding ring still in its box.

Grief spilled out like fresh blood from Damian's body that had been full of life just moments ago. The chest heaved fiercely, coursing through every artery. A shrill beep pierced both ears like a lightning thread while the skin on the upper neck stood on end. A sensation akin to drowsiness floated inside the skull, unable to discern whether everything that was happening was real or a deception because, if there was anything worse than death, it was being proven useless, incompetent.

"And of all, you are my finest work" confessed between breaths, with a metallic, crimson-tinted taste emerging from between his lips, accompanied by a subtle whistling that turned into a gurgle. His eyebrows relaxed as a tear slid down his cheek and his hands desperately tried to reach that face he knew was too far away. 

"So… perfect," Damian managed to finally, and unintelligibly, spit out before his gaze blurred to where it last landed. It seemed as if, even in death, his actions flowed from those lifeless pupils onto the ground, covering it all in a black river, contaminating, infecting… corrupting.

His blood, as thick as concrete, spread across the endless floors. That pool of oil caressed the skin of Samuel's shoes and embraced them as it continued its journey through every corner of the parquet.

For a moment, he swore he felt pressure, as if he was being held.

Just as that light-reflecting liquid collided with the wall, it continued its branching path, as if that black sea were forming coal corals across the four whitish skies, like the trace of thousands of fingers running arbitrarily down one's back.

It was then that Samuel finally understood that someone like Damian couldn't die: Before, he hid behind those cloudy, empty eyes. Now, in every inch of the room.

Someone like him doesn't bleed.

Someone like him doesn't cry.

Someone like him doesn't die.

Like a sudden change of the weather, every muscle on his body relaxed, ceasing of resisting. A cascade as dense and opaque as oil surged violently from inside the walls, sweeping away and engulfing everything in its path. That mind, immersed in boundless madness, had just entered a spiral of chaos and destruction, distancing himself further from sanity like a sailboat adrift without a rudder or hatch. The most perverse of the cruelties will no longer be his only and best companion, but his language. He knew, that from that point on, many would hesitate about his own humanity, as they would only see what they can reach; they would consider him a dangerous and sadistic lunatic, a sudden sociopathy merged with a twisted and tormented childhood linked with an absented mother figure. Only a few would be able to see beyond their own fear and repulsion towards their own doubts, their own darkness...even their own sanity, dressed in something called "moral limits". They would feel how he and the darkness became one, how all of it went beyond the act and the blood. And it had been a long time since his body only felt warmth when the world was on fire.

Someone like him doesn't die.

#i.r dagger #dark aesthetic #writeblr #original story #original character #oc #ocs #dark theme #part of a story #short story #thriller #thrilling #horror themed #fanfic

[vote-gaara]

headcanons on technology in the naruto world?

Honestly, my headcanons on technology in the Naruto world are pretty accurately represented by the List of Technologies article on the wiki.

I can really only speak to the Naruto series itself, and not Boruto since that series looks like it turned into some sort of sci fi, fantasy thing lol.

So if we are talking about the normal run of Naruto, I think the technology is pretty on par with the 90s - early 2000s tech that you would see in reality.

Health Care

Perhaps the Narutoverse is more advanced in medicine, but not in the same ways as our modern medicine. I think because of their ability to use chakra, they're able to fix stuff that...really would be irreversibly broken in our universe.

I think they would have a waaay easier time fixing paralysis from a broken back, reattaching limbs, and fixing nerve damage. Weirdly enough, I think that because their medical advancement is less "science" based and more "jutsu" based, they're actually super behind in treating things via vaccines, and so illnesses is not the thing to have in the Narutoverse. They probably have some form of superstition around anti-biotics, where most inaccurately refer to them as "antidotes." For example, I head canon that there's a form of "desert lung" common in The Land of Wind, which is a fungal infection. They do have the cure for this, which are anti-fungals, but people always attribute the cure to an "antidote" likely because more research has gone into creating and curing poison rather that microscopic living organisms, so the common person just doesn't know the difference.

They also likely have a lot less cold medicine and over the counter pain meds, mostly because there isn't much research in that field, but also because ninja tend to not want to rely on medication that could dampen their physical state....Like they would rather be in agony than take pain meds with drowsiness as a side affect, and unless it's something to help them persevere like soldier pill they won't take it.

Also:

Maternity care? Hot garbage. Mental illness awareness and support? Non-existent. Having your lower half separated from your upper half? No problem, bro, we got you.

Their advancement in things like medicine, vaccines, maternity and mental health care does improve drastically by the end of the series as countries begin sharing their research with one another.

Entertainment & Other Tech

They have things like TVs, radios, movies, VHS, Tapes and (believe it or not) cellphones. The cellphones, however, are like...nearly just bricks. They work, but signal is only ever good on common roads between villages and the call quality is grainy at best. Landlines, however, are a much better experience and they make phone calls all the time lol. Gaara doesn't keep a phone in his office because he has someone (like a receptionist) doing that for him.

TVs, movies and radios are pretty much the same as us, CGI is rare but puppetry and other special effects are amazing.

It's common to have TV but not everyone had cable. Very rich people have satellite TV, which isn't that great...Mostly it's just a status symbol.

Speaking of satellites, they do have those but space advancement is really really slow. Probably they have like 3 satellites up there for each country and there are probably hundreds more that just failed getting launched successfully.

Now as for satellites, they don't have GPS. Why would they? They can just use sensor type ninjas, so they are like "paper maps and raw instinct will do."

Travel

They have combustion engines, but they run off coal and are strictly used for navel vessels and steam trains; albeit both of these are rare. Mostly, they prefer to use electric sourced methods of travel (like their bullet train or whatever they have in Boruto) but that is super expensive and only for the rich in the beginning of the series. It becomes way more useful to everyday people after the war arc.

Weapons

They are probably on par with us. Sure, they don't have nukes but a person can blow apart a village with sheer energy force so...Do they really need them? Plus, letter bombs....crazy.

Anyways, I think guns likely do exist in the early Naruto universe, but they're suuuper bootleg. Like it would be pretty sketchy to try using one because they're just...not very well designed. Canons are much more common.

Conclusion:

They're on par with us...Better in some ways, much worse than use in some.

#gaara #naruto

[onyxheartbeat]

Diary entry, February 20th,

I went to see him because it had been three days. I missed him so much. I didn’t tell him I was coming, I think because deep down I knew he would’ve said today wasn’t a good day. I stopped at the beach first. There were so many people out there today, walking on the Great Highway. There were cirrus clouds, so I hoped maybe there’d be a decent sunset, if I couldn’t stay the night. The sun was shining. It wasn’t that cold, compared to how it’s been lately. I messaged him that I’d come and that I was at the beach, but he said he was having a bad day. He told me to give him 20 mins. I told him I didn’t have to stay long, although I wanted so much to spend the night. I walked to the water and let my feet feel that familiar chill. I listened to The Cure in my earphones. I still can’t believe that I’ve come full circle. I realized my love for this man while walking on that beach years ago. I lost my phone which was filled with his messages there. The ocean drowned our Saturday night conversations. It drowned his phone too. The earliest parts of our story are lost somewhere in those waves. I walked back to the Great Highway, and he messaged me I could come over. When I arrived, he had his frankincense burning again. I wonder if he truly loves the scent or if he’s simply seeking nostalgia due to his mom’s passing, or perhaps he’s finding a relationship with God again. It could be all of that. I was melancholy when I saw him. His energy was a little different. Still, it was nice to see him sober. I hugged him and I think he sensed that I really wanted to be there. I put the duck confit I’d brought him in his fridge and saw that the kitchen was much emptier. He said he’d been getting rid of stuff over the weekend; kitchenware that’s older than him that he’s had sentimental attachment to but didn’t want to move across country. We sat on the couch together. He was in a great deal of pain, not from his back or rib this time, but his left arm. We don’t know what happened. It was sore the last time I saw him and he’d been wearing a sleeve for it. I thought maybe he was wearing it to help with his shakes from the withdrawals but he says it’s a nerve or something from his upper shoulder down to his elbow. He says he’s experienced it before. I hope it doesn’t have any relation to his disease. Any left arm pain he has will always make me worry. We talked a bit, but I was quiet for the most part. I wanted him to pick up on my loneliness about him leaving and comfort me. For a change, I wanted to be the one broken and needing. But he couldn’t sit still, and kept moving his arm and getting up to walk around. He told me he was sorry to ask for a short visit this time. I acted like it was fine, but I wanted so badly to just lie down in the bedroom. He asked “What prompted the visit?” I said “I just missed you.” He went into how it’s for the best we get used to that. But I don’t see what good that does to build anticipation, or emotional preparedness towards him leaving. It will never make sense to me. I just want to be present with each other until the last possible moment. I held it in and just concentrated on his hand massaging my head. I put my head on his lap for a while. I wasn’t there long, but he did tell me he was sorry and that we would have another night together. “Hey,” he said, and paused to make me look him in the eyes to tell me that we’ll have another night. His eyes look much better. So much more clear and focused, but I didn’t look at them long. I think he was embarrassed by the pain he was going through. I also couldn’t look at them today without feeling an intense sadness about how we must part. It feels real now. It gets more real every day. It shouldn’t happen. He shouldn’t be leaving. I told him I called my ride, and we kissed goodbye. I cried on the way home. There was a pretty sunset in the rear view; golden with a little blush coming off the cirrus clouds. I just wanted the car to turn around. I wanted to drown myself in the ocean so I never live in this world without him again.

#diary entry #j

[female-buckets]

Is specialization the culprit?

One theory about why there's such a high volume of injuries? Today’s athletes are specializing in one specific sport at a younger age than ever before, which seemingly adds stress to the body and increases the risk of injury.

When a kid grows up playing multiple sports all the way through high school, their body and muscle power become more well-rounded as they’re using different parts of their body for each sport. But when kids solely play one sport year-round, they are often just strengthening the same handful of muscles.

"What we find in young athletes is if they are specializing too soon in one particular sport and they are playing too much, they are more likely to have overuse injuries," said Kathy Dieringer, EdD, LAT, ATC, the president of the National Athletic Trainers’ Association (NATA).

Bueckers played baseball and ran track before committing to basketball in the first grade, around age 6. Fudd also grew up trying different sports (soccer, flag football, dance, and track and field), but there was no going back once she picked up basketball at age 7.

The majority of college basketball athletes have been playing the sport since before they were 10. They join local recreational teams and advance to travel, club and AAU programs, while also playing for their high school teams. They play year-round for the chance to grow their game and get noticed by college coaches.

With name, image and likeness now part of the college athletics landscape, the incentive to play collegiately and be the best in one's sport has increased. Families are traveling across the country all summer to have their kids play in nationally recognized tournaments against the latest top recruits. The really good players are getting college offers in middle school.

Some experts say so much basketball and stress on bodies that are still growing heighten the risk of injuries later in life when these athletes reach the college level.

"We’ve all talked about it with doctors and specialists and people who do this stuff and said, 'Never in history have this many kids been so sheltered in terms of one sport and that’s it.' All year round. Almost like there’s no offseason," Auriemma said. "I don’t like it but that’s the world that they live in and a lot of kids, not just here, they go to college with pre-existing problems that now you gotta deal with. So, it’s just a different world and it’s unfortunate."

Freak accidents in sports are common, but so are overuse injuries.

Overuse injuries are caused when a body part — in basketball often the lower extremities like knees and feet — is constantly doing the same movements over and over again causing an inflammatory response, pain and loss of motion. Tendinitis and shin splits (often found in runners) are examples.

The best cure for treating overuse injuries is either reducing that routine movement or taking a break from the movement completely to give the body time to heal. Without proper rest, the overuse injury could worsen and become more serious.

Experts like Dieringer and Dr. Julie Burland, the Director of Research for the UConn Institute for Sports Medicine, agree that one of the main ways to prevent overuse injuries is to put off specializing in a sport until one has reached high school.

"There has been research to show that if you don’t specialize in sport and you kinda sample different sports throughout your youth ages, middle school, high school, then you are actually better off with a lower injury risk in college," Dr. Burland said.

When athletes play multiple sports, they’re getting a wide range and variety of movements. They’re switching between sports that are upper-body based versus lower-body based. Their bodies are getting a balanced form of activity instead of just falling into repetitive motion. With proper rest and time off also vital to an athlete's health, the NATA recommends young athletes only play a single sport for eight months during the year and get two days off a week.

Auriemma said there isn’t a solution for sports specialization. While he’s recruited multi-sport players in the past, it’s becoming less and less common.

"I don’t think we’re ever going back to kids playing two or three sports in high school and getting a chance to use other parts of your body," he said. "… There are still some kids who are doing it, it’s just not the average. It’s not the norm."

#this is so fucked up and AAU is fucked up #your career long health should be more important than your 1-on-1 skills as a 16 year old #ncaa wbb #uconn wbb