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#Might need more iron pills
moonstruckme · 6 months
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Hello! So, I was wondering if you could write poly!marauders with a reader with anemia (iron deficiency)? Where she usually doesn't take her pills bc she forgets or straight up just doesn't want to, so sometimes she'll stand up and will completely fall back onto where she was sitting bc she will black out for a few seconds or lose her balance?
Obviously, only do it if you wanna and feel like it!!! Thank you and have a terrific day <3
Sincerely, :]
Hi my lovely! Thanks for requesting <3
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 656 words
When Remus calls you for dinner, James races you to the kitchen, both of you shoving at each other and giggling like children as you pound down the stairs. He wins, of course (he loves you, but he’s not going to let you beat him just because of that), but when he turns around to gloat, you’ve faltered a couple of steps from the bottom. 
A glaze has come over your eyes, no less alarming for its familiarity, and James' heart stutters as you put out a hand, feeling for the handrail. 
“Babe?” James wishes his voice were a little less panicked, but for all he knows you could be about to keel over and fall down the stairs. 
You sit back on the step behind you, your hand slipping down the banister while you hold the other out in front of you as if to placate him. “I’m okay,” you say, though you don’t sound entirely certain yourself. “I just need a second.” 
“Oh, fuck,” Sirius says, coming around the corner. He pushes his hair out of his face. “Baby, again?”
“Sorry,” you mumble, blinking as though to clear a film from your eyes. In the kitchen, James hears Remus sigh, and knows he’s caught onto what’s happened as well. The tap turns on. 
You blink some more, your gaze clearing bit by bit until you’re able to focus on James and Sirius in front of you. You stand, too quickly for James’ liking, and he steps towards you, taking your forearm in one hand and using the other to support your lower back. 
“Take it easy, sweetheart,” he worries as you flounce dismissively down the remaining steps. 
“It’s fine,” you say breezily, “I’m fine. Just got dizzy for a second, sorry.” 
Sirius raises his eyebrows, arms crossing in front of him. They’re all familiar with this act. Anytime you black out like this, you pretend as if it’s a normal part of everyone’s day (or, if you can get away with it, as if it never happened at all) in an attempt to nullify your boyfriends’ worry. “You looked like you went blind,” he says. 
You appear a tiny bit sheepish at that, but it’s gone in a second. “It was a blip.” 
It’s clear you’re campaigning to move on and forget your near-fall and James’ near-cardiac arrest, but no sooner do you round the corner into the kitchen than Remus is standing in front of you. 
He holds your medicine in one hand and a glass of water in the other, and there’s no shortage of judgment in the quirk of his one eyebrow as he passes them to you. James feels for you; if Remus leveled a look like that at him, he might turn to ash on the spot. But you’re braver than he is, so you only flush, downing the pill with a sip of water. 
“Thanks,” you mumble, not quite looking at him. 
Remus hums, taking the glass from you and setting it on the counter. He curls a finger under your jaw and places his thumb on your chin, tilting your head up (Yup, James would be dead. Perished. Six feet under.) until you meet his eyes. 
“You set an alarm on your phone for a reason,” Remus says softly. “Start taking your medicine as soon as it goes off, understand? It’s dangerous when you don’t.” 
You nod mutely, and Remus bends, kissing the highest point of your cheek. 
“Alright, dove.” 
He leaves you there, looking somehow more dazed than when your vision had gone out a minute before, and starts bringing plates to the table. 
“Merlin,” Sirius breathes, he and James watching the scene from near the stairs. “He gets so scared when she doesn’t take them. She’s lucky he didn’t find some way to punish her for forgetting like that.” 
James scoffs, going to help Remus with setting the table. “I think that was her punishment.”
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stararch4ngelqueen · 6 months
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For the Jason drabbles, what about Jason conforting/taking care of reader while they are sick or even on their period?
We love a supportive man. What he receives he gives back tenfold.
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“Show me where, baby.”
His hand roamed along your lower abdomen, imagining the soreness in your tense muscles. The spikes of pain that riddled you bedridden during your most heavy days.
“Here?” He applies pressure, fingers rubbing circles down just under your stomach, along the spot near your hip bone.
“Oww, yes,” you whine, wincing from the pain before being soothed by his massage.
Jason knew what periods were. He knew it’s a natural thing women dealt with. He’s worked with women for years, alongside doing his own research on it during one time you hadn’t left your bed for a while, thinking you were sick at first. It was an.. interesting conversation with Babs over what more he could do to help that the internet didn’t tell him about those relentlessly heavy cycles.
Pain like this took a lot longer to be rid of than a heating pad would allow. Especially the good quality ones with different settings.
Or, if you want something different, something fun that he wouldn’t mind shoving into the microwave for a minute, he’d get you a heatable, plush teddy bear. Or a duck. Or a menstruation crustacean.
He had no idea what the hell that was until you showed him on the site. You received whatever you chose in a box nearly three days later from Prime shipping.
Don’t freak out about blood. Accidents happen. If you got some on the sheets, along his lap when he held you, or on the couch, he could’ve cared less.
He wouldn’t even point it out, if you didn’t know. If you did notice it, he’d immediately shush you in an consolation attack, hiding your shameful expression in the crook of his shoulder.
“Shh, baby,” he’d murmur in your ear. “Easy. Nothin’ I haven’t seen before. S’alright, it’s okay.”
With advice from Babs, he cooks a lot more iron rich meals for you a lot more during this time. Usually, it’s been a team effort. You cook, he cleans up, you wash dishes together. Vice versa.
This week, regardless if you suffer from irregular periods, he does it all. He’ll do it even if he was a walking zombie, he doesn’t care.
Jason will not, no matter what you say, let you lift a finger if he knows you’re in pain. He’s an expert of masking his own, he can tell when you do it.
This even goes if you’re not used to being babied, get used to it. You tend to him for weeks at a time in a single month alone, this is his way of saying thank you for it all.
“Bed.” Jason demands, not even having to turn around from his attention on the stove to hear your shuffling to the kitchen.
“But I’m—“
“I brought you a drink,” he replies. A cup of warm raspberry leaf tea sitting on your bedside.
“No, I mean—“
“I know it hurts, but you can’t take anything until after you eat,” Jason peers over his shoulder, seeing his olive green shirt loosely draped over your body. “Go back to bed, Princess.”
“Can I stay here?” You plea, making his shoulders slump with a sigh. Try as he may, your weakened state makes him more pliable to your every request.
Might as well, since you’re already up. Stubborn girl.
“Go sit on the couch,” he sighs, knowing a few comforters were folded up on the cushions. “Get comfortable, an’ stay there. Dinner’s almost done.”
Jason has pills, plenty of them. From plain Tylenol, ibuprofen, to doctor prescribed muscle relaxers, morphine, etc. All thanks to Alfred.
Broken bones or severe, suture required injuries would be the only times Jason felt complied to take them. He knew addiction, watching it first hand and being involved in it at one point himself. He only took them when he absolutely, positively needed it.
For you, if you needed something stronger, he’d give you half of one pill, or a full, single pill at most. No way would you ever fall victim to such a cruel, toxic routine. He’d keep them locked up, for both your safety and his.
After your said hearty, iron rich meal, you remained on the couch snuggled up together like true lovers.
His guilty pleasure during your period of vulnerability was how much you relied on him for comfort. Positions varied, but his most favorite would be your body laying in his lap as he lounged on his reading recliner.
A gray comforter over your shoulders, some fuzzy socks on your feet. The furnace you called your boyfriend leaving you nice and toasty, his hands settling along your hair and back, preparing to soothe and massage when needed.
He adored when you needed him, he loved catering to you. You were his woman, his little nurse turned patient.
This also sort of gave him an excuse to skip out on patrols, but he never voiced the reasons why he’s gotten calls about it. He just didn’t feel like it, refusing the idea of abandoning you late at night, leaving him tense and unfocused on his routine on if you needed something, and he wasn’t there.
The others, with their detective mindsets could figure it out for themselves as to why Jason didn’t show up on a Saturday night. Or a Sunday, and definitely not a Monday.
He had important priorities, after all.
Just him, you; snuggly comfortable and content, and your herbal scented, menstruation crustacean.
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writer-by-the-sea · 1 year
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hello!! may i request something fluffy where a touch starved elliott is visited by a farmer who can’t sleep and wants to cuddle with him? they’re not yet dating, but there’s EXTREME romantic tension between them
Slightly BARELY NSFT, No beta, no spell check lol
The storm raged outside, the lighting illuminating my cabin, each flash of light shortly accompanied by thunder that roared so loudly it shook my bed. I sighed and stared up at the ceiling, the rain beating down on the roof and providing me with the white noise I would normally crave; but now I laid there disturbed by the storm and sleep continues to evade me.
I let my thoughts slip to the farmer… Weeks ago they told me how they can’t have trouble sleeping through the night, that they were considering pills to help them through the night. I couldn’t help by wonder how they were fairing this night. Were they just as frustrated as I? Tossing and turning under the covers and considering giving up and waiting for the morning?
All I knew was that tomorrow would be a day with many cups of coffee, perhaps even an espresso or two.
I leaned over, reaching for my bedside lamp, flicking the switch with well rehearsed practice— only for the light to ignore me. I blinked at the light, tapping the switching again, and then once more..
“Lovely,” I mumbled and stood. The power was out.
Near my desk sat an oil lamp, one that I preferred to save for emergencies; I suppose this fell into that category. I considered what I would do with my time now, writing coming across my mind. Although, as of late, anything I’ve written has only been conveying my sappy and desperate need for the touch of another.
For far too long I’ve lived in this cabin alone. Something I thought I would enjoy, but I find myself feeling more and more lonely as each day passes. These days it’s gotten to the point where I find myself starved for attention. I wander around town more often than ever, finding excuses to see the others (mostly the farmer,) and I go on to bore them with tales of my unsuccessful writings.
With my lamp lit, I found my way back to my bed, my new plan for the night to reread over my pages and correct any mistakes I come across. Forever I will misspell at minimum ten words per page.
I may be a writer but I am no expert at spelling, ironic as it may be.
Just as I began to settle back in bed, there’s a knock at the door.
Unusual, but it wouldn’t be the first time Willy visited in the dead of the night. He might be in need of some snacks if he saw Sebastian earlier in the day, or asking for help to shovel rain water out of his shop again.
I groaned and slipped out of bed, now giving up on my plans and preparing myself for Willy’s visit. A night of fishermen’s stories and tellings of his childhood. Not that I minded it, but I would rather relax tonight..
The knocking came again, urging me to open it and let them in. Part of me was tempted to ignore it, to pretend to be sleeping and leave Willy on his own — as rude as it may be.
But then—
“Elliott?” A voice called from outside my door, helpless and scared.
I ran to the door, flinging it open to reveal the farmer standing there. Drenched from head to toe, but still smiling as I greeted them. “Oh my goodness!” I cried and stepped back, opening the door even further and ushered them inside. “You must be freezing! Please, come inside!”
The farmer quickly ducked in, wasting no time in kicking off their boots and closing the door behind them. “I’m sorry to drop by so late,” they began and removed their jacket. “I just—“
“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked and took their jacket. I hung it and then offered a towel.
They gave me a sheepish smile, nodding and accepting the towel. “Did I wake you?”
I waved them off. “No worries, I was awake. I couldn’t sleep either.”
“Is it okay if… I stay here a while?”
I could tell they were embarrassed to ask, scared even as they avoided my gaze. If not for the cold weather outside, I would think they were hiding heated cheeked. But that may have just been wishful thinking. “Of course!” I replied. “Stay as long as you like—“ I paused, looking over their drenched clothes and uncertain on how to phrase my next words. “Do you… perhaps need a change of clothes?”
The farmer looked down again, chewing their bottom lip and twisting their hands in front of themselves. “I don’t want to be a burden—“
“Nonsense!” I rushed to my dresser, plucking a few of my clothes out to present them. Mostly oversized clothing, things I haven’t worn in ages but I knew would be comfortable and warm. It would definitely be better than what they wore now, anyway. “Let me know if these are okay,” I said and handed the clothes over. “You can change in the bathroom if—“
“Thank you!” The farmer replied and took the offered clothing….
And then began to strip before me.
I gasped and spun around, heat flooding my cheeks from what I’d saw so little of. Soft, supple skin… A few minor scars across their body, no doubt from the farm and the mines… How I wished to turn back around and take them into my arms, to kiss every scar, to lick every curve, to worship and adore their body just as they deserved.
I held myself back, taking a breath and moving to my bed to readjust the blankets and pillows. I wasn’t sure what tonight would bring, I wanted to keep my hopes low but—
“You can turn back around.”
They stood there, my sweater hanging off one shoulder and my old pajama pants hanging low on their waist. “Sorry about that,” the farmer mumbled. “I was actually really cold and started changing without thinking.”
“It’s no problem.” I chuckled and took their wet clothes from them, moving to hang them in my bathroom. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
Once in the bathroom, I closed the door behind me. How could they look so adorable in my clothing….
I slowly hung their clothing, willing down the urge to run back out and pull the farmer into my arms. To compliment them on how cute they looked, to kiss across their exposed skin and slip my hands under the sweater they wore. To lead them into my bed and remove their borrowed clothing piece by piece—
“Fuck,” I whispered and stared down at the shirt I held. I forced myself to hang it up with everything else.
Tonight, the farmer came to me for a place to relax. For a place to hide out the storm. For a place they knew they could trust without a starving writers wandering hands all over their body. Their perfect, gorgeous, sexy, strong body.
I shook my head and stepped out of the bathroom, ready to chat with the farmer about the weather, about the night sky, about everything but my cravings to just touch them. But all of the words fell out of my mouth.
They laid in my bed, under the covers and flipping through one of my books from the library. The light of my lantern dancing across them, their beauty freezing me in place. A fantasy I’ve dreamt of a million times, only now I could do nothing. My breathing unsteady, the palms now sweaty, my throat dry and all words failing me as I let my eyes trail over them.
The farmer noticed me and scooted to the side of my bed, pushing themselves into the wall before patting the empty side. “It’ll be warmer under the covers,” was all they said before they looked back down at the book. A book that only detailed the secret to ‘writing an award willing novel.’ Something I knew they wouldn’t actually be interested in but…
I climbed into the bed and slid under the covers, biting my tongue when my leg brushed against their own. This couldn’t actually be happening, right? There was no storm outside and I was simply in a very deep sleep. If not for the warmth coming from the farmer, I may have actually believed I was dreaming…
The farmer leaned towards me, their head coming to rest on my shoulder, their book now closed and forgotten in their lap. I kept my eyes forward, my hands turning to fists as I let the weight of their head settle upon me. “This is nice,” they whispered and snuggled in a little further, one of their hands going to lap on my arm. “Do you mind?”
“No,” I muttered back, gulping as they shifted even closer, their arm now laying across my chest as they got more comfortable. “I— I don’t mind.”
My body felt like it was being doused in flames, feeling more aware than ever of everything around me. The rain coming back to my mind, softer than before as it fell across the roof, the thunder still rumbling outside but now miles away, the farmers hair as it brushed against my cheek, their arm as it laid over my fast beating heart, their thumb as it caressed my arm.
“I really appreciate you letting me come in tonight…” I could feel their breath across my neck, my body shivering as I let the feeling wash over me.
I took a breath, attempting to form the words. Their legs were on my own now, the farmer pulling me further into the bed and encouraging me to relax and our combined warmth made my eyes grow heavy.
“I’ve dreamt of this so many times,” I said, my voice a whisper as I finally gave me.
The farmer giggled, their laugh light and adorable… and bringing what I’d just said to light. “And? Is it everything you imagined?”
I sighed and wrapped one of my arms around them. “Even better.”
In the morning I would wake with the farmer still in my arms, their nose tucked into my neck and snoring softly. Our first night together that would become one of many.
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she-is-ovarit · 1 year
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This might be old or unhelpful information to some, but along with women needing higher healthy fats in our diets (avocados, eggs, etc.) and liquid vitamins potentially being life-changing (because the body only has a 10-20% absorption rate for supplement pills), dehydration can be a huge trigger for chronic fatigue syndrome.
We can get to a dehydrated point where we won't feel thirsty (which is easy to reach), and some of us might struggle with cravings, because we are thirsty but these thirst receptors aren't perfect (also, prior to us being able to develop drier foods, most foods had water content in them so it's intuitive that our bodies do this). We live in an age where we can't unfortunately trust our water sources due to environmental pollution, and where the workplace might not accommodate healthy hydration (or frequent peeing). What I do to limit how much I pee and increase how much fluid I retain is to add those little electrolyte packets to my bottled water.
If your mind feels laggy or jumbled, if you feel too weak to get out of bed, if you're tired like all the time, if no matter how much sleep you get you still feel tired, if you have cold hands and feet, anxiety, and if you have memory issues - these are all signs of chronic fatigue and women experience it more than men. It's a complex chronic condition that is debilitating and not taken seriously at all, and there can be numerous triggers to it. I mentioned not obtaining enough healthy fats above or proper vitamin levels (especially iron and vitamin Bs), and these issues can trigger the above symptoms of chronic fatigue. Dehydration is another big trigger, and it's why we might especially experience these symptoms a few hours or a day after exercise or after drinking alcohol. Take care of yourself, pound water.
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sh0tanzz · 1 month
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seunghan as your bf and ideal type please
SEUNGHAN AS YOUR BF ~ based off astrology obsv.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
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Libra Sun: ofc this man has venusian influence do you see how fine he is. He's super charming and flirty and most def has a way with words with you since paired with a charming libra sun he has mercury in virgo which makes it exalted (meaning the placement is well expressed). He has sun square saturn which can possibly make him a big perfectionist towards both himself and you as well. His sun is trine neptune so hes VERY sensitive or on the more emotional side. Might also try to make his relationships have a "dream" like quality to them (even situationships)
Sagittarius Moon: literal happy pill. He'd enjoy feeling "free" in a relationship and for there to be extreme trust and for things not to be too possessive or would prefer if there wasn't much jealousy from his s/o (would probs be better with someone who isn't too sensitive). Would want to party and have lots unlimited fun with his s/o. I've noticed every dude I met with a sag+libra influence are super into smiles and nice teeth so that would probably be something he consistently compliment you about. Might suffer from impulsiveness when the relationship seems too stable and will "shake things up" Would definitely tease+make fun of you especially paired with that virgo mercury. Might run away from his problems/feelings if they're too severe or intense in the relationship. His moon is trine jupiter so once again an indicator of him using his feelings to navigate the relationship
Virgo Mercury: His mercury is exalted which means the planet expresses itself pretty well and properly compared to its detriment/fallen counterparts. He's a pretty good communicator which is lowkey ironic since he avoids conversational conflict but..having an exalted mercury (paired with a libra sun) he might be super good at talking himself out of/diffusing arguments with you. Pays attention to the small details and points of what you say; similar to Shotaro he remembers A LOT about you, things you've said, the things you love. Could be a little critical once again, might tell you where you fucked up but will try to be funny and lighthearted about it since his moon is in sag. His mercury is square pluto which also explains that he CAN communicate but sometimes he feels like words are too much and would rather be affectionate to show his feelings. Like if he missed you on an extreme level he'd prefer to just lay in bed with you holding you tight until you both fell asleep.
Libra Venus: has luck with the ladiesss most definitely. the headcanons of having to deal with girls approaching seunghan might be true I fear. but with the right person he’d have a good sense of devotion. Gloats to his friends about how pretty, perfect and attractive you are and probs enjoys people being jealous of him for having you (similar to sungchan). Dates would be a balance of idealistically romantic dates but combined with simple super fun dates like you two trying new things together or even going out partying/drinking together as a pair. Lowkey might constantly bring up how you two “compliment” each other or “balance each other out” or maybe even people outside of the relationship may think so. Would be super into gift giving and physical touch as love languages. Would love getting/giving expensive high quality gifts. Venus is sextile Pluto so he likes romantic/sexual intensity and control !!
Pisces Mars: Tries to be on the middleground especially since his sun/venus is in libra so he'd most likely be passive and indirect when it came to disagreements and arguments. Would try to subdue the situation rather than actually talk it out. He might even use affection or buttering you up to end the conflict ngl LMMFFAOOO. Imo he might need a more mature partner to help him actually participate in hard conversations. His mars is conjunct Uranus and that paired with his sag moon he might once again be pretty impulsive and do/say things just for the sake of it like imagine he suddenly does something risky as fuck with you in public and then when you ask him about he'd be like "wdym bae 😗". Also has mars square lilith so ngl...he'd try to use physical affection after an argument or upsetting you to make you feel better PLEASEEEE.
Authors Note: Sorry for the lack of answered requests I have 45 in my inbox and have been swamped at work LOL
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teenfamedr · 7 months
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Real Skincare Guide
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Level 1: breakouts, non-painful, a little scarring
Minimize your skincare routine, all you need is an oil cleanser (if you wear a lot of makeup) than a good foam cleanser, moisturizer, and sunscreen. Repeat the same routine before bed just without the sunscreen.
Wear sunscreen everyday!!!
Always apply more moisturizer than you think you need.
Drink a lot of water (2-3LT)
Get consistent sleep
Take a multi vitamins to balance your hormones. I recommend the One-A-Day Woman’s Vitamins (get a real pill cause the gummies don’t have enough iron)
Work on your stress (breathe work, meditate, journal, yoga, walks, going out with friends, therapy, etc)
Look at what body oils/shampoo/conditioner you are using. Could be your akin reacting poorly to something in there.
Level 2: consistant breakouts, acne, scarring
All the stuff for Level 1 apply.
Minimize your skincare routine and than slowly add back in stuff like hydrochloric acid and retinol. Having an elaborate skincare will just make your skin worse. First, focus on healing your skin barrier.
If you are a teenager, it just might be your hormones/growing pains. It will go away eventually.
Pimple Patches work and are especially good if you are trying to stop touching your face.
Wash your pillow cases every 1-2 weeks.
Try to sleep on your back.
If you pop a pimple than apply an antibiotic ointment.
No point in using anti-aging products if you are under the age of 25. It just won’t do anything for you.
Note that if you take in a lot of nicotine you will breakout. If you smoke and you have bad skin, it probably won’t improve unless you quit or lessen the dosage.
Level 3: painful consistent breakouts/acne/scars, redness, irritability, hurts,
Go see a dermatologist!
Acne is can be a real problem. If your acne is painful seek professional help.
If Accutane is recommended, than I would do it. Based only on the experiences of my friends, I have seen great results after a couple months. There are side effects and it is not for everyone but if a professional says you should than I might consider it.
No topical treatment is going to make those scars go away. You are going to need to laser resurfacing which is like this secret treatment rich people do to clear up their skin. It is expensive but really works. Beauty brands want you to think that the right cream can clear up your skin but if you have bad scarring you are only going to see real results with laser treatments
All of the above recommendations still apply
Your acne does not take away from your beauty or your worth as a human being. Remember that acne is normal and social media is fake.
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Product Recommandations:
Disclaimer: Not every product will work for every skin type. Do your research for what will be beat for you!
Korean skincare! It is reliable to buy from yesstyle or Olive young. Don’t buy on amazon. (Japanese skincare is good too)
AESTURA Atobarrier 365 Cream
Ma:nyo Pure Cleansing Oil
Ma:nyo Bifida Biome Conplex Ampoule
Beauty of Joseon (sunscreen, eye cream, and serum)
Round Lab 1025 Dokdo Cleanser and Round Lab Birch Juice Sunscreen
Torriden Serum
KAHI Multi Balm
Anything from The Ordinary
CeraVe Daily Moisturizer
CeraVe SA Face Wash Cleanser
CeraVe Acne Foam Cleanser
CeraVe Resurfacing Retinol Face Serum
La Roche Posay spot treatment and soothing balm
EltaMD sunscreen
Soon Jung brand
Laniege Toner
Royal Honey propolis Essence
Aware Lip and Eye remover
TIRTIR- Centella Foam Cleanser
KAHI wrinkle bounce collagen mist
Real Calendula Toner Hyaluronic Toner Pads
Abeille Royale double R renew and repair serum 
Tom Ford Lip Balm
Rovectin activating treatment lotion
LA MER moisturizer
PanOxyl Acne Foaming wash
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cellophaine · 2 years
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Purified
Kinktober Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Warnings: Shower sex – unprotected sex, creampie.
Author's Note: You won't see any of the Daredevil suit in my Kinktober (not that it's bad) because I believe in BLACK SUIT SUPREMACY 😤🙌
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GIF credit: @daredevil---love
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Propping yourself on your elbow, you blinked slowly as the movie before you came to an end. The credits rolled, and you didn’t feel any more sleepy than you did two films ago. You heaved a long and weary sigh, adding another sleepless night to your mental scoreboard. Prescribed pills helped, but you didn’t want to depend on them too much like you used to. Nevertheless, what you had switched to was far more addictive. Or rather, someone else. 
How ironic.
The door to the rooftop opened, making way for heavy and unhurried footsteps to descend the stairs. The treads bowed under the added weight, creating creaky sounds all the way down. You sprang up from the couch and met Matt at the bottom of the stairs. The neon light from the building across covered him in a sheer lustre of blinking colours, revealing just enough of the blood splattered on his neck and the bottom half of his face. 
Matt was breathing hard while you kept yours as quiet as you could. It wasn’t out of fear that he might hurt you but of anticipation for what he wanted from you. An embrace? Some means of release? Bandages and ointment? Silence and comfort? Whatever it was, you were always happy to provide.
Matt had made up his mind when he crossed the remaining distance between you, pulling you towards him. Your lips clashed in a dance, gentle but fervent, full of desperation. To be closer, to be consumed whole. To feel the gentle friction instead of the blunt force of skin on skin. To forget.  
You were worried for him but allowed yourself to go with the flow for a moment. He was here with you, his heart beating thunderously underneath your palm. Matt didn’t seem to be injured with the way he rushed to rid of the black suit. You helped him peel the shirt off his back, which was drenched with sweat and damp blood. Your hand reached for the belt while he worked to remove the satin nightgown you wore. You tugged his pants down, making the makeshift batons clatter onto the floor. Matt stepped out of the pants, and you took him by the hands, leading him into the bathroom.
You turned the light on and took him in fully under the fluorescent light. He was panting hard, his breathing shaky, his lips swollen and red, his eyes wide and unblinking. The specks of blood decorated his skin was smudged, and your gaze moved down to find no major injury to your relief, just some bruises. You stared at where you connected to see the crimson stain on your and his hands. You didn’t have to say anything, and neither did he. You knew what he needed. Leading him into the shower, you turned on the water, letting it fall on the warmer side. 
Standing under the spray, Matt let you gently scrub away the evidence of the night. Your hands washed away the sweat and dirt in his hair with his unscented shampoo, the grimes and blood on his skin with your soothing body wash. You smoothed your palms over the bruises when Matt dipped his head to nuzzle your neck. You held him close, kissing his wet shoulder, letting him know he could take the lead. Matt lifted his head and sought your lips out. You eagerly responded to his need with all you had, feeling lightheaded in the steamy room. The kiss was a pure primal need, and you clung to each other as if you needed the other to breathe. You tugged at his hair, earning a deep groan from him. Matt moved to kiss your jaw, descending onto the column of your throat, sucking hard on your pulse to the point where pain and pleasure blended together. 
His hands braced at either side of your thighs, and in a swift movement, he picked you up. Your legs wrapped around his slim waist, your arms winded around his shoulders for balance. Matt wasted no time, lowering you onto his aching cock. The stretch drew a harmony of unrestrained moans from your throats, and you stayed like that for a moment when he finally bottomed out. Your heart was pounding, your walls clenched around his length. Matt groaned at the snug fit and needy squeeze, taking a deep breath and focusing not to come right then. 
After a long moment, his hands moved from your thighs to grab your ass, moving you up and down on his cock. You tried to assist him with small swivels and grinds of your hips. The room was steamy from the running water and your shared breaths, tangling in an intricate web of moans and cries. 
Matt pressed you to the misted tiles on the wall and began to set at a brutal pace. You clung to him as a fresh wave of pleasure hit you; your legs fought for purchase around him. You tilted your head down to pull him into a kiss with the water running over you, between your open mouths. You couldn’t last much longer, and he knew it. His head burrowed into your neck, and his thrusts became brutal, almost punishing. All that came out of you were meaningless babble and pitiful sobs. Your brain had turned to mush; all you could think of was Matt and the feeling of his cock in your tight cunt. It was pure greed, the way your walls held onto him, fluttering around him like he was the only thing that mattered. The only one you had ever known. You screamed as you came, and Matt followed after a few pumps with a broken groan. You held still, feeling the tiles digging uncomfortably onto your back, but you didn’t want his throbbing cock to leave you empty just yet. You tiredly caressed his hair, making him almost purr in bliss. Matt pulled out slowly and gently, making you wince at the loss. You felt the trickle of release run down your thighs, joining the warm water to the drain. He set you down onto your shaky legs but held onto your waist to keep you steady. Still catching your breath, you finally spoke for the first time since Matt returned.
“Are you okay?”
The small smile he gave you was a blessed sight. Matt closed in, pressing a tender kiss on your cheek.
“I’m much better now. Couldn’t sleep?”
“Mm hm. I was waiting for somebody to wear me out.”
He smirked, and the thoughts that followed in your head were sinful enough to make a sinner blush. 
“Oh yeah? How about we continue this in the bedroom?”
Your answer was a breathy whisper into his parted lips. 
“Yes, please.”
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foreverdolly · 1 year
Note
Dolly’s 2.5k Sleepover Celebration !!!
congratulations on 2.5k! you’re so deserving of it baby 💗 !
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
for my request: i would like daddy!dom elvis, number 12, number 55, and soulmates trope!
“I had a dream about you last night” and “I’ve never done this before…”
𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 | 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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prompts: "i had a dream about you last night" and "i've never done this before. . . " with the soulmate trope.
word count: 2.1k
song: power of my love - elvis presley
notes/warnings: this is 70s elvis, so there is a brief mention of pill abuse. i might have taken a different direction than what you wanted, but i know that you're a hopeless romantic and thought that you might have enjoyed this a lil bit more. i hope you like it!
She was always so lovely. Big eyes and a beaming smile that made him melt like morning frost. She was the woman of his dreams- the one that made him fall in love without even knowing her. That was what a soulmate was supposed to do though, right? Make you fall instantly. He felt connected to her, almost as though there was this invisible string that connected the two of them. Elvis remembered the first time he told his parents about the dreams. His father was happy for him: Elvis had his passion with music and a newfound goal, which was to find her. 
She was always so lovely. Big eyes and a beaming smile that made him melt like morning frost. She was the woman of his dreams- the one that made him fall in love without even knowing her. That was what a soulmate was supposed to do though, right? Make you fall instantly. He felt connected to her, almost as though there was this invisible string that connected the two of them. Elvis remembered the first time he told his parents about the dreams. His father was happy for him: Elvis had his passion with music and a newfound goal, which was to find her. 
The same way that Vernon had found Gladys on that hot summer day during a church revival. Two months later they were skipping town, borrowing a ten dollar bill from their friend just to get married.  
“She was four years older than me. . . but I didn’t care ‘bout that none. She was the girl I’d been dreamin’ ‘bout all’a my life- and there she was, starin’ at me from across that ole’ linen tent. She was real. And she was mine. If I could’a married her right then. . . I would have.” 
Gladys wasn’t as happy for her son as Vernon had been. The “dreams” meant that he was growing up. He was shedding the skin of his boyhood, a reminder to his mother that Elvis wasn’t going to stay her baby forever. 
The bout of insomnia started right after he joined the military. It was ironic- in a macabre kind of way though. The only times he felt true happiness was when he was sleeping, and yet he barely got any shut eye. That was when the addiction started, he thinks. Most nights he couldn’t drift off at all without the help of a pill. He needed to see her to stay sane. He kept the bad habit up once he got back to Memphis, and without his mother there to scold him, there were no consequences to his actions. There was no one there to nag him or lead him in the right direction. Because even if he was strung out on sleeping pills and opioids, he was still making money. 
And boy, was he making money. 
The nights got lonely with nobody to spend them with. The house was too big to be empty the way that it always was. It hurt his heart. When Miss Mary removed her apron and turned off the oven to head home, the solitude began to sink in. The hallways got darker, the rooms felt larger, and not even the sound of his piano could drown out the silence. 
Vegas wasn’t any better. Elvis wasn’t just sinking- the man was drowning. All he could do was flail his limbs out, clawing for some solid land to cling to. His mother was gone, him and his father often fought like cats and dogs, and the Colonel wasn’t the same man that he had been towards the beginning of his career. All of his friends were on his payroll, the girlfriends never saw him outside of who he was up on stage, and it felt like Elvis was nothing but a figure. It was almost like he wasn’t a real person. Sometimes it was hard for him to even remember who he was outside of the flashy wardrobe and spotlights. 
Without a microphone in his hand Elvis was just a man. 
A lonely one at that. 
But the woman in his dreams was still out there. She was waiting for him, he could just feel it. He watched her grow up from his mind's eye, and saw the way that time had changed her. The musician knew that he would be more than willing to settle for a friendship- anything. Just so long as he could have her. 
And then it happened. That. . . that thing. 
His eyes searched the crowd just like they always did, wanting to connect with all of the unfamiliar faces. So he sang from the depths of his soul, his fingers trembling as he gripped the mic even harder in his large palm. Elvis wanted to reach out to all of them, and for everyone to see him. 
Really, it was a cry for help. 
Because he was still just that poor boy from Tupelo. And while he didn’t have to stand up on a crate to reach the microphone anymore, he was still putting on the same sort of show. Just a boy and his guitar- destined for greatness. Reaching out for love and acceptance. Desperate. Hungry. Searching. 
And then your eyes met. And Elvis remembered his father’s words. 
“If I could have married her right then. . . I would have.” 
It all clicked into place. 
The singer forgot who he was when he finally stumbled off stage, tearing at his sweat covered scarf and heading towards the doors that led to the casino ballroom. Out into the crowd. He couldn’t stand to be away from you for even a second. Not anymore. Not ever again. He wouldn’t be able to take it. Jerry had to yank him by the back of his white jumpsuit, keeping him from being surrounded by a screaming mob. They would no doubt tear him apart after he put on a show like the one that he had just performed. He could still hear the women’s shrill voices calling out for him. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were one of them. 
“I-I need. . .” Elvis was panting- breathless. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the show or the fact that he had finally found you. It could very well be both. “Orange dress. S-She was in the third row. Bring her to me.” He was practically speaking in riddles, but Jerry knew better than to question him. 
The dyed brunette didn’t want to leave the side stage. He wanted to wait right there until Jerry had finally found her, but he was being gripped at the elbows and numbly ushered over towards the employee elevator. 
Everything after that was a blur. He was taking a shower by instinct alone, and the same thing with getting dressed. By the time that he finally woke up out of his shocked stupor he was sitting on the couch, his wet hair dripping into his eyes and onto his clothed shoulders. There was a knock at the door, which roused Elvis from whatever daze he was in. 
“E.P?” It was Jerry’s familiar voice that called out to him. 
It had the man bracing his hands on his long legs as he stood up to his full height, practically stumbling through the penthouse suite. There was a possibility that you had slipped out of the hotel before Jerry could find you. Or. . . or maybe you wouldn’t want to see him. You could have turned Jerry away, and there would have been nothing he could do about it. The fact of the matter was that Elvis had been in the public eye for years. He had traveled all over the state, so why was this the first time he had ever seen you? He would have moved heaven and hell just to catch a glimpse of you. . . so why? 
But there you were in the doorway, your small frame dwarfed behind Jerry as he acted as a buffer to introduce the two of you. 
Your hands and knees were shaking. You stood there and stared like a deer in headlights as Jerry spoke your name, motioning a hand between the two of you. Elvis repeated your name under his breath, trying it out on his tongue. Tasting it. 
“Do ya wanna come in?” Elvis finally asked after what felt like an eternity of just staring at you. 
In his eyes you were the celebrity, and not the other way around.
You straightened out then, your back rim-rod straight as you tossed a nervous glance up at Jerry. There it was again. . . the fear that you didn’t want to see him. He was terrified that this might be the last time that he’d ever get to see you. It had his eyes searching both of your hands wildly, trying to see if there was a ring. 
What would he have done if there was one? 
Die, probably. 
“Ya don’t have t’come in. . . we can jus’ grab some supper-” 
“N-No. . . I’ll come in.” Your voice was soft and sweet. 
It was his first time ever hearing it. While your face was familiar, everything else. . . that was all new. It would have been horrifically dramatic, but the sound of it nearly had him weeping. He swallowed thickly, nodding his head before closing the door behind you, shutting Jerry out. 
“You know. . .” It was difficult to breathe in his presence, and as you looked up at him you found it hard to look at his face for too long. It was one thing to watch him on television or have his posters up in your room. . . but to stand in front of him was completely different. He was no longer a God up on a grand stage, but a man. A man that was staring at you with the softest eyes.
 You couldn’t help but admire his undone hair, his long bangs wet and hanging in his eyes. He was even more beautiful like this. He looked just as nervous as you currently felt. 
“Now, there’s no need’a be shy. Ya can talk’ta me, promise.” His black velvet voice surrounded you. His blue eyes softened on your face. 
And you believed him. 
“I dreamed about you last night.” It was hard feeling this vulnerable. He was yours, so there was no reason to feel so ashamed of opening up. The both of you were like two sides of the same coin. 
His lips twitched up into a smile, and he was quick to look off to the side and pretend to focus on anything else that wasn’t your lovely face. 
“If I had gotten any shut eye last night. . . then I definitely would’a dreamt of ya too.” And then it was your time to look all shy, your cheeks warming with embarrassment. 
He could have devoured you in one bite.
Elvis took his time comparing your small size to his. He started at your hands, then your height- the way you only reached his chest. You were like a little baby- his baby. The overwhelming urge to protect you was difficult to fight off. 
It was animalistic. Primal. 
“I-I’ve never. . . I’ve never done this before.” You finally spoke up after the silence had stretched on a bit too long for your liking. While you were enjoying the fact that you were finally in his presence, you were beginning to feel nervous all over again. 
He was a famous musician, afterall. He had called you up to his private room. Despite the fact that you were a virgin, you knew what this must mean for him. Still, he blinked down at you in confusion. After a few seconds of putting two and two together he spluttered, his eyes widening. 
“I didn’t call ya up here just’a have sex with ya, honey. I might not look it, but my mama raised a gentleman,” He reached out and took one of your hands in his. The feeling of your soft skin against his own nearly sent him to his knees. “I-I’ve been searchin’ so long for ya. . . I just wanna talk to y-” 
“I want to.” You spoke up, knowing you weren’t going to stay this brave forever. You’d never spoken to a man in such a lewd manner, yet here you were. Letting him know that you had gotten on that elevator all the way to the top floor, all while knowing you were going to have sex with him. Knowing and wanting it. 
“I just need to know that you’re not going anywhere afterwards. I won’t be able to do it-” 
“We could get married tomorrow if you’d like. I know a guy.” It was his turn to interrupt. 
It was the hurried, nearly panicked way he spoke to you that had your lips turning up into a grin. 
And then a laugh escaping you. 
“My daddy married my mama after just two months. I’m not sure that I could hold off for that long. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you.” 
You.
The girl that he had loved even in his adolescence. The woman in his dreams.
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Supernatural, Season 8 Sam Musings (Ranting):
There are many things I love about Season 8, like The church scene in Sacrifice, or the four (four!) brother-hugs we get throughout the season, or the moments of Dean trying to take care of Sam (even though Sam fights it), or having side characters that I actually like (for the most part … not Amelia), or the good moments of bad-brother-communication (there are some), but what I absolutely hate is the sacrificing of character for "story" that we see in this season.
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So, shocking as this will be to the few who follow me or have read my thoughts (rants) before, but I’m a Sam-leaning brothers fan. And as someone who is Sam-girl adjacent, the beginning of Season 8 makes me ragey. Ironically, it was partially the "abuse" of Sam's character by the writers (among other things) that actually confirmed my tilt towards Sam because it forced me to think more deeply about Sam and his motivations. The writers also pulled some shady crap with Dean's character.
So, you can find my ramblings under the cut, if interested …
So, let’s tackle Sam's oft considered worst offense first: Sam not "looking for" Dean. What the actual fuck was this? I mean, I get it in theory; they brought Sam low in the start of the season, making him "betray" and "fail" Dean again, in order to high ten his rise to Savior Sam 2.0, but it was lazy writing, and almost unforgivable in two ways, out of character actions and failure to meaningfully explain said actions.
First, I’m sorry, but it’s just out of character to have Sam—Psychotic Without Dean—Winchester not look for his brother. We have so much canon proof of this that him not looking for Dean in season 8 is almost offensive. In "Faith" when Dean is going to die, Sam finds him to a "faith healer," and when it turns out another life was exchanged for Dean's, Sam obviously isn’t happy about it … but, I don’t exactly see him wishing to undo it either. In "In My Time of Dying," Sam is totally distraught throughout the entire episode because Dean is dying, even willing to embarrass himself in front of Dean by pulling out a "talking board" (or whatever it was called) just to try and communicate with him, and he wanted to save him so badly but didn’t know how. These two episode alone show us that Sam would not be okay with just "loosing" Dean, and that if Sam thinks there is even a hope of saving Dean, he isn’t just going to shrug and walk away. So, at the end of Season 7, if he thought Dean was still alive, the Sam we know should have been exhaustive,y hunting for Dean.
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Second, if Sam thought Dean was dead, which I think was what the show was suggesting but could have made it more explicit, Sam should have been going insane, as he’s done in the past. In Mystery Spot, Sam basically becomes a revenge-driven automaton, even stabbing Fake Bobby in hope of getting Dean back. And when Dean is killed by the hellhound in "No Rest for the Wicked," Sam is destroyed. Season 4 shows us that Sam tried to trade his soul for Dean's, just an instant trade, but the demon wouldn’t deal. We see that Sam was full-on suicidal after losing Dean, basically attempting suicide by demon, drinking and taking pills. If Ruby hadn’t intervened (for her own evil purposes, but still…), he would have gotten himself killed, not might have. When none of the immediately self-distractive options worked, Sam once again went into full-on revenge mode. Sam without Dean, or at least Sam without a Dean alive somewhere in the world, is not okay. He is desperate and frightening.
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Arguably, he’s not actually okay in Season 8 either, but his distress after losing Dean was too subtle, to the point that it almost makes him look a bit cold. So, to me at least, not seeing Sam very obviously fucked up, in some way beyond dating Amelia, over Dean's disappearance/death is a disservice to the character.
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On the other hand, if the writers just needed Sam to not look for Dean because the drama was just too delicious for them … more important than, you know, staying true to character … then they should have bloody well shown us why. And showing us Sam shacking up with a bitchy pain in the ass Veterinarian was not giving him anything like fair treatment or good characterization, or understandable motivation.
Now, the subtext is that there was more going on in Sam's head than, "Oops, I hit a dog and met a rude vet. I guess I’ll just give up wondering if my brother is alive and move in with this woman who isn’t even particularly nice to me." He even said that hunting had gotten everyone he loved killed, and he that just "ran," in the first episode of the season. So, to me, this means Sam definitely thought Dean was dead, but the show doesn’t actually make it explicitly clear, at least I don’t think so. And this matters because there is a big difference between thinking Dean was lost and not looking for him VS thinking Dean is dead and not trying to sell his soul (or something else mystical and dangerous) to bring him back to life. It’s actually breaking the cycle and healthier for Sam to believe Dean is in heaven, and try to move on, but the show frames his actions, through Dean and Bobby as this huge failure of character. Also, Sam choosing running away from hunting (which has gotten everyone he loves killed) VS giving into revenge and basic insanity again, while not healthy in its escapism, is actually better than becoming an obsessive psycho. So, not just the fact that Sam didn’t look for Dean that is the problem, it’s the execution of how and why he didn’t look for Dean, or lack of exploration around these issues, that I’m especially annoyed by.
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So, because we got what we got in the start of Season 8, my explanation to make it work, or headcanon, is that when Sam thought Dean was killed (not just missing) in the explosion of dick 😏, he utterly fell apart. As in, he collapsed in a heap and lost himself in his own head for a while. Maybe he even went a little insane again, sure that he was having a terrible hell-ucination again, even though Cas had supposedly taken his insanity onto himself at this point. Maybe he even feared he was still in the cage after all, and living through yet another nightmare scenario. So, Sam shattered. When he finally pulls himself together, he realizes he has two options, lose himself again in revenge and obsession over trying to bring Dean back to life, or give up the life that has brought him nothing but pain (and Dean, but Dean's gone now). So, he goes with the latter, thinking surly Dean would prefer that he try to live a normal, non-hunting life rather than utterly losing himself in suicidal behavior and revenge again … right?
What the show doesn’t bother to address either, and what many fans seem not to consider or care about, is that pre-Season 8 Sam has only had the devil out of his head for a matter of weeks/months at this point, and he’s still chalk full of fairly newly recalled hell trauma from being stuck in the cage with said devil for over a hundred years. Dean still wasn’t okay in Season 5, a season after getting out of his 40 year stint in hell, and the show addressed this pretty clearly, which is good. With Sam, the show doesn’t bother to remind the audience of his trauma or link it in any meaningful way to Sam's decision to give up hunting and not try to get Dean beck.
I think that’s the most unforgivable part of the first half of the season for me, not showing us in a way that, while some fans might still not consider it a good enough reason, the audience can at least understand why Sam made the choice he did. If the writers wanted Sam to make a decision that was not consistent with what we have seen of him this far, then they needed to show us why he acted differently this time. The show gave us a buttload of flashbacks (often not smoothly), so they could have very easily given us a few flashbacks of Sam falling apart, choosing to try to live without going insane over Dean, grieving his brother. We could have seen these things and still had time for him to meet and stay with a woman (not Amelia) for even, say, six months before Dean gets out of purgatory. Dean could even not be satisfied with Sam's explanation, or Sam could get defensive and not tell Dean how bad he was doing at first, so the brother drama could still be in tact, but at least the audience would understand Sam's motivations more. In a show where Dean usually gets the benefit of the doubt due to being our more regular POV protagonist, the narrative, and his protectiveness, it was a poor choice not to flesh out Sam's decisions more.
Season 8 was one of the rare times we actually see things from Sam's POV fairly often, and they wasted it on an unlikable love interest and half-explained motivations. The way the season is structured, it looks like it’s actually trying to argue that Amelia was the reason Sam gave up hunting (and Dean), but then it depicts her as incredibly harsh, annoying, and, frankly, not worth giving up Dean for. Giving Sam this particular love interest, one he has no chemistry with, makes it even harder to empathize with him because we (or most of the audience) don’t like her.
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The real reason Sam gives up is essentially that hunting cost him too much, and he was too broken to carry on after losing Dean. But, the emphasis on the relationship, even though it’s explained that Sam and Amelia were basically just two broken people pulled together by their pain, doesn’t do enough to actually make it appealing, or to make me buy that Sam even loves her. I get that the show isn’t on the side of Sam living a normal life, and that’s actually fine, but making the relationship so … lame just helps stack the deck against Sam.
Meanwhile, Dean's friend-who-isn’t-Sam is incredibly likable, so we sympathize with Dean giving up Benny for Sam mid season, but most of us have been waiting for the moment when we no longer have to see Amelia being grating all over our screens since pretty much the first time we saw her. Thus, Dean's jealousy, dismissive remarks regarding Amelia, and his casual cruelty in letting Sam think she’s in danger just to get him out of the way, have less weight with the audience because so many of us don’t like her anyway. Whereas, Sam's sudden hate for vampires when he’s always been the more sympathetic brother when it comes to monsters, feels like it comes out of nowhere. And he ends up looking like a dick because the audience knows that Benny is a good guy (vampire), even though Sam doesn’t. Dean is no less jealous of Amelia than Sam is of Benny, but it comes across as more unreasonable in Sam's case. And he seems to be the only one who is often considered to be acting petty.
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Here too, I feel the show does a bad job showing Sam's motivations. Sam has an instant hate-on for Benny, and his stated reasons are pretty much … he’s a vampire. And when arguing with Dean, the show has Sam bring up Amy. I mean, sure, Amy was a more recent monster and issue in their lives, but she isn’t a fitting Benny parallel, in my opinion. To me, Benny was to Sam, what Ruby was to Dean. They are both monsters: vampire VS demon. They both saved a brother’s life: Ruby saved a suicidal Sam VS Benny saving Dean in a land of Monsters. Both fought alongside a brother for a shared goal: Sam killing Lilith vs Dean getting out of Purgatory. Both monsters caused jealousy for sort of replacing the other brother: Sam chose to trust Ruby over Dean regarding Lilith VS Dean literally telling Sam that Benny (unlike Sam) has never let him down, and he lies to Sam to protect Benny. Sam should have brought up the mistake of trusting Ruby in their argument, if he thinks Dean is wrong to trust Benny. Of course, if Sam so much as said "Ruby," Dean would probably just fixate on Sam not listening to him back then. The thing is, looking at the Benny issue in relation to Ruby, it’s actually fair that Sam distrusts Benny. Of course, i do I think he’s also jealous and feels guilty.
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Anyway, the season then sort of tries to make up for Sam being hard to sympathize with, by making Dean be straight up cruel to him a few times, which I don’t love either.
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darkjimxn · 9 months
Text
Chapter 1: So High [M]
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Summary: “A manwhore and a junkie… it’s a match made in heaven.”
Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader
Genre: High School au, angst
Word Count: 6k
Warnings: 18+, substance use disorder/drug addiction, PTSD, child abuse, sexual content (not explicit), additional warnings might be added as story progresses.
A/N: I swear I spent like a month researching to make sure everything is as accurate as possible, but if you’re more experienced in this topic and see some inaccuracies don’t hesitate to let me know. Also, if you are under 18: do. not. read. I am watching you younglings.
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Just one step at a time Y/N, you're almost there.
You groaned inwardly as you continued to drag your feet along the concrete sidewalk, every bone in your body weighing you down like a heavy truck. Your muscles screamed at you to turn around and burrow back into your bed and even your mind was having trouble focusing. Overall, nothing but pure willpower was pushing you through the empty park, but you had to keep moving if you wanted these feelings to stop. 
So you pushed on. 
Ironically, the atmosphere was a perfect reflection of your mood. Despite how early it was in the morning, there was no prospect of the usual sunlight. Instead, grey clouds and an oddly comfortable hum caused by rainy drizzle surrounded you as you continued. It only made your muscles more languid and you almost caught yourself falling asleep mid-step several times. 
Thankfully, after what felt like hours, your gaze caught onto a lone figure on the other side of the park, rocking against one of the swings quietly. Besides him, the area was largely deserted, probably because of how early it was in the morning. Soon it would be filled with students and parents rushing to their schools and jobs. 
You'd be one of them, but for now, you had more pressing matters to attend to. 
"Yoongi," you greeted idly once you walked up to him. 
Yoongi, who had been staring at the sand below him, looked up at you with a scowl. His black hair was pulled into a half bun while it looked like he had gotten his hair trimmed. Today, he was dressed in an expensive looking black rain jacket that stopped at his knees paired with black combat boots. His silver cross earring seemed unusually dull in the rainy weather. 
"It's Suga when we're doing business," he corrected, pushing himself off the swing while eyeing the security cameras wearily. They weren't working at the moment, due to some renovations or something like that, so you didn't really understand the paranoia. 
You tilted your head lazily at his statement, "it's always business with us."
"Exactly," he frowned, shaking his head in regret, "if it wasn't for- well, you know- you wouldn't have even figured out my actual name, which is already annoying. So no need to rub it in."
"Nope, I worked too hard to get that name just to never use it," you smirked, trying to keep your voice light, but on the inside you were itching to grab what you came for, "so... do you have it?"
Yoongi's hand disappeared into his jacket's pocket and returned with a small white bottle just barely the size of your thumb. Why was it so small?
"What the hell is that?"
Despite your words, it took everything in you not to snatch up the bottle like some savage, but your pleasantries only went so far. The second the bottle was in your hand you didn't bother waiting for him to leave before you opened it and downed three pills on the spot. 
He frowned in response, "I'm low on stock right now."
It was always so typical of him to have such short and concise responses, and although you hated it, it was pretty helpful for when you were going through withdrawals. It was easier for your foggy mind to understand short sentences rather than a bunch of details. But you were going to need the details in this case. Yoongi hadn't been low on stock in a long time, which means something must have happened.  
At your expression Yoongi sighed. 
"Look, I think someone tipped the police off about me so I'm laying low for a while. In fact, the only reason I'm even doing business with you right now is because you're my least problematic client, which I appreciate... and also because I know withdrawal can be a real pain."
You hummed in response, barely paying attention. The pills you just took weren't going to kick in for another 10-20 minutes, so most of what Yoongi was saying was flying through one ear and out the other. 
"Anyways," he sighed, likely noticing your current state, "I'll get the payment after I get the cops off my back."
He hesitated before his next words but ultimately mumbled, "take care of yourself."
You lazily watched as he made his way into a flashy red car and drove off before you realised you should probably get going as well. 
-
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By the time you reached your school, you felt your focus sharpen as the Adderall you had taken earlier finally started kicking in. The black jacket you had been wearing, to hide your uniform from Yoongi of course, was hanging against your arm as you made your way into the school towards your classroom. 
Since you were a little early, the class wasn't entirely full just yet. Students were still milling around, laughing and chatting about things you couldn't care less about. It wasn't until you sat down in your seat when you noticed that your best, and only, friend was already in the classroom. 
Kim Namjoon, with his dark brown hair and dimpled cheeks, gave you a stern look as he noticed your presence. 
"You didn't answer my call yesterday," he stated as-a-matter-of-factly. 
That made you snort, "when do I ever answer your calls for school related stuff?"
"Because you're too busy crashing from all the drugs you take throughout the day?"
It was his tone more than his words that made you turn towards him with a frown. Namjoon has always bothered you about your... recreational activities, that's no surprise. But there was something about the rare harshness in his voice this time that had you taken aback.  
"I'm fine Namjoon, chill out."
But Namjoon seemed unusually persistent today and only his next words gave some insight as to why, "you know there was a death in my apartment yesterday? A guy overdosed on a ton of cocaine and died, Y/N, because he was doing the exact same thing you do."
You shifted uncomfortably to mask your uneasiness.
"I don't do coke," you joked, but Namjoon's face didn't waver. 
"So? Whether it’s Adderall or meth, the result is still the same,” he pressed further, "you know he was completely alone when it happened? And when his family came to the funeral, they barely even cared. Most of them said they hadn't seen him in years."
You scoffed, "Well, I definitely won't have that problem."
His expression softened, "there are people that still care about you, Y/N, but if you continue on the path you're on right now, I can't guarantee that. I don't want you to be like him. I don't want you to end up alone with nothing but a drug addiction."
You could hear the fear in his voice at that last sentence. 
"I don't have an addiction, Namjoon, relax," you said as you heard the bell ring. All around you, students rushed to their seats in preparation for the class, "I could stop if I wanted to, you're just being paranoid."
He seemed disappointed at your response, even a little angry.
"You're high right now aren't you?" He whispered. 
“When am I not?"
"That's not funny, Y/N."
"It's a little funny."
Namjoon's hand grabbed your arm in frustration as his voice lowered, "this isn't a joke, Y/N. If you're not going to take this seriously then I'll have to do things you're not going to like."
You scoffed at the threat, "like what? Tell everyone about it? How would you even convince them? I'm a straight A student that's respectful to all the teachers. Who would even believe you?"
"A simple drug test can change all that," he snapped back. 
Your eyebrow raised, "so you'd report me to the police?"
Namjoon's frustrated face morphed into shame as he looked away quickly. The two of you had been friends ever since you and your father moved here when you were 7 years old. He was practically your brother at this point. When he found out about your using around a year ago, he had been furious, but every time he tried, he just couldn't report you. Maybe it was because he didn't want you to have a criminal record, or maybe it was because he didn't want to hurt you, either way he's been ashamed about the lack of action ever since. 
Namjoon watched the teacher walk into the class with a mixture of guilt and anguish. 
"I should... If I really cared about you I would've reported you the first time I found out. Maybe it wouldn't have become so bad if I did..."
You quietly watched as the students started getting out their textbooks and homework. Namjoon's words, despite not being anything new, should've moved you. You should've felt a need to change, or to do better. 
But you didn't feel any of that. Even hearing about that man, that might even be foreshadowing to your future, didn't instill any fear into your heart. In fact, the prospect of that being your future didn't shake you. 
Honestly, you felt nothing at all. 
-
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The sound of the bell ending first period had never felt more relieving as you finally felt Namjoon’s gaze, which had been drilling into the side of your head the entire time, shift. Thankfully, he wasn’t in your second period class so you’d finally get a break from his constant worry. 
That allowed you to make your way to your second classroom quietly before settling down in your usual seat that was near the back of the class. You were even going to quietly rest your head on your desk for a moment, but the sound of three girls shuffling towards you made you realise that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. 
It was always comical how fast she approached you the second Namjoon was out of the picture.
"Y/N!" 
You groaned, preparing yourself for what you knew was going to be one of the worst five minutes of your life.
Kim Jiwoo smirked as she peered down at you, two girls, whose names you didn't even know, at her side. Today she had tied her long brown hair into a half ponytail, letting her side bangs frame her face. Most would call her pretty, but you knew better than to flatter a snake. 
"Did you sleep in a barn last night?" She laughed, tugging at a strand of your hair, "it looks like a rat’s nest."
The two at her side laughed as she gasped.
"Wait, who am I kidding," she continued, " your father couldn't afford a barn. Where then? The side of a highway?"
Another round of her friends' laughs filled the room annoyingly. 
"Don't you have anywhere else to be insecure, Jiwoo?" You grumbled tiredly. 
She simply scoffed, "what do I have to be insecure about? Your face is all the self-love I need. Everyday I wake up and am thankful my parents didn't give birth to one like yours."
That made you smile, "speaking of parents, how is your parents' divorce going? I heard your dad was found sleeping with the maid after church, again. Personally I think you take after him the most."
The two girls' eyes widened in surprise as they side-eyed a seething Jiwoo. At this point, the whole class had gone quiet, listening intently to the two of you. 
For a moment, a very dumb moment, you thought she'd leave it at that and make an embarrassing exit. 
But you were never a very lucky one, were you?
"My parents' divorce is going great, thanks for asking," she said suddenly, a snake-like grin on her face, "I'm just glad both of them are still alive."
You tensed as you felt her close the space between the two of you, "how are your parents, Y/N?"
As unaffected as you were trying to appear, it took a lot of self-control not to throw a chair at her face. 
But Jiwoo wasn't done just yet. 
"Oh my!" She gasped, hands flying to her lips, "I completely forgot! You don't have both of your parents, do you?"
You could feel her breath as she chuckled, but the smile dropped from her face as she came closer, "What's wrong, Y/N? Mother couldn't survive a little chemo?"
Distantly you heard some students gasp, while others laughed. It didn't matter, because none of them could stop you when you brought up your fist and slammed it into her face. 
Anyone that says violence will never be fulfilling is a liar. Watching Jiwoo crumple to the ground was all the therapy you needed. 
Unfortunately, that only made her laugh more. 
"You know, if you kill yourself, maybe you can meet mommy in hell," she laughed, wiping the small trickle of blood from her mouth. 
You just scoffed, hiding the second wave of anger by sitting back in your seat, "and see you there too? No thanks."
As Jiwoo stood, the door of the classroom opened, causing everyone's head to snap towards it. The girls swooned as Mr. Kim walked in with light steps. His gaze first fell on Jiwoo, who was standing over you, and then your seated form.  
"Is there a problem here?"
No one answered, either too afraid for reprimand or too immersed in checking him out. Mr. Kim Seokjin was the youngest teacher in the school, not to mention the most attractive according to the female students. Forget the girls, you were pretty sure you've even caught some of the guys talking about how hot he is. 
When no one answered he raised an eyebrow. It was clear he knew something had happened here, something that shouldn't have happened. But after a moment, he must have decided to let it go because he turned around and started writing on the board. 
"Please go back to your seats everyone and turn to page 237."
You watched as everyone scrambled to their desks, except for Jiwoo of course, who gave you a condescending smile first. That was the one thing you could respect about her, she knew how to take a punch without being a whiny baby about it. The two of you had been at each other's throats for as long as you could remember. The rivalry between you was always so excessively vicious because you were cousins, meaning you knew a lot more about each other's familial secrets compared to the other students. In fact, now that you think about it, you probably exposed her parents' divorce to the class. But you'll take it as payback for yesterday, when she tripped you in the hallways and almost broke your head against one of the lockers. 
Mr. Kim continued to speak about the lesson, which you were completely focused on thanks to the pills you had taken this morning. 
Well, that was until you heard distracting whispers behind you. 
"Who's that?" A male voice whispered, seemingly to someone beside him. 
Another voice answered in the same manner, "oh yeah, you just transferred from class A, right? You don't know about the drama here. Those two have been at each other's throats since forever."
The first voice chuckled, "I don't care about that. Who is she?"
"Um," the second voice paused, as if confused, "you mean her? That's Kim Y/N... why? What's up?"
"She's got a hot back," the first voice said. 
You scowled as you turned around to face the voices, "this 'hot back' can hear you, you know."
You were met with two guys sitting next to each other. The first had permed dirty blonde hair, a boxy grin and intimidating eyes. You already knew him to be Taehyung. Although you'd never really held a full conversation with him, you knew he'd been in your class for a while. 
But the one sitting next to him wasn't as familiar, though you knew you've seen him in the halls before. His hair was a bright orange that oddly suited him, while his cheeks were soft yet structured. 
He was attractive, there was no denying it. But there was also no denying that he was the one commenting on your 'hot back' too, which you did not appreciate.
"Oh I know," he replied coolly, "is admiration suddenly a crime?"
"Go admire someone else's back, thanks," you said, turning back to the lesson being taught. 
But the whispers only continued. 
"Such a pretty face too," the orange haired guy said, and you could almost see him smirking. 
You saw exactly that when you turned around once again, but this time towards Taehyung, "could you put your friend on a leash?"
Taehyung, who actually seemed confused, just shrugged. 
"I'm Park Jimin," the orange haired guy announced, "what's your name, kitten?"
It took everything in you not to cringe at the nickname and instead turn back towards the front of the class, "not interested."
As you watched Mr. Kim turn towards the board to write something down, the sound of a pencil falling to the ground followed. You were sure Jimin threw one at you to get your attention, like some middle schooler might you add, but you were determined to ignore him, keeping your focus on the board. You could hear the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, a slight chuckle and even light footsteps. 
But a moment later you felt your back start to warm up. At first you thought maybe the classroom's heating had turned up, but then you swivelled around to come face to face with Park Jimin. His chest was so close to your back, all he had to do was move just an inch forward and he'd be pressed against it. 
With Mr. Kim still writing something on the board, Jimin went completely unnoticed aside from one or two curious students. 
But that didn't deter him at all. 
"There's going to be a party tonight at Taehyung's place," Jimin whispered, his lips close to your ear, "you should come. I'm sure you'll have a good time."
Just as his head lifted away from yours, Mr. Kim turned around. 
"Jimin, what are you doing out of your seat?" He asked, crossing his arms. 
Jimin raised a pencil in response, and with a start, you realised it was your pencil that had been sitting on your desk a few seconds earlier, "sorry, I just dropped my pencil."
Mr. Kim nodded and went back to teaching the lesson while you heard Jimin take his seat once again, still feeling the ghost of his lips near your ear. 
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For the record, it wasn't Park Jimin that had you driving to Taehyung's house at 10 PM on a Friday night. You had known about the party before he had 'invited' you and had already been planning to go. Of course, most students were attending for some partying.
And although partying sounded good, you had other intentions in mind. 
Your car rolled to a stop a few blocks away from Taehyung's house before you got out and started walking along the dark sidewalk. You could already hear the music and sounds of chatter from your current position, but you doubt anyone in the neighbourhood would complain about it. Taehyung's parents were the definition of rich, and messing with people like that was never a very smart option. The best they could do was pop in some ear plugs and wait the party out. 
"Y/N?!" A familiar voice behind you called out. 
Speaking of ear plugs...
You tried to fasten your pace, but Jiwoo was already in step beside you. There seemed to be no sign of the girls from earlier this time. 
"Where are your goons?"
Her reply was quick. 
"Where's your sobriety?"
You rolled your eyes, continuing to walk in silence. To your distaste, she didn't leave after that. 
"Thanks a lot for advertising the divorce. You know how hard it was to keep something like that on the down low?" She scoffed, actually looking quite annoyed. 
You raised an eyebrow, "you're really going to act like that after the chemo comment?"
"You started it. Don't act like some victim now."
It was your turn to scoff now, "you started it like 5 years ago."
"It was 7 years actually."
"Aww, do you have a calendar you use to mark our fights too? I'm straight, before you get any ideas."
"Oh screw off, Y/N."
Thankfully, there was a beat of silence after that. You cursed yourself for parking so far away from the house, but it was usually useful for when the police were called and they started impounding cars. At this point, you'd rather take the police than Jiwoo's presence. 
After a moment Jiwoo spoke up again, "I saw you with Jimin in second period."
She grinned. 
"A manwhore and a junkie... it's a match made in heaven."
You almost celebrated when Taehyung's house finally came into view. Without even bothering to look in Jiwoo's direction, you scurried into the house, but not before hearing her cackle like some kind of witch. 
You genuinely feel bad for whoever decides to curse their life by marrying her. Maybe she'll do everyone a favour and stay single forever, though you doubt she'd be that gracious. 
Even though it was relatively early for the party, the living room was packed with people. Students you recognized from school were chatting and laughing together while others played games and took shots. You were pretty sure you even caught one or two college kids here and there too. 
As you scanned the room, your eyes were naturally drawn to a head of bright orange hair sitting on one of the couches lazily as a girl sat on his lap with a smile. Jimin looked good, with a simple white t-shirt and ripped jeans. A silver earring, similar to Yoongi's, hung from one of his ears. 
For a second, you thought his eyes caught yours, but you turned away and started walking towards the kitchen before you could confirm. It didn't matter anyway, you weren't here for him. 
The sight of alcohol had you smiling. 
You were here for this.  
You grabbed a cup and filled it with beer from one of the tanks sitting on the counter. There were a few empty bottles of vodka and even wine sprawled around, implying that if you looked hard enough you might be able to snag a bottle. But you weren't very keen on getting too hammered tonight. 
While deep in thought, you didn't notice Jimin slip in front of you until he started talking. 
"Having fun?" He asked, a red plastic cup filled with a clear substance already in his hand. His hair was dishevelled and messy, like someone had run their hands through it many times, and a silver necklace shaped like an upside down spade hung from his neck. 
The necklace forced you to look down at his loose sleeveless white shirt, which did a poor job at hiding his toned figure. The muscles in his arm were flexed as they held the cup, making it hard to focus on the one in your own hand. You turned towards the kitchen's counter, trying to shift your mind to something else. 
But Jimin seemed to notice that, making him smirk.
"Like what you see?" He asked innocently as he slowly made his way towards you. When he finally came to a stop, he was so close you could feel the heat of his chest on your arm while his hand rested on the countertop right in front of you, "you don't have to look away, kitten. I don't mind giving it to you if you want it."
Your sharp gaze met his eyes once again, which were also a lot closer than you had initially thought. With his chest near your arm, his hot breath against your ear and his ruffled hair, you didn't blame yourself when you felt a hesitant shiver run down your spine. 
Park Jimin was a jerk, but god was he a hot jerk.
But was this something you wanted? Although you weren't exactly opposed to the idea, you didn't exactly want it either. It had been a long time since you last had sex, and the thought of doing it again with someone like Jimin, aka someone with a lot of recent experience, was kind of nerve wracking. You'd rather just get high. 
"Believe it or not, I didn't come to this party because of you," you said finally. 
"Oh?" His gaze lingered on your lips before raising back to your eyes, "then why are you here?" 
For the free alcohol, and hopefully free drugs, would've been your honest answer. 
"Why does anyone attend parties? To have some fun of course."
Jimin regarded you for a moment before replying, "there are different types of fun at parties. Which one are you here for?"
You shrugged, "not the type you're interested in."
With that, you filled your cup to the top before walking out of the room, eyes peeled for a dealer. Your talk with Jimin had heightened your desire for some fun, which for you was to feel nothing at all. All you had to do was find a dealer that would be willing to give you a sample. 
Thankfully, with your experience, finding someone was no problem. In less than 10 minutes you had found and flagged down a man that seemed much too old to be at a high school party. You chuckled inwardly at the sudden thought of 'cheating' on Yoongi with another dealer, but Yoongi wasn't always available, especially now that the police were on his back. 
After getting the dealer to trust that you weren't a cop, which was stupid considering your age, he eyed you with a more comfortable stare. 
"Okay, what do you need?" He asked patiently. 
You paused for a moment, thinking it over. You already had gotten some Adderall from Yoongi earlier today, and you were craving something a little stronger. But you were in the mood of something relaxing, not stimulating.  
Then the thought of heroin popped into your mind. You were always careful when it came to opioids since they're insanely addictive, but the last time you had some was a pretty long time ago. You were sure the gap was long enough for it to be safe to take it again. Besides, the feeling it gave was always amazing, like every cell in your body was relaxed and calm. 
You'd like that at the moment, and you told him just that. 
He excused himself for a second, rushing into a room before returning again with a bag of fine white powder. He held it out to you discretely, but not before announcing the price. 
"I want a sample first," you said, but the man shook his head. 
"Sorry, no samples."
That made you scoff, "What? How am I supposed to know if it's good or not? Besides this is heroin I'm talking about, not weed."
"Either give me the money and take it or don't. I don't do samples."
"No thanks, I'll look somewhere else."
You turned and started making your way away from him, feeling a bit irritated, but not very angry. You've never had an issue with finding samples at a party. You just seemed to have picked the wrong guy. 
But soon enough, after dealing with multiple dealers that refused, you huffed in frustration. 
"What is up today with you guys? Why is everyone suddenly so against samples?" You rambled to one of them. He just gave you a tired look. 
"Supply has been low lately. I've heard that the police are closing in on some of our harbour guys- uh, major suppliers, if you don't understand. A lot of them have had to lay low because of it, meaning guys like us aren't getting a lot of supply lately. We can't afford to give out samples right now."
So Yoongi wasn't the only one in a tight spot at the moment. Turns out a lot of dealers are suffering right now. That almost made you groan out loud. 
"So that's a hard no to the sample?" You said, causing the guy to raise an eyebrow. 
"Just pay up, don't be cheap," he said with crossed arms. 
"It's a party. Obviously, I didn't bring any money with me, I've never needed it."
The guy just shook his head and walked away, leaving you alone and needy. 
No samples. No dealers. You couldn't contact Yoongi at the moment either, which meant drugs were now out of the question. So much for having fun. 
You downed your cup of beer, though you knew the most it would do was leave you buzzed. You could always start searching for the vodka you had seen earlier, but your dad was coming back tomorrow and you didn't want to be dealing with a killer hangover when meeting him. 
While your mind did back flips trying to figure out a way to salvage the night, your gaze caught Jimin at the other side of the room. He was laughing with a girl, rarely taking a sip from his cup as he listened to the girl talk about things you couldn't hear. 
You've heard a lot of people say that taking heroin feels like having 1000 orgasms at once. Obviously, there was nothing else that could achieve such a feeling.
But there was definitely something that came close.
As if hearing your thoughts, Jimin's eyes, which had been scanning the room nonchalantly, fell on your figure. When you didn't look away, he tilted his head, almost like he was asking a question. 
Your gaze flickered to the staircase before landing back on him. Hoping he'd get the hint, you started making your way up them, not waiting to see if he was following. 
Asking for sex was one thing you would not grant Park Jimin. If he wanted it, he was going to have to be smart enough to get it. 
After checking in on a few rooms, you finally entered one that wasn't occupied with a moaning mess of bodies. It was luxurious, with a king sized bed wrapped in comfy looking sheets, a fluffy carpet coating most of the floor and a mini chandelier hanging overhead. 
It made you wonder what the hell Taehyung's parents did for a living. 
Before you could ponder any further, the sound of the room’s door opening and then closing quickly pulled you out of your thoughts, which was then followed by the sound of light footsteps treading carefully on the wooden floor. 
When the footsteps softened because of the carpet, you turned around to find Jimin standing barely a foot away from you, his gaze focused on your still form. Now that the prospect of sex was a lot more likely, you let yourself properly enjoy the sight of him. Your eyes first started with his body, taking in the toned muscles that peaked through his white shirt and then his thick thighs that were exposed through his ripped jeans. 
"It looks like you've changed your mind," he said, taking a step closer, causing you to take a step back.
But Jimin simply took another step forward until you could feel the cold wall press into your back. One of his hands leaned against the wall behind your head while the other leaned against the wall beside your stomach, caging you in the process. It forced you to focus on his face now, rather than his body. His orange hair was still dishevelled, framing his face perfectly. Despite the softness of his cheeks, his jawline was sharp, along with his eyes and nose. With how close he was, you could see every dip and pore in his face, yet somehow you couldn't find a single flaw on his skin. 
His eyes scanned your own body and face the same way you had barely a second ago, pupils dilating in desire.
"Can I touch you, kitten?"
Ignoring the nickname, your gaze travelled down to his lips, which looked so soft and plump. You wanted to know how they would feel on your skin, especially on your own lips. 
You nodded slowly before breathing out your answer, "yes."
Jimin wasted no time pulling you closer towards him. He let his hands run down your arms and rest at your waist as his eyes flickered between your lips and neck, as if conflicted as to which one to start with.
As he pulled your waist against him, his lips started on your neck, leaving behind light kisses that gradually became more and more heated. His hand rubbed circles against your hip, in an oddly reassuring manner, while his lips started to lower to your collarbone. 
Your breathing started to intensify as Jimin left open mouthed kisses against your neck and jaw. 
"I was hoping you'd change your mind," he breathed against your neck. A new set of pleasuring shivers travelled down your spine.
"Why's that?"
His hand, which had been resting on your hip, traveled upwards to cup your cheek, "I wasn't joking when I said you had a pretty face."
The hand cupping your cheek suddenly pulled you forward as Jimin connected your lips with his. They were so soft and plump as they moved against yours, causing your stomach to flutter in satisfaction. You never realised just how pleasurable making out was until today.
Jimin’s lips travelled back to your neck as he continued to drop heated kisses against your skin. You could still feel his hand rubbing circles into your hip while the other brushed against your cheek to hold your head steady. 
Feeling a little hazy, your hand disappeared into your pocket to bring out the white bottle Yoongi had given you this morning. As Jimin continued to wreck your neck in the most pleasurable way possible, you opened the bottle behind his back and moved it to down a pill or two. 
But the sound of its opening caused Jimin to look up until he eyed the bottle in your hand. 
"Are those drugs?" He asked suddenly, pulling away from you slightly. 
"No they're just Skittles," you replied sarcastically, moving the bottle towards your lips once again. But before you could pop even one pill, Jimin swiped the bottle out of your hand and chucked it into the trash can across the room. 
"Wh- Hey! What the hell?!" You protested, but he gently pushed you back against the wall.
"No drugs in the bedroom."
Before you could scoff he closed the distance between the two of you once again, letting his lips brush against your ear, "you're in my bedroom, Y/N. That means you follow my rules."
As if to make a point, he brushed his fingers against the inside of your clothed thigh, pulling a heavy breath from your lips. 
Your irritation soon morphed into pleasure as Jimin brought his lips to yours once again. One of his hands was still rubbing circles against your hip, but the other had moved down to your waist to pull you closer to him. 
“Why did you-” he paused at the sight of you as he pulled back for a moment. Swollen lips, messy hair, heavy pants… Jimin didn’t think he’d ever encountered someone hotter in his entire life. 
He cleared his throat, hoping you didn’t notice the pause, “why’d you change your mind?”
You took him in for a moment. His rust-coloured hair was dishevelled, with a few strands falling onto his forehead, while his plush lips separated to accommodate his heavy breaths. 
You shrugged. 
“I wanted to try a different kind of fun,”
“Fun?” He repeated with a grin.
You felt his hand circle your wrist before he guided you away from the wall. From this angle, you got to enjoy his back muscles peeking from his white shirt before he turned back to you. 
“Clothes off. Get on the bed,” he instructed, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it to a corner. 
“I’ll show you what fun is, kitten.”
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Chapter 2
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himeprincessa · 4 months
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Supplements and Vitamins to start your year RIGHT! 💖
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Warning: Make sure that the supplements you are taking do not counteract as this could lead them to be ineffective or even dangerous. Vitamins that interact tend to need to be space out by four hours.
Morning
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Iron: It is really common for young adults (especially those who are living on their own for the first time) to develop iron deficiency. Common symptoms are dizziness, a fast heart rate or brittle nails. If you have these symptoms check in with your doctor as taking too much iron can make you sick as well. If you are iron deficienct but don't have full blown anemia, you can take multivitamins that contain iron. These will help boost your levels and keep you full of energy.
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Allergy pills: TAKE ALLERGY MEDICINE!!! Especially if you live in an urban environment that contains a lot of trees that produce pollen. It is not normal to be sniffling, coughing and feeling fatigued just from natural air. Generic works just as well as name brand.
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Allergy Nasal Spray: If you are like me and your allergies are more extreme, I recommend a nasal spray. These can be prescribed by your doctor or bought over the counter.
Lunch
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Multivitamins: If you take nothing else, make sure to take a multivitamin! They contain the majority of vitamins we need everyday to function. So if you're feeling tired even after sleeping a lot, it might be that you're not getting the essential nutrients you need. This can lead to acne, fatigue generally making your body weaker. Make sure to look at the label to see how much daily percentage the bottle you chose has.
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Probiotic: One of the most important parts of our body is our gut. It affects our mental health and functioning of our physical bodies. Probiotics help introduce good bacteria into our stomachs as it's needed to keep it healthy. Probiotics can also be found in drinks like kombucha.
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B-12: This vitamin helps so much with energy! I started taking 500 mcg but I felt it wasn't enough so now I'm taking 1,000. It's always good to start with a lower dose of any vitamin to see how you react to it.
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Biotin: We all know how beneficial biotin is for looking good. It helps strengthen your nails, hair and skin.
Dinner
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Calcium: This vitamin helps strengthen your teeth and bones. It's typically considered a supplement you start taking as you're older but by then it's already too late in a sense. I also recommend taking the magnesium zinc version. On top of these two being good for you, they help the calcium absorb so much better.
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Fiber: OK I just ran out lol so here's a stock photo. Because most modern food is so processed we typically do not get enough fiber in our diet. Fiber is so important to keep our digestive system running. Adding 5 grams of fiber can make such a difference.
Optional
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Saw Palmetto: If you have issues from hair loss like me, anemia is so awful, this can help a lot. Depending on your body, it can either help stop the thinning or even help regrow it. However this is a herbal remedy that can affect your hormones. Thus, it can cause mental health reactions and should be used with caution if you struggle with it.
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Get Lit: This I bought on a whim from the Sephora sale! It is meant to help with both skin issues and your mood. It's the type of supplement where you dissolve it into water.
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roxineedstosleep · 1 year
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Hello how are you? Can i ask for headcannons of yandere batman/bruce wayne (romantic) with a sickly darling? Not bed ridden but their health is kinda on the weaker side? I always kinda wondered about that
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Darling doesn't really have a fucking chance of living independently again.
The mansion also becomes a mess every time the weather changes and the seasons change, so much so that even the city's cleaning companies offer him promotions for all the disinfecting work they do at Wayne Manor. The entire old mansion is refurbished so that there is always a medicine cabinet or something to rest in case you are exhausted.
Not to mention that the medical room in the Batcave is always well stocked and the telephone for an ambulance with a direct line is in every room.
Bruce, in the first place, would set up a whole room for his special someone.
Have you ever seen, either personally or in photographs and videos, those hospice rooms? You know, those permanent patient rooms? A room that is always clean, in neutral colours, with good lighting and ventilation; no overdone decorations and extremely comfortable sofas, beds and furniture. The kind that has handrails and facilitators on all sides, so that the individual can have support without the need or urgency of someone to be by his or her side.
Well, that's what the room Bruce designed for his beloved looks like.
Of course, he prefers to surgically clean his room every day so that his precious loved one is not far from him. But you can imagine what I mean.
Always, whether in his character of Brucie, Bruce CEO, Batman, or Bruce father and husband, he has in one of his pockets medicines and other things he feels you might need in case of a relapse.
He would always be at his beloved's side, offering his arm firmly, he would give you hugs when he feels you're a little cold, he wouldn't let you get overwhelmed by actions that could easily be skipped (why go to the shop and cross several blocks carrying terribly heavy bags, if you can order a delivery?) Going into a controlled panic when you notice that you've simply caught a cold again.
He would keep a medical calendar with all your medical records, he would take you to the doctors himself for your annual check-ups, he would ask his children to help him create a peaceful and calm atmosphere inside the mansion so that he wouldn't have to stress you out during your treatments.
Not that the dear one is bedridden. No.
Darling has allergies, like anyone else; occasionally gets the occasional muscle ache from overdoing things, like most of us; sure, they gets colds, but nothing that a nice hot cup of tea and an electric blanket won't fix. Yes, they also get allergies, migraines and cramps from extreme temperatures, but you're not going to die from them.
Even if it's really all down to a genetic factor that makes his Darling have to be much more careful than other people (like having a screwed up family genetics).
But Bruce doesn't get it.
Simple as if.
Of course, Dear, you must take a significant number (4) pills a day in order to remain stable. They're not even sick pills, just vitamins and iron supplements.
But for Bruce it's as if those four little pills implied one more nail in your coffin. He would have whole crises when he sees a used handkerchief near you, or when Alfred or one of his children notifies him that that day his special person lost his appetite or the food made them sick.
So pending, everything that could put a minimum of your bodily integrity at will be completely prohibited.
So, you should be lucky if it falls into their hands.
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mirith · 8 months
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I finished my tatting practice piece! (Pls ignore unwoven ends, I certainly do). It's now a cupholder because I'm not actually sure what to do when it.
Instead of giving my poor hands a break, I jumped straight into a spinning project.
I totally forgot what I was thinking when I started blending the rolags a few months ago, so... I made my best guess to finish them up and I think they turned out okay.
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I spun maybe a third of the fiber today while watching youtube. Very fun.
I have two other (knit scarf and crochet blanket) WIPs in arm's reach of my desk as well. But the yarn brain wanted to spin yarn, so I spun yarn.
Oh, did I mention I started a quilt a few days ago? The fabric is cut out (I even ironed this time!) and I'm excited to start piecing the top together.
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I love this fabric set. It is so cute. I chose a large block format so I could preserve the print more. Might be too big, but oh well. Maybe time for applique on the large squares!
I really want to hand-quilt the top once I've pieced it. The part of me that understands I could quilt the top on my machine in a few hours versus by hand in a few months is telling me no. But the insane part of me that loves tedious, time-consuming handcraft...
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The point is, there is not enough time in the day. Or perhaps the issue is that I simply need more than two arms. And to not sleep. And to start taking caffeine pills. Or maybe... Finish project before staring new project?
Nah.
OH ALSO I bought a temari book and a kumihimo loom. So. Yeah.
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she-is-ovarit · 8 months
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This is for all the younger gen Z women, particularly those of you within the ages of 17 to roughly 23. This is written from an American perspective, things might be a little different depending on where you're from.
I graduated high school with the unconscious assumption that certain systems will take care of me. The medical system would educate me on proper nutrition and health issues was probably my largest underlying assumption, but really I just had trust in institutions generally.
This isn't true. You are responsible for learning. As an example, I have been vegetarian since age 14. Nobody talked to me about proper nutrition, they just told me I needed to eat more protein.
I lived a decade of my life having shortness of breath, sleeping issues, clumsiness, cold hands and feet, having brain fog, extreme fatigue, heightened anxiety, etc. My period was extremely light and brown, it'd last for about 2 or so days. I'd go and talk about these problems, and telling doctors that I was vegetarian was one of the first things that came out of my mouth just with any visit because I knew at least that piece was important to communicate.
There was really no action taken over the span of about 10 years. I was told the period thing was normal, that changes for women. A sleep specialist let me know that feeling exhausted was also normal. The brain fog was probably due to anxiety. Here, try allergy medication (tbh that did help for other reasons). Then one day I just asked them to check my vitamin and mineral levels. Prior to this I didn't think you can make requests to doctors, I thought you showed up and they performed tests on what they recommended. With some reluctance from my primary care physician and some compromise because she said my insurance wouldn't cover testing things like B12 levels (I later found out from a nurse that, they would, she would have just needed to fill out extra paperwork), she did some tests.
I found out both my iron and D3 levels were low. What else could be?
I later learned pretty much all the vitamins common to be low for vegetarians were low. D3, magnesium, vitamin Bs, iron, and healthy fats. Bought some liquid vitamins (because the body only absorbs 10% of the pill supplements), began eating an avocado a day, my period became normal for the first time in nine years, and I am able to function.
Another example of how human systems won't educate you: I don't have feeling in some of my toes due to wearing incorrect sized footwear for years resulting in permanent nerve damage. I'm size 11.5 in women's, and I was relying on someone to tell me how proper footwear worked, because surely the guy in the minimum wage position working the footwear section would know.
Don't trust human systems to guide you through how certain things work. Seek specific specialists and experts when you can, and inform yourself on your own. Don't blindly trust search engines like Google, it's not like how it used to be when I was growing up and many millennial adults will tell you to "just google things" because we're used to finding actual substantive answers when we do. However, now, usually whoever pays is who makes the first page or two of search engines, it has nothing to do with what information is "most correct". Don't be afraid to request certain tests be done by doctors or certain referrals made to different specialists.
Edit: And also, I've found general practitioners are terrible when you walk in and tell them about several different symptoms at one time. They're more used to treating one symptom at a time, and they treat the symptom not the root cause. If you go in with a runny nose, general practitioners are going to throw medications at you to try and treat the runny nose, not look deeper into what's causing the runny nose. It's equivalent to if you're in a boat and it's sinking, they're bailing out water without actually fixing the hole or trying to figure out where it is, with the exception of emergency situations and even then it depends.
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bomberqueen17 · 4 months
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ok lol
after all that i didn't actually tell myself the story of what i have to do today
you see the hubris. i was like "i have described the problem huzzah" check a thing off the list move on.
part of the thing i was describing was how lists don't work for me. so like. in the text of that post was me explaining that i had to do a thing in order to function. and then. then! i didn't do that thing.
ok so today what do i have to do! a lot of it i have already done on sheer momentum but now i have been stymied by something and have to regroup.
i have to load and run the dishwasher, check!
i have to put in a load of laundry, check!
i have to go over to my own house, bringing a number of items which i had for traveling but which should not wind up at dude's mom's house, check!
I am going to bemusedly greet the electrical inspector for the town, who was supposed to be rescheduled and not come today, and give him a little tour of the things the electrician said weren't ready to be inspected, and he's going to say oh yes, I see what he was going for, he's done a lot of stuff already, isn't this nice, well I'll be back, have him call me when he's done those two things he didn't get to, everything else looks really good. This will derail me a bit, but I will persevere.
whilst at the house, i am going to cut out fabric to make my own not-quite-floorcloth to go under the microwave, since i want to put something there before i do anything else, and i hate the paltry shelf-liner offerings actually in stock anywhere in town, and i am too decision-paralysised to actually buy anything online rn. check! (finished measurements will be 26.5x23". I found enough white canvas for this, and have soaked and ironed it in accordance with the tutorial, but i am going to paint it and then sew it to an unpainted backing, which I hope will protect the shelf surface, as I don't need this shelf to be grippy since it's just to protect the painted surface from the microwave and whatever winds up next to it. So the backing is an old mostly-polyester sheet, somewhat pilled with wear, because i know that won't be slippery but also won't scratch the surface.)
I was going to then prime this canvas, but I don't... have any primer? This is false, I know I do, but damned if I know where it would be. I have to stop by a hardware store for paint chips and polyurethane anyway, so now I guess I'll get some primer. I don't think I need art store primer for this at all.
i have terrible acrylic craft paints but i am not trying to do anything wildly sophisticated. in fact i'm not sure what i'm trying to do. actually i could get little sample pots of a couple of the colors i'm considering at the hardware store, paint smallish swatches on the wall, and then paint this cloth with the leftovers, LOL. That might actually be the thing to do???
Dude might be annoyed if I'm swatching without even having consulted with him but 1) i know what he likes and 2) he's so busy rn he won't even put his plate in the dishwasher or talk to me about what groceries to buy so like, he doesn't have the energy to care, and anyway you can just paint right back over swatches and in fact I will do so, so whatever. Possibly the swatches will just give him something to disagree with but when you are as fatigued-in-general as he is, often that is the best way to get a decision made!
(heck what if i painted the whole shelf liner cloth a gradient between two of the adjacent swatch colors and then stenciled a doily over it in metallic gold that'd be a pretty sick shelf liner pattern)
ANYWAY the story of what else i have to do today is that i also have to go to the grocery store. so if i manage both the grocery store and the hardware store before noon i'm gonna be the fucking champion of the fucking world i tell you what. but that is my goal. i should do the hardware store first so the groceries don't have to sit in the car and get warm but that feels contrary because the grocery store is more urgent. but no, i'm going to do the hardware store first because i am a little bitch and can do what i want. and i won't forget the groceries after that. (famous last words, stay tuned to see if i do)
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herrlindemann · 7 months
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Sonic Seducer - July 2015, interview with Till and Peter
Youth-threatening Teutonic Roc bogeyman for some, almost cult-like revered New German Hardship light figure for others: In the development of German-language music, no one has polarized the masses to an even remotely comparable extent as Rammstein singer Till Lindemann and his troupe. After firing on all cylinders at the boundaries of good taste with his infamous cult formation over the last two decades and, at the same time, mastering the rise to become the most successful local rock act, the notorious industrial metal oddball is now also catching up with his English-language solo project 'Skills In Pills' dirty grin for the next general attack on morals and customs.
He almost took part in the Olympic Games as a competitive swimmer in the early 1980s; After his apprenticeship as a basket maker, Till Lindemann has been one of the most controversial singers and lyricists in the German-speaking music landscape since the end of the 90s at the latest. Someone for whom nothing and no one is obviously sacred: a devious pyromaniac who sets himself on fire on stage while he loves to talk about taboo topics that grab headlines such as necrophilia, cannibalism, drug abuse or sex in all love and life situations. Hot iron in the truest sense, some of which can also be found on Lindemann's solo debut: On 'Skills In Pills' the Berliner has teamed up with his long-time friend and Hypocrisy/Pain mastermind Peter Tägtgren, who combines Lindemann's darkly erotic adult fairy tale with the corresponding atmospheric, hard industrial -Metal substructure supports. Till Lindemann and Peter Tägtgren in a not always entirely serious conversation about pill madness, bizarre fetishes and failed family planning.
The lyrics on 'Skills In Pills' are quite controversial and will definitely make headlines here and there. Will the record also be released in English-speaking countries and available there in a clean version?
Till: The record will be released worldwide. I don't know yet if some songs might need to be toned down. Maybe we need to change the word cunt to aunt. With Rammstein it's almost a kind of tradition that people are always indignant. I'm already used to it. This time it will certainly not be worse than with Rammstein.
With English-language texts throughout, this time there may even be worldwide scolding! Is it at least a little intentional to piss off the audience with such offensive lyrics?
Till: No, it just happens. The lyrics arise as they arise, not out of any need to stand out or piss off anyone. Even if I wanted to express it in a different way, it always only comes out the way people know it from me (laughs). I can't do anything about it. There's always a wink somewhere in my songs. If people don't understand the humor, there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not forcing anyone to buy the record.
Is it important to you today that your humor is understood?
Till: Until about ten years ago, it wasn't important to me that I was properly understood. It was important to me what people thought and how they perceived me. Today I'm more relaxed. Not to say: I don't care at all whether people understand me correctly.
Peter: If you don't understand the humor on this album, then you have a serious problem. Everything on this record can of course be understood with a grin. In my opinion there is a really brilliant artist behind it who can juggle words very well. There are also some serious songs like ‘Home Sweet Home’ which is about cancer. But the majority of them like ‘Cowboys’ or ‘Golden Shower’ are really not serious. Funny adult stories.
Can you identify 100 percent with the lyrics?
Peter: Absolutely. I think every man can do it. Maybe not necessarily complete with the lyrics of ‘Golden Shower’; Personal preferences tend to differ. But the rest has a really good sense of humor.
And maybe the transgender song 'Ladyboy' doesn't mean you?
Peter: I hope not!
Till: You have no idea...
Do you ever wonder what's going on in Till's head?
Peter: Sometimes, but if I'm honest, I don't really want to know. I see what he's singing about. Maybe some things shouldn't be said at all.
Till: It was such an intense time. Peter knows me extremely well now.
The album sounds like a lot of fun in the studio - like a real man's record.
Peter: Oh yes, I can only confirm that. We really had a good time while working on the songs.
How did the recordings go? You both are known as passionate party makers who like to have a blast!
Till: (laughs)
Peter: It wasn't that intense. Both of us can definitely handle a beer or two and a few whiskeys on top of that. Let's put it this way: first comes work, then comes pleasure. We can both be very disciplined when it counts. We share the attitude that you shouldn't waste time unnecessarily, but rather get things done as quickly as possible and then celebrate properly.
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Which of you can tolerate more?
Peter: We haven't tried that yet, but we'll find out. We tried to drown our new record label. The result was that I was the first one down.
How would you describe Till? His strengths, his weaknesses?
Peter: A guy with a million ideas. So far I have always been the driving force in my projects - this time it was a very nice feeling that someone else took the reins. I think Till is more determined and ambitious than me. I think we complement each other quite well. We didn't have to fight each other in the studio to impose a certain opinion, but we could always agree on what was best for a song.
Till: Peter compensates for my weaknesses with his strengths. We are like plus and minus. And vice versa. But it works really, really well. Peter played all the instruments. All I had to do was finish my lyrics, travel up to his studio and sing everything. I would consider my use of words to be my greatest strength. Peter and I are the so-called perfect match.
What was the most difficult part of creating this album?
Peter: Everything except the lyrics and the music! The songs basically composed themselves. Then of course there is the ugly side, which no longer has anything to do with the music and is all about business. That's always the moment when it starts to get annoying. That was a real downer. Lindemann was originally planned as a purely leisure activity, as a kind of holiday hobby or perhaps as group therapy. We couldn't have known at the beginning that everything would degenerate like this and develop into a big thing. People caught wind of it and everything got bigger and bigger from then on. We are both artists, we prefer to have nothing to do with the business side.
Were there big discussions about the pieces?
Peter: Actually everything went pretty smoothly, but there were still some tracks that were pretty hard to crack and that neither of us were really happy with for a long time.
Till: Peter is this type of real metalhead who always has a guitar in his hands and is constantly strumming something to himself. Fortunately, he had no intention of including any solos in the songs. I hate solos. Right from the start he was really thundering on the guitar - I even had to rein him in a little at times. I'm more of a gothic person: atmospheric keyboards, slow bass and everything a little more atmospheric. Pianos, strings… Peter can arrange that very well too. Nevertheless, I sometimes had to cool down his metalhead spirit a little so that a song could develop in a relaxed manner.
No disagreements regarding content at Lindemann?
Peter: Few. Of course I have a different musical background than Till. But the more songs we wrote together, the easier it became. At some point something clicked and we understood what we wanted and how we needed to go about it.
Aren't you worried that your collaboration with Till will be held against you in tight-knit metal circles?
Peter: No, absolutely not. When you start making music young, you feel like you have to fight everyone and everything to prove yourself. Today I don't have to prove anything anymore, I just do what I want. If I get the idea to record a blues album, then I record a blues album. You should only listen to what you want to do yourself and not pay attention to what others might think or expect of you.
Till, did you ever feel like you had to prove yourself with Rammstein? Rammstein appeared so confident right from the start.
Till: Every young artist feels like they have to prove themselves. You're always under a certain amount of pressure to improve from time to time. Even today. We certainly exude a certain self-confidence. But this is not God-given, but is based on many different creative processes.
You recently explained in an interview that you would have liked to hide in the early days of Rammstein and found your role as frontman rather unpleasant. Seems like you've gotten used to being the center of attention.
Till: I'm actually not that concerned with being in the spotlight or the focus. With Lindemann I'm just fulfilling this agreement, which was filled with a lot of Jägermeister, to do a joint project with Peter at some point. Originally I just wanted to record a song and put it online. Peter said he would like to write a whole album together. Then we started working on the next track and after a short time we had five pieces finished. So we thought about an EP. But then we had so much fun that we worked on more pieces. It just bubbled out of us.
In your opinion, do you communicate different things in English today in a different way than you would in Rammstein or in German?
Till: I haven't thought about that yet.
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Peter: For me it's easier to express myself in English than in Swedish. Even if I'm talking to a Swede! Sometimes you just use English terms because you can express things quicker and easier than in your native language.
Would you also sing these lyrics in German?
Till: No, definitely not. My message from the start was: If I ever started a side project, it would definitely not be in German. That would be too much competition and friction with Rammstein. Rammstein is Rammstein, Lindemann is in English and I feel extremely comfortable with that. At first I wasn't so sure whether I should actually do it because my English isn't very good and you can still hear the German in me.
Peter: I said from the beginning that I found his pronunciation very appropriate. The rawer and edgier, the better. It would sound very strange if Till Lindemann sang the lyrics in perfect, slurred American instead of his rolling pronunciation. That wouldn't be Till.
Instead of English, you learned Russian at school in the old GDR - would an album in Russian also be conceivable?
Till: It would definitely be a challenge. I probably couldn't do it off the cuff, but would need to brush up on some things and need someone to help me with the lyrics. But an album in Russian is conceivable. Maybe even very soon! It would also be worth considering making a record in many different languages such as French, Spanish, Italian etc. I speak a little Spanish. We've already done Spanish songs with Rammstein.
Your first attempts at non-German were with Rammstein. Have you already tested what it would sound like?
Till: The record company back then wanted us to do “Du hast” and “Engel” in English. Why we did ‘Pussy’ and ‘Amerika’ in English is a mystery to me today.
What did you discover about your artistic abilities while working on ‘Skills In Pills’?
Till: I was very surprised that everything worked out so well. Before our project, I listened to Richard's [Kruspe, Rammstein guitarist] album. We are both from the East. Richard fled before the Berlin Wall came down. We met in Berlin sometime after the fall of the Berlin Wall, before he moved to New York. Suddenly he spoke English fluently and also started making music in English. I really admired that. Above all, I admired his courage in taking this step. And it was a big step from a boy from a small town in East Germany to suddenly making English-language music in New York City. I was proud of him and wondered if I could do the same. But it was crystal clear to me that I would sing in German for the rest of my life. Because people like it. There were many voices who asked that Rammstein never sing anything in English.
People have always wondered about your texts, how much autobiography there is in them. This also applies to the new, sometimes quite revealing to coarse lyrics like 'Ladyboy', 'Golden Shower' or 'Fat'.
Till: A lot. I don't have anything more to say about it. I don't want to explain the lyrics too much.
Is writing a form of self-therapy for you?
Till: It's definitely a good thing. Sometimes it feels good to talk about certain things. Not always, but in certain situations. When someone very close to you dies, it can be very liberating to write about it. When you wrap it up in music as beautiful as Peter's, of course it's all the more beautiful.
What are the lyrics to the title track of ‘Skills In Pills’?
Peter: Of course it's about this society in which people pop a different pill for every occasion: one to sleep, one to stay awake, one for a headache, one to last longer. Pills, pills and more pills. At the same time, you condemn drugs, but you don't count all these pills, while they are almost as addictive and just as harmful. Of course, a headache pill isn't comparable to coke, heroin or marijuana, but at the end of the day they're just drugs.
What is your favorite pill?
Till: The blue one (laughs).
You've already caused a stir with your first outtake 'Praise Abort' - a single about the 'blessings of abortion'. You obviously like making enemies!
Peter: Definitely our families. But seriously: all people who feel offended by this text should get in line! But that's just the way it is: Some people don't really think about it before they start a family. You may have never heard of condoms or other forms of contraception, bang all day and end up sitting with a whole bunch of kids. Then the woman cheats and everything goes down the drain. You're kind of digging your own grave.
Till: Some people are really irresponsible with their children. They want children, but don't know how to raise them, how to teach them things and prepare them for life. And in the end there are only freaks running around outside, as you can often see.
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