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stardustdreams-andcaffeine · 2 years ago

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Rain Therapy | Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: The line between friends and lovers is impossibly thin, yet somehow the hardest line to cross. It's a line that you and Bucky just can't seem to break, but it's nothing one of Tony's infamous parties can't fix.

A/N: Another fluffy one for me, which is still something I'm growing used to writing. I'm getting anxious for some angst, so ask me for some and I'll see what I can do!

Warnings: two idiots in love, slight angst, tooth-rotting fluff, language, allusions to smutty content, jealous Bucky

Word Count: 7,206

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The whisper of lightning, the promise of thunder, the answer of rain. The sky darkens and the sun is forgotten, casting a gloomy light on the earth below.

And yet, in the midst of all that chaos, I find it to be a chemical mixture for peace.

“Y/N, Y/N what the hell are you doing out there?”

That illusion of peace shatters, and I let out low groan, keeping my eyes shut as the raindrops fall down on my form outstretched on the pavement.

“I was having a peaceful moment of bliss until someone decided now was an opportune time to bother me,” I call back.

“An opportune time to-” I hear him cut off incredulously, muttering something to himself as heavy, booted feet slosh through the rain to reach me, “Get off the damn driveway, doll. You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a myth,” I respond, staying pleasantly where I lay right in front of the Avengers Compound.

“Myth my ass, now get up and inside before I throw you over my shoulder and do it for you.”

I click my tongue, not having to open my eyes to know my best friend is standing right beside me, “So much violence, so much language. You should join me, some inner peace would do you good.”

Thunder cracks above, rumbling through the earth and into my bones. Even though I don’t hear his steps moving away, Bucky goes silent beside me. I begin to think he’s taking me up on my offer of a little rain therapy.

“See,” I sigh into the cacophony of nature, “Isn’t that peaceful? Maybe-”

I don’t even have time to react when a pair of strong arms, one of them freezing cold due to the metal in the rain, grab my waist and lift me clear off the floor. My eyes snap open with a jolt as I see myself being thrown over Bucky’s shoulder just like he promised.

“What the-” I stop myself as he secures me with his arm dangerously near my ass and slap his broad, muscular back, “You little bitch!”

“A little bitch who’s gonna keep you from getting a cold,” Bucky responds, and I can hear the smugness in his tone from back here, “Is the rain still peaceful?”

“No, there’s a jackass who got in the way.”

I feel his body rumble with laughter, feel the noise pass through my body and make my heart tumble in its cage. With that, his arm edging near a zone that’s clearly more than friends, and the sight of his wet t-shirt stuck to his back, I feel the anger flood from my body. Instead, I find myself thinking about what his abs look like with his rain-soaked shirt pressed against them.

Damn it, I’ve really got it bad.

I try my hardest to shove the image from my mind, but it only sticks harder and makes the spot where Bucky’s hand rests burn. I notice his metal hand on the other side, rain dripping off of it, and I can’t help but let my mind trace to-

I halt my thinking abruptly. He’s your best friend, he’s your best friend, he’s your best friend.

He’s my unfairly hot, broody, and annoyingly heart-fluttering best friend

With his free hand, Bucky shoves open the front doors to the Avenger’s Compound, walking a few steps until we enter one of the large, high-ceiling living areas where a television blasts a movie.

“I told you,” Tony announces after the group of my friends and teammates sees Bucky walking in with me on his shoulder, “Sam, you owe me five bucks.”

“Put me down, terminator,” I grunt, to which Bucky finally sets me on my feet.

Immediately I go to hit him, but the sudden change in my body’s gravity sends me off balance slightly. I stumble back slightly, trying to make the blood rush from my head so I can balance again.

“Woah, careful there, Bambi,” Bucky laughs, gripping onto my waist to help steady me.

Where his hands touch, metal and skin alike, my skin sets on fire. The radiating electricity from his touch only annoys me further and I shove out of his hands, swatting his chest.

“I’m fine,” I grumble, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze and holding a finger in his face like a scolding parent, “Next time you manhandle me, I’m going to remove your arm like Ayo showed me.”

Bucky smirks at me coolly and says something, but I miss it because my eyes drop down to where his t-shirt sticks to his abs from the rain. Just like I imagined it would, it makes my mouth go dry and my heartbeat miss a step.

“See something you like?” Bucky taunts.

Cheeks flushed, I look up at him calmly and smile, “Just thinking about what a shame a body like that is wasted on the grumpiest man alive.”

The group of Avengers lounging around the various chairs and couches in the living room snicker, their attention drawn from the television. He lifts an eyebrow at me and those infuriating steel blue eyes ricochet my pulse.

“Sure you were.”

“Whatever,” I mumble, turning and looking at team, “Who bet against me?”

Tony, Bruce, Wanda, and Nat lifts their hands and I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest in feigned hurt.

“Traitors,” I grumble, not being able to stop the smile that wants to twitch onto my lips as Bucky walks up beside me and rests his arm on my shoulder.

“They bet right, didn’t they?”

I look up at him with the half-smile I wasn’t able to stop, “Screw you,”

I turn around and leave the living room, making my way towards my room so I can shower and change. From behind me, I hear Bucky’s laugh that sears itself into my memory.

“Love you too, doll!” He calls out, and my heart launches into my throat.

He doesn’t mean it like I want him to, not like how I mean it. Not like how I've meant it for months.

As I finally get to the confines of my bedroom, I shut to the door and let out a trembling breath. I keep my back pressed to the door for a moment, leaning my head against it and forcing myself to forget the way his hands felt, to strike from my memory the beauty of his laugh. When I finally peel off my wet clothes and step into a scalding hot shower, I let the water and steam surround me long after I'm already clean.

I'm a coward, a coward and a fool for falling for my best friend and not being able to say a word to him about it.

Long after I'm out of the shower and cuddled up with a book on my bed, a knock sounds on my door. I've barely glanced up at it in confusion when Natasha's voice calls out, "I know you're probably reading a book but put it down and let me in unless you want me to break down the door."

A half-smile tugs onto my lips and I set my book aside, untangling myself from my covers and opening the door for my friend. She gives me a smug smile and waltzes in, plopping down on my bed. I can't help but shake my head at her as she makes herself at home.

"Why are all of my friends so violent?" I taunt, sitting down next to her.

"Most of us are trained assassins." Nat gives me a playful nudge, already lifting my spirits from the gloom and doom they were resting in. Her knowing gaze immediately notifies me that I can't escape the conversation to come, so I don't even bother to skirt around it.

"Why does my life suck?" I groan, dropping down onto my back dramatically. Nat laughs beside me, shaking her head down at me.

"So many questions tonight," She remarks, following the words with a tired sigh and laying down beside me. As we both stare up at my ceiling, my mind is held captive by one person. Both it and my heart have been held hostage and I'm starting to understand the truth in Stockholm Syndrome.

"You know, and brace yourself because this is gonna blow your mind, you could just tell him how you feel," Nat advises.

"And risk ruining everything that we already have?" I reply, my brows creased in an ever-present state of worry, "I could live with being friends with him forever as long as it meant I still had him in my life. But if I tell him how I feel and it changes everything to the point where he can't even be around me?"

I take a charged pause, startled by the sudden rise of emotion. I swallow down the burning pain, but ultimately I decide to go easy on my breaking heart. The poor thing doesn't know any better. All it knows is that it wants Bucky Barnes and I keep locking it and its desires into a cage of bones in my chest.

"A life without him...I couldn't live like that."

Nat sits up beside me, catching my attention in time to see the sympathy flashing across her features, "Y/N, I know it's scary but if you'd just trust me I think the outcome would surprise you."

She can tell that I'm still not convinced, so in a last ditch effort to rally me from my slumber of inaction, she reaches across me and grabs the book I was reading. I sit up, a protest just starting on my tongue as I reach for it. She pulls it out of my reach and holds it in front of her chest, displaying the cover for me to see.

"Do any of the characters in these books ever fare well from denying their passions?" Nat asks, and I find that she has me in a figurative corner, "Do their stories end well when they decide, 'Nah, I'm too scared to tell him I love him'?"

"I don't love him," I protest, but the lie is sour on my tongue and allergic to my soul. It gets rejected so quickly by everything within me that I almost think I'll have a physical reaction to it.

"Bullshit." Nat challenges, setting the book aside and grabbing my hands. I shake my head, trying to escape her arguments that my heart jumps in agreement with.

It's a brutal thing, to have your heart yearn for one thing and your mind so resolutely against it. I've always thought it strange how the dichotomy of desires could root in a person, but it makes sense in a way. The heart is led by our passions, our intuitive cravings. The mind is hardwired by nature and instinct to protect us, to propel our survivals.

Even if that means our passions must be slaughtered.

I'm keeping my mind in charge by sheer will that's hanging precariously over the edge of a cliff. My will only has a few fingers left to hold with, and I can feel it slipping every day Bucky's near me, every time his skin brushes mine, every time he simply is.

“I need to move on,” I almost desperately announce, gripping handfuls of my sweatshirt to keep from crying, “I need a way to move or this is going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.”

Sympathetic to my distress, Natasha lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder, “You know, with Tony’s Semi-Annual Charity Gala coming up this weekend it’s the perfect time to move on.”

I perk up slightly, the thought breaking a sliver of hope in the pit of despair and self-pity I allow to well up. For an Avenger, I sure know how to wallow in pain.

“…or make a move on a certain super soldier.” Nat continues.

“Don’t be silly, I’d never steal Steve away from you,” I jest, my tone wavering but stronger than before. Nat rolls her eyes from beside me before shoving my shoulder. With a sigh, I finally meet my friend’s gaze, “One last chance. One chance and then I’m putting myself out of my misery”

That’s so easily said. The unspoken truth is that my poor heart doesn’t stand a chance. It hasn’t for a long time.

“Great!” Nat smiles, squeezing me into a side hug on the bed, “I’ll start planning your outfit now!”

And with that, she’s off my bed and into my closet. As we spend the better part of the night deciding on what to wear to the upcoming gala, I can’t help but let my mind stray to its usual focus. With a groan of exhaustion, I drop my head into my hands and tell myself that same lie.

“He’s my best friend. That’s all.”

It’s getting harder and harder to believe.

|||

A few days later

It's been a few days since the rain incident, and I've finally managed to garner a moment alone from everyone. It's not that I don't love being around them, but it taxes me more than I care to admit to be around him.

A forlorn sigh brushes past my lips, but as I nestle down on the floor in the library Tony had put into the Compound, I find my worries drifting away. Instead, they're replaced with the story in the pages, rapturing my attention and distracting my mind.

That is, until the door opens and I feel his presence before I see or hear him.

"There you are, doll. I've been looking for you all day," Bucky calls, his deep, smooth voice cascading into my very soul. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying desperately to not let it show on my face how jarring it was to be snapped from the book to the person I've been trying to avoid.

"You've been looking for me?" I ask, managing to make my voice seem calm and pleasant. He approaches where I'm sitting on the floor, a breath-stealing smile tugging at his lips.

"Course I have, I haven't seen you in days," He replies, his face the picture of relaxed calm, drawing a fierce dichotomy to the barely-veiled confliction on my own. Bucky takes a moment, surveying me sitting on the floor amidst all of the chairs and couches available. He lifts an amused brow at me.

"Why are you on the floor?"

I can't stop myself from smiling up at him and all control I had in keeping myself away from him disintegrates, "It's more comfortable to me. Are you judging me Barnes?"

His laugh bursts light into the depths of me, and as I watch his face relax I can't help but look on in awe at how far he's come. When he first joined the team, he was withdrawn and quiet and even grumpier than he is now. He never smiled, never laughed, and barely spoke. Now, of course he's adorably grumpy most of the time, but he smiles and laughs. He enjoys life, and he more than anyone else in this world deserves to enjoy life.

"What're you reading?" Bucky asks, and I try to ignore the way my pulse rockets up when he settles down beside me on the floor.

He stretches out his long legs, keeping the one furthest from me bent and resting his arm on top it. His other leg is stretched out and nearly touching my own. To help balance his weight, he settles the hand closest to me, his metal hand, onto a spot on the floor behind my back. The position makes his chest brush against my shoulder ever so slightly and all I can feel is the burning of his presence and the searing of his gaze.

"Just some fantasy book," I reply, not wanting to bore him.

I look over at him to see his eyes already on my face, his own radiating a serene peace. He furrows his brows at my prolonged examination of his features and the ghost of a smile twitches at the corner of his lips, "What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just," My mouth has gone dry again, and I can't seem to clear the haze on my mind, "You look at peace."

"Well someone pretty incredible suggested rain therapy, which works like a charm for my grumpiness."

A laugh bubbles out of me, only widening the smile on his face. I find myself subconsciously leaning into his presence and bringing our faces closer.

"Seriously," Bucky continues, making me realize our proximity and pull back to a normal distance, "I'm always at peace around you."

My heart doesn't just miss a step, it stumbles and falls and nearly gives out in my chest. His words affect every part of me and it's a feat of pure resilience that I don't reach over and press my lips to his.

"Unless you're doing something stupid and testing my nerves," He adds on, lightening the air and making me giggle. He nods towards the almost forgotten book in my hands.

"You were going to tell me about your new read," Bucky reminds, and I smile.

I spend the next ten minutes detailing what's happening in the book, my excitement about it taking over and making me ramble on without barely taking any breaths. I occasionally look between the book and Bucky, sometimes gesturing with my hands to establish my enthusiasm.

Even when I'm not looking at him, Bucky's gaze never leaves my face.

So much for giving myself space to try and move on from him. That thought is far from my mind, though. The longer I’m near him, the closer he is, the harder it is to remember to forget him. And now, with Tony’s Gala tomorrow night, I don’t know how I’m going to move on.

Maybe I really can give this one last shot. It could break me if it goes wrong, but I have a feeling I’ll break a little regardless.

|||

The next night

Not even the pounding of the music and the chatter and clatter of hundreds of guests can drown out my racing mind.

“Stop tugging at your dress, you look great,” Natasha chides from beside me.

With a huff of anxiety, I heed her words and stop fiddling with the snug material of the one-sleeved dress. It hugs my curves down to my waist before draping elegantly to the floor, broken only by the high slit up the thigh.

“I know,” I reply, downing my second drink of the night and setting down the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter with a brief smile, “I just haven’t seen him yet. He’s coming right? Tony told us all to be here, so he wouldn’t just-”

“Why does there have to be so many people here?”

My words die out at the distant but unmissable rumble of words behind me. I turn around, and my entire world seems to focus on the epicenter that is Bucky Barnes as he walks in beside Sam Wilson.

“It’s a party man, I thought you loved parties back in the day,” Sam replies, smiling at a few people as he walks in.

“Yeah well I don’t like people like I did then,” Bucky grumbles back, messing with the edges of his all-black suit that is tailored so perfectly that it hones every inch of his body.

His broad shoulders, his muscular form, his piercing blue eyes in a fierce dichotomy with the darkness of the getup…I almost trip in my heels.

“You don’t like any people? That breaks my heart, Barnes,” I manage out coolly, walking up to the pair with a half-smile tugging on my lips and my heart dancing with the butterflies within.

Bucky’s gaze turns from the party goers to where I walk up to them, and a part of me melts at the way a light filters into his features. His dashing smile makes my own grow before I can stop it. The way he simply stops for a moment and stares at me, as if the throngs of people around us don’t exist…

It’s more than an effort to shove my poor heart into its shackles.

“I guess you’re an exception, doll,” He amends, and Sam rolls his eyes beside Bucky as they stop before me.

“It’s not like I’m right here,” Sam announces, making me giggle slightly and look to him.

“Hey Sam, good to see you,” I greet, walking over and hugging the man. He hugs me back, smiling brightly.

“Good to see you too,” Sam responds, his eyes catching on something over my shoulder, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe there are some fans who need me.”

I laugh as I watch him walk over and greet a group of women by the bar. When I turn back to Bucky, I shove down my nerves and shake my head as I pull him into a hug.

“You look incredible, Buck,” I announce, trying to ignore the rightness of his body against mine as he pulls me into a hug that lasts a moment more than I should have let it.

“Y/N,” he deadpans, pulling back but leaving his arms on my waist to admire me. His eyes sparkle with something akin to awe that makes hope rise in my chest, “You put me and everyone else in this room to shame.”

“You obviously haven’t looked in a mirror,” I remark, desperately trying to not show all over my face how beautiful he is.

Bucky just smiles. He looks at me and he smiles and I am undone.

My eyes catch on Natasha over Bucky’s shoulder as she mingles in the background of the party. When our gazes meet she gestures to Bucky with a hand, mounting the words ‘Come on’ as she does. Nodding back to her, I remember the conversation we had a few days ago and right before we joined the gala. I have to be bold and make a move, take a chance before I lose the ability to do so.

“So,” I turn back to Bucky, smiling knowingly up at him, “How’re you doing with the whole party thing?”

Bucky takes in a breath, nodding his head slightly as he surveys the party scene around us. Drinks are flowing, laughs rising, and music is permeating through every sector of the Avengers Compound. The floor shakes with the base and the clattering of shoes as he looks back to me, “Oh you know, just fantastic.”

“Is that so?” I taunt, almost laughing at the dripping sarcasm in his voice. He shoots me a grumpy glare that finally unleashes my laugh. At the sound, Bucky’s features soften and a smile touches his lips. I notice this and furrow my brows up at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky whispers, just holding that’s soft smile in his eyes that makes me almost forget the track of the conversation. When I snap myself from my daze, I gasp.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” I exclaim, holding my clutch up and opening it to find what I stashed earlier, “I know how you are with parties like this and all so I thought that this might help make it a better memory.”

“You got me a gift?” Bucky asks, shaking his head at me with furrowed brows, “You should have told me, I would’ve gotten you something too!”

I shake my head, finally finding what I’m looking for and glancing up at Bucky, “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

With a bright smile to cover my pounding, anxious heart, I hold out the small book in my hands. Bucky glances down at the gift I hold out, and I watch his body go still. Anticipation dances in my belly as he ever so gently reaches out and takes the old, fading The Hobbit novel into his hands.

“It’s a first edition, don’t ask me how I found it,” I inform, playing with the fabric of my dress to give my now empty hands something to do, “I know how much you loved it and now when you’re watching me read in the library, you can read too.”

My words ring out between us, and yet Bucky barely moves. Just when I’m beginning to grow nervous, my heart melts into a puddle in my chest when he lifts his steel-eyed gaze to me. I’ve never seen him cry before, but here and now I can see the lining of unshed tears in his gaze.

“Buck-"

He closes the distance between us, pulling me so close to him that there’s no room for separation. I melt into the hug, becoming nothing more than an extension of his body. There’s no him. There’s no me. There’s only us as we’re suspended in time, caught in this moment.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbles, not moving back an inch and letting his voice cascade over my neck and down my spine, “You don’t know what this means to me.”

Reluctantly, I pull back. Every part of me shouts in protest, but I know we have to separate as some point. I give him a soft smile, trying to ignore the noose that’s slowly tightening around my heart. I’m a goner. I have no chance of recovery.

“Don’t mention it,”

Bucky stares at me for another moment, the charged silence soon taking on an anticipated feel. We’re both waiting for the other to make the first move, I can sense it. I see Nat nudge me from afar again and decide to finally muster up my courage and stop waiting. I notice Bucky shakes his head at something, mumbling something to himself, but I press on.

“Hey, do you wanna da-”

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Bucky bursts out at almost the same instant, making me cut off my sentence quickly.

A drink? He’s going to get a drink right now, as soon as I was about to ask him to dance? I know he didn’t mean it as a rejection, but it still stings like one.

“Oh, uh yeah sure. That’s-”

Before I can even finish speaking, Bucky has darted away desperately towards the bar at the North side of the room near Sam. I stand dumbfounded, my heart slowly sinking. This is going to be much harder than I thought.

|||

It's been nearly an hour and a half and Bucky is still managing to be everywhere that I am not.

I can take a hint. Even if that hint shatters my soul a little.

As I watch the super soldier mingle with some of the guests, a polite and slightly annoyed smile on his face, I feel something snap within my chest. Here I am, lounging pathetically at the bar all alone, and there he is, my best friend who I can't seem to fall out of love with. His strong jaw and steel eyes don't dare to turn in my direction, and I feel my fracturing soul crack even more.

I have to let it go. I have to let it go. I have to let him go.

With a long sigh, I pick up the drink before me and down its contents, letting the burn soothe away the edge of the crawling pain in my chest. Once the glass is slammed back down on the bar counter, I steel my nerves and stand.

It's time I stop feeling sorry for myself and move on.

My eyes scan the thick crowd scattered throughout every inch of Tony's gala. Music radiates through every molecule of air, and just one glance at the dance floor has my feet moving before my brain is. As I walk over to the dance floor, I see a random guy standing with a few others. He's cute enough with a charming smile, so I grab his arm as I walk past, making him glance over at me. I flash him my best smile and tug him towards the dance floor.

"Dance with me?" I ask boldly, and his smile widens.

"I'd be honored," He replies, letting me pull him onto the dance floor.

I should let myself be whisked away into the music and the movements and the feel of his hands on my hips as we dance. I should let the base and the crowd and the charming man before me wipe away every thought, but I just...can't. All I can think about when his hands slide gently on my waist is how different it feels when those hands are Bucky's. My heart is crushing slowly, and so I do everything I can to forget it.

It's actually beginning to work until the music abruptly cuts out.

Groans and boo's arise from the crowd with me on the dance floor as we all look around, trying to figure out why the music's stopped. "That's so weird," The nice guy I'm dancing with mumbles. I mention my agreement, my eyes sweeping the edges of the party before I catch a glint of dark metal. My eyes fly back to the metal only to see Bucky storming away from the sound booth, his metal fist clenched so hard that I'm surprised it doesn't malfunction. In his metal grasp is a hunk of wires, and my stomach drops.

He did not.

"Don't worry folks! I'll have the music back up in no time," Tony announces, flashing his winning smile to the crowd as he jogs to the sound booth, "There was a slight malfunction"

I see him shoot Bucky a glare, but true to his words the music is back up in a matter of minutes. I feel anger begin to make my blood boil and I pull away from the guy I was dancing with. I see a frown pull onto his face as he lets me go but follows me a few steps.

"Are you okay?" He calls after me, and my heart twists in sympathy. I must look absolutely furious and he probably thinks it's pointed at him. So, I do my best to give him a sympathetic smile.

"I'm alright, thanks for the dance. I needed it," I comment, before turning and continuing my beeline for the brooding super soldier in the corner. He's standing with Sam, muttering something that I can't hear as I finally break through the crowd and walk up to them.

"Here we go," Sam mumbles, slowly backing away as I come to a stop in front of Bucky.

"What the hell, James?" I grit out.

"Oh she used the first name," Sam comments, his eyes widening, "I'm going to go check on Steve."

Then he leaves, and it's just Bucky and I. Bucky just shrugs, not meeting my furious gaze.

"I don't know what you're so mad about but-"

"Oh really? So you didn't just rip out the sound system?" I accuse, crossing my arms over my chest. He finally turns and meets my gaze, and damn it all I can't stop the swooning of my heart at the dark, rugged look on his face.

I'm angry, I remind myself. I'm angry with him.

"What does that have to do with you, sweetheart?"

I scoff, shaking my head at him, "You are unbelievable! I was finally starting to have a good night and-"

"Dancing with that handsy prick makes your night a good night then?" He interrupts, and I have to fight to keep the smug look off of my face at catching him.

"What were you saying about this having nothing to do with me?" I fire back, lifting an eyebrow. Bucky clenches his jaw and takes a step closer to me, probably expecting me to back off. I don't. Instead, I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, trying and failing to seem taller than him.

"I don't like you dancing with other men like that," Bucky informs, his voice dark. He's so close to me that his whiskey and pine scent invades my senses, threatening to empty my head of the argument at hand.

"I can dance with whoever the hell I want, Barnes. And since certain people made it very clear they didn't want to dance with me, then certain people should have no say in who I dance with"

"I don't dance, Y/N." His eyes are cool fire and they sear right through me. Even in this heated argument, all I can seem to think about is how badly I want him, body and soul. My thoughts are banished when he spits his next words out, "Not with you, not with anyone."

It shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't. So why do I have to fight to keep the hurt off of my face?

Just like that, the fire in my argument is gone. I nod, taking a few steps back, "Okay, that's all you had to say."

And then I turn around and leave before he can see the tears welling in my gaze.

I force myself into the crowd, making sure I move quickly and weave myself between those around me to get away as fast as possible. Then, with my heart in my throat, I finally make it to the outskirts of the party where a glass sliding door leads out into a training field. Through the glass, I can see rain pouring down into the dark, almost moonless night.

Seeing it unravels a bit of the pain within my chest, and I don't even think as I slip off my heels and walk outside. I shut the door behind me, muting the sounds of the party and leaving the downpour of rain and the distant rumble of thunder to take over my senses. I set my heels down carefully and walk out into the field, barely jumping when the cool, refreshing droplets begin to pound into my skin. It's not long before I'm soaked and my entire outfit is ruined. I don't mind, though. I'm not planning on going back there anyways.

I sit down in the grass, not even minding how it dirties my dress, and hug my knees close. When I slip my eyes shut, I'm reminded why I love the rain so much.

In moments like this, I can't distinguish my tears from the rain

I don't know how long I sit like this, my eyes shut and the rain drenching me. Eventually, my body stops shaking from the sobs that have now subsided and any evidence of my breakdown has been washed away. I'm almost at peace when I hear that voice, that stupid, addicting voice, ring out behind me through the storm.

"I'd say you'll catch a cold, but I don't think you'd care much"

I swallow hard, cursing my heart for the way it jumps. I open my eyes, but keep my gaze firmly forward across the training field.

"Especially since it's coming from you," I add on, grateful for the lack of tremor in my words.

"I guess I deserved that one," Bucky concedes softly, his voice getting closer. My body begins to shiver with the anticipation of him being close, the response purely visceral and out of my control. I just hope he thinks it's from the rain.

"You think?" I scoff lightly, not having the strength to be angry anymore.

It's silent for a long while, and I almost begin to think that he's left and gone back inside. I'm proven otherwise when I see Bucky walk out from behind me, standing right in front of where I sit with my knees drawn to my chest. Against my better judgement, I look up.

And there he is, drenched like I am and an unreadable look upon his stupidly handsome face.

"Bucky-"

He extends out his human hand, and my words die, "Dance with me."

Every part of my heart beams, and it’s an effort to keep the fluttering of my heart out of my body language. I pause for a moment, almost as if to give him time to retract his hand. When he doesn’t, I hesitantly meet his gaze.

“I thought you didn’t dance,” I whisper. His half-smile grows as he looks down at me with what almost looks like…adoration.

“I don’t,” Bucky confirms, his voice like sugar and pine, “But for you I’d do anything”

I can’t even try to hide the visceral effect his words have on me. With a thousand butterflies batting in my stomach and my heart beating viscously out of rhythm, I allow a small smile to grow on my lips. A new excitement in my chest, I reach up and slip my hand into his large, rough one calloused with work and time. It fits mine perfectly, as always, and his touch muddles my senses and wakes me up all at once, as always.

As he helps me stand, the rain still pouring down on us, he tugs me close to him so suddenly that I stumble right into his chest. A small laugh escapes my lips as I catch myself on his broad chest. Bucky’s so close, so warm, so intoxicating to me that every fiber of my being yearns for his proximity. I’m nothing but a firing hum of nerves and sparks being this close to him, with a hand on his chest and his arm secured around my waist.

And we dance.

There’s no music, there’s no reason. We just dance. Bucky’s magnificent at it, every step dripping in ease and cool confidence that only makes me love him more. I’m so caught in the moment that every thought of a reciprocated or unrequited love has been banished from my mind. All that exists is here and now, underneath the downpour of the heavens with the cacophony of nature as our song.

He twirls me around, making water splash up and a giggle bubble out of me when I slip and fall directly into him. His body rumbles with low laughter when he catches me stopping my fall. Bucky doesn’t even have to say a word for me to know he’s making fun of me, so I slap his chest with a huff of laughter.

“What?” Bucky’s amused voice is the harmony to the melody of the rain.

“I can feel your judgement from here,” I point out, but before I can raise my lightened gaze to meet his on my own, a metal hand hooks under my chin and gently turns my face up until our eyes clash.

Suddenly, I’m not so humored anymore.

Neither is he, I can tell. The air is different—still light with joy but now corded with something deep, rich, and intangible. His piercing blue eyes seem to be burdened with a million different thoughts, but I can barely bring myself to breathe let alone ask him what is going through his beautiful mind.

Bucky doesn’t say a single word, though. He doesn’t have to. My eyes glance down to his lips for no more than one half of a second, and by the time I’ve returned my gaze to his, he’s closing to distance between us and connecting his lips to mine.

I’ve never understood what is so special about kissing in the rain. I get it now. There’s something so dichotomously beautiful in this moment, in the cold, relentless rain and the desperate, burning heat of Bucky’s lips moving against my own.

Again, no words are needed for us both to understand. This kiss is everything that has been bottling up over our friendship. It’s every quiet moment in the library and loud moment in our arguments. As his hands tug me closer and ignite my skin as if it were burning clean off, as his lips and tongue move with mine, every thought and worry and tear-filled, longing night washes away. The very thought makes me sigh into the kiss, and finally we break apart only for the need for air.

Bucky doesn’t let me pull away an inch.

His arms keep my locked close, his forehead against mine as we both catch our breath. He nudged my nose with his before pulling away only enough to meet my gaze. One hand of his cradles my jaw, his thumb running lazy circles on my cheek.

“Does this mean you like me?” I whisper, a humored glint already lighting my gaze. Bucky laughs roughly, his voice sending shivers down my spine that don't go unnoticed. Rather, the other hand he keeps on my waist lifts to absently trace the path of the shiver, almost making my knees go weak.

“I more than like you,” Bucky quips, a content smile taking over his features. My heart misses a step and I don’t dare to dream.

“You really like me?” I taunt, and another heart-warming laugh pours from those perfect lips.

“You’re gonna make me say it, doll?”

I swallow thickly, my eyes not leaving his. I don’t dare to say another word, leaving the challenge up to him. Bucky sighs, moving the hand he keeps on my spine to cradle the other side of my face, now cupping it in his full grasp. He presses a long, gentle kiss to my lips before pulling back enough to where his lips still graze mine as he speaks.

“I love you, Y/N. Always have. Always will.”

My knees nearly go weak, and suddenly I'm so very grateful for the rain's ability to hide what is a drop and what is a tear. I'd never hear the end of it from him if he knew that's what his confession brought me to. When one of thumbs catches a stray tear, though, I know he's fully aware.

"I love you too, Buck."

Bucky smirks before me, bringing his mouth close to my ear and sending another shiver racing down my spine, "I figured that much out, sweetheart"

"Oh whatever!" I announce, hitting his shoulder but leaning in closer to his mouth that now trails from my jaw back to my lips. He presses a sweet kiss to my lips before holding me close to his chest and looking up into the sky that downpours upon us.

"Rain therapy, I guess it really does work," Bucky remarks.

"I would say I told you so, but-" I'm cut off by Bucky suddenly grabbing me by the waist and throwing me over his shoulder.

"What was that?" Bucky calls up to me, spinning me slightly and only making me giggle louder.

"Bucky, I'm in a dress!" I protest. He slaps my ass smugly and begins to walk with me still over his shoulder back to the compound.

"I know, let's get you out of that"

As my laugh tumbles out of my mouth, it twirls and dances and gets lost with the pounding of the rain and the rolling of the thunder. Once again, I'm in the debt of the rain, and I can't help but smile at it gratefully as my best friend and the love of my life walks triumphantly with me over his shoulder into the midst of Tony's nice party. Neither of us care about the looks we receive, though. Neither of us even notices.

All we see is the rain and each other.

#bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #angst #bucky barnes fluff #fluff #bucky oneshot #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #sam wilson #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader

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h3artstain · 2 years ago

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A list of (realistic) things you can do to be more environmentally friendly

(from an earth-loving horticulture student.)

— COSMETICS

Use bar soap instead of soap bottles

Use old toothbrushes for cleaning surfaces

Try exploring and researching some homemade face/body/lip products

Use ice sleeves, sunglasses, and caps instead of sunscreen (Edit: I’ve seen people say that it is safer and even necessary to wear sunscreen at all times so try to use eco friendly sunscreen instead! In my country it’s pretty uncommon to wear sunscreen often as we usually wear ice sleeves which is why I did not know this oof)

Use coffee grinds or homemade tumeric masks instead of cosmetic products with exfoliator beads

Invest in a metal ear cleanser instead of cotton buds

Try placing more importance on skincare instead of contributing to exploitative beauty companies by buying makeup

Use cosmetic products that do not contain palm oil

— CLOTHING

Try as much as possible to rewear your outfits at least twice before washing them

Actually WEAR your clothes! I know some of y’all just wear them once for your Instagram post and let it rot in your closet forever. Stop doing that!

Thrift, stitch up holes in your clothes, and use second hand clothing instead of supporting fast fashion companies like SHEIN, H&M, Zara, etc.

Cut up your old clothing into yarn and do macramè with it

Cut patches of old clothing to turn into reusable cotton pads

Learn how to knit, crochet or stitch your clothes!

If you use tampons, try menstrual cups or discs instead. If you use pads, try reusable pads or period underwear. (Trust me, it works). Also, use reusable panty liners instead of disposable ones. They may seem expensive but you will end up saving a lot more in the long run

— GARDENING

Plant seeds/cuttings in your old bottles, jars, and containers

Propagate your plants and exchange cuttings with your friends instead of buying new plants

Make your own soil mixes instead of buying soil mixes

Better yet, don’t use soil for your indoor plants and try getting into hydroponics or semihydroponics instead. This saves so much water and doesn’t contribute to mining of soil

Fertilise plants with fruit peels, coffee grinds, and tea leaves. (DO NOT use chemical fertiliser on soil)

Plant more legume plants in your garden instead of using nitrogen fertilisers. (Look up the nitrogen cycle if you need an explanation on this)

Avoid pesticides unless really needed. Try sprinkling cinnamon powder on soil or spraying neem oil on plants and soil to keep away pests.

If you have a lawn, try looking into rain gardens and consider making one

Let the (non invasive) weeds in your lawn/garden grow! They are there for a reason!

Stop killing earthworms and millipedes in your garden. This also applies to snails native to your region. They are there for a reason.

Water used to wash fruits and rice can be used to water plants

— REDUCE, REUSE

Use the caps of jars as soap holders

Use recycled paper/notebooks

Wash and dry your glass/plastic items before throwing them in the recycling bin

Keep any plastic bags for future use

Use eco friendly or reusable dish sponges

Use reusable straws and cups

Invest in a fabric cup holder

Bring a water bottle with you wherever you go

Drink more water and less sugary drinks

Bring reusable bags for buying groceries instead of using plastic ones

Always keep a folded up tote/shopping bag with you in case you spontaneously decide to buy something

— ELECTRICITY

Set a timer on your air conditioning instead of letting it run throughout the night

Better yet, use a fan instead of an air conditioner

Open your windows! Aerate your home!

Allow natural light to enter your home during the daytime, so as to avoid turning on your lights

Switch to LED lightbulbs instead of regular lightbulbs

Turn off any switches in your house when they are not in use

Collect the water from your air conditioner/dehumidifier condenser and use that to water plants, clean surfaces, steam ironing, and flushing toilets. Do not drink it though!

— INTERNET

Delete your all of your unwanted emails

Delete your inactive social media accounts

Try not to post excessively on social media and stop scrolling excessively too. This not only reduces energy usage but also improves your mental health and productivity

Try to keep to one social media app instead of having so many

Reduce your internet usage

Save your eBooks on a thumbdrive instead of on cloud

Use Ecosia instead of Google

Stop being influenced by social media trends that only just contribute to consumerism

Download music instead of streaming

Reduce online shopping

— FOOD

Reduce intake of processed foods

Reduce intake of fish, beef, and dairy

Try eating vegan or vegetarian foods at least once or twice a week

Cook your own meals instead of eating out

Bring your own food containers when taking away food from stores

Beeswax wrap instead of cling wrap!

Buy loose-leaf tea or plastic free tea bags instead of regular tea bags

Eat more mushrooms, vegetables, and fruits and drink more water

Support local farmers

And finally, educate yourself more about ecology and the environment!

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sweetrottenendings · 5 months ago

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"Plea"

Lawrence Oleander x GN!Reader

I might make a part 2 to this idk i just luv my plant wife.

SFW, one single swear word, 899 words. You wanna go on a date with Lawrence. Maybe a little OOC? Still figuring out how i wanna portray him in my writing.

Once again MDNI i promise you this fandom isn't for you.

It’s been a long time since you’ve had fresh air- real fresh air, not just Lawrence opening the window a smidge after your pleading. Despite all the greenery littering his apartment (or- your home, the cage you’ll never leave.) it feels as if the oxygen has been sapped entirely. All that is left is the musk, the stench of rot and the way its salt infects your lungs. Is there a chemical mixture of salt and carbon dioxide? Probably, but it likely isn’t what you’re sucking in at the moment.

Sometimes however, it brings you comfort with the familiarity. Stockholm syndrome set in long ago, so long ago that you struggle to remember the moment it hit. You don’t think you’d have it any other way, you love Lawrence despite the revolting relationship that’s been curated in the space- you’re thinking about the air again.

The delicate sound of trickling water sounds out, Lawrence is watering the plants. He’s meticulous, as he is with everything he does. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed as he dictates the exact amount of water each plant requires. It’s moments like these where you get to observe him in his entirety. The way his form hunches, blonde hair that occasionally clings to his neck, bright blue eyes that used to haunt your nightmares but now soothe your dreams. If only there were a universe where you had met normally, where Lawrence wasn’t as disturbed as he is- and you could be a normal couple. One that goes on cute dates to the park, snuggles together at night when the rain gushes outside, loves each other like normal people and don’t prod at each others spinal cords-

You should stop that thought there.

A park date, you imagine that would be something he could enjoy- considering his affinity for nature. Perhaps he could even enjoy it in this universe? He loves you, he really does- in his own fucked up way. Plus you really, desperately need fresh air. You need to inhale it as hard as you can, to feel alive for once (But do you really want to feel alive?) compared to the hollow death you feel now. Lawrence would never take you out around people however, there will always be that part of him that worries you’ll run and abandon what you’ve created together. (You never will, he’s all you need.)

What about during the night? He could take you to any spot he chooses, hide you from anyone he sees- even tie you to him, surely you could make it look inconspicuous. It would be nice too, the weather during the night is pleasant and far more suited to what he’s used to. He might get angry though, he wouldn’t kill you but maybe he’d finally go through with the threat to cut off your limbs. After pondering for a moment, you decide it’s worth the risk.

Your voice cuts him out of the zone he’s found himself in- he turns sharply towards you. He isn’t as trembly as he used to be, now confident in his power over you. “Lawrence-” Your voice is soft, the way you’ve trained it to be, “I have a request…”

He stares at you, unblinking.

“This is t-the biggest thing I will ever ask of you, and I won’t be upset or surprised if you say no.” It’s not like your feelings matter anyway, but you hope it may soothe any anger. He places down the watering can with a soft sound and makes his way to you. You haven’t been tied up in a very long time, but sometimes you sit yourself in the same chair from the start- it’s almost comforting. He kneels down to your eye level with a stern stare, and nods- prompting you to continue.

“I-I want to go outside-” He inhales sharply “-with you…” He exhales. “A date, in a park maybe, during the night so there isn’t anyone around…” You give him a sweet smile, as loving as you can, “...it’d be just us, like it’s meant to be.” he continues to stare, blue eyes burning into your soul and eating whatever confidence you had left- jaws wide and unrelenting. He must be angry, surely, he’s going to cut your limbs off and tie you back up, you’ve destroyed everything!-

“Okay…” You blink.

“Okay?”

He nods “We… we can go out.” You feel your heart swell with the most joy you’ve felt in your life, it bursts at the seams like you’ve just gorged yourself at a buffet. You want to hug him- you reach your trembling arms out in hopes he understands, and he does. Taking you into his arms, soft yet oddly strong for someone like him, he wraps you into his being. A hand comes up to stroke your hair in a soothing gesture- you didn’t realise you had started crying. You nuzzle your face deep into his chest, a grateful mantra pouring from your forever scarred lips. He tilts your head up to face him- a warm smile splayed across his face, filled with nothing but love for you, only you, forever you.

His voice is the gentlest you’ve ever heard from him,

“If you try to run, I will kill you.”

You smile back,

“Good, I love you Lawrence…”

He doesn’t say it back, but he doesn’t have to. You know he loves you.

#btd #btd lawrence #btd2 #lawrence btd #lawrence oleander #gatobob #boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death 2 #btd2 lawrence #boyfriendtodeath #x reader #fanfic #gender neutral reader #still figuring out tags #helpme

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renhanaschewtoy · 20 days ago

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What about some Lawrence headcanons? I'd love to hear if you have any ))

Yay! My first ask💕 Sorry if these are scattered or short or all over the place, I got excited and did this at work lol

Oh, dear, sweet Lawrence... I'll never stop being salty that he cold clocked me outside of the bar lmao I panic on quick time events. Caught me on my back foot lol

°King of always having bruises and not knowing where they came from. Was it from work? Is it just his fucked up body? Was it you? He couldn't have bumped his desk that hard, surely? But any day, any time- there's a few random bruises all the time of varying shapes, sizes, and color.

°While Lawrence hates going out due to his sociophobia, I could see him really liking botanical gardens. He definitely has learned what times are the least crowded or shit...after a while, might even just break in when they're closed. It's quiet, it's serene. Lawrence can take some of the plants home, precisely pruning carefully to propagate if he finds himself fond of them. In the same vein, I wouldn't put it past him to also slip some fucked chemicals to kill other plants or prune some to the point of withering should be feel so inclined.

°He likes collecting bones and rocks, could see Lawrence passing time by making shadow box art with the bones he collects. Rot is a part of death, it's the natural cycle, it's beautiful- it deserves to be celebrated to.

°Lawrence prefers honey to maple syrup. Given he's a tea guy, he's got a variety of different honeys, different flavors. He's not a charitable guy but he's gotten quite a few "save the bees" stickers with purchases and maybe got so high he donated a couple of bucks to some random bee conservation cause. Lawrence has no recollection of this.

°Roadkill Scrapbook. Idk, Lawrence strikes me as the guy who early on and before he got into what he got into and even had a real grasp on it- was really into just staring at and studying roadkill. And one thing lead to another where Lawrence photographs it for keeps. Dates them and adds notes as he seems fit

°When alone, prefers to masturbate in the shower. For efficiency, but really, it's to feel warm. Idk I feel Lawrence's body runs cold and given some of his... proclivities- it's a pleasant change up. Until you come around. Low key I could see this feeding into a bit of a temperature play or kink once he gets a taste.

°Works in a warehouse? Forklift certified. (I'm sorry I couldn't resist)

°Smokes more than he drinks but despite the bar scene, Lawrence likes Gin. Simple gin and tonics but I think he'd like a negroni if he ever went to a place that served them. For smoking tho? If he is going out or has something arduous to do, whatever- he does dab. It isn't so much that he likes it better or prefers it- it just gets the job done better, harder.

°Loves asphyxiation. On himself, on you. You're a bit more delicate though. Not that the science matters too terribly to him. Owns one very sturdy belt that's creased in a specific areas.

°Big fan of somnophilia. I don't need to elaborate.

#lawrence oleander #btd lawrence #btd lawrence oleander #btd #boyfriend to death #lawrence oleander headcannons

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bonespired · 1 year ago

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How to degrease bones? (With the easiest and cheapest method!)

Bone cleaning is quite a journey - and honestly degreasing is the part I find a tad confusing. Questions like: how long it will take? Does it work in cold water as well? Is it done? Is it doing anything at all?

As a beginner bone collector, who also doesn't want to put a huge amount of money into it and finding an acceptable way to clean bones is essential. Mainly because of the challenge, - tbh it is quite enjoyable for me to create quality bones with a less amount of investment, it just makes me feel like I really worked for it, I love these challenges - but mostly because it is already difficult to make my family accept this kind of a hobby of mine. Not many people are fond of keeping rotting animal parts at home, I can tell you that! If this hobby turns out to be stinky and expensive, that is definitely a no from family members. And even though I am an adult, making my own money, my husband does have a saying about the family funds - because we are both responsible for this family - so it is important for me to keep things at a reasonable price.

There are many ways to degrease bones and you have to pay a price for it either way, be it about the time period the degreasing takes or the used materials. You can degrease bones chemically, using liquids like ammonia or acetone, but personally, I dislike these, because:

it requires some effort to put your hand on this stuff, they can be hard to come by

they can be harmful to your health (ammonia is not nice to work with)

they can be expensive, and we already have to buy H2O2

they have to be stored and get rid of properly - you cannot just let these go down in your sink

and some materials can be straightforward and dangerous - read about some pros are using stuff like petrol for degreasing and while it does the job, petrol is extremely unstable, highly flammable and tend to blow up easily, so super no!

So, I go with the safest and also the cheapest solution: dish soap.

Dish soap is something that is easy to come by, can be super cheap and the water system is well prepared to clean grey water, so you can pour dish soap into your sink. However, it can take time to degrease your bones. While ammonia or acetone can be done with degreasing under a day (depends on the size of the skull and species of the animal), dish soap takes a lot longer: days at the best, months at the worst. But this is also the easiest degreasing method for beginners.

But there is another big question: how do you know your degreasing is working (and when it is done)?

When I started to even think about degreasing I went online, read about dish soap and was happy because everyone has dish soap at hand, so I picked a pot, filled it with cold water, pour the dish soap in, put the bones in and yay, magic was done! But things are not this simple.

The first days everything went fine: my water had fat oil drops at the surface and a visible white cloud came out of the bones, so a clear sign of the degreasing is working. But this stage went down quickly, like a matter of days - and I thought okay, degreasing is done, time to pull the skulls out and whiten. But my whitening never turned out white, rather like light grey and first I blamed my peroxide because of it, then my bones. These are findings from nature, probably they are stained, right?

I started to be doubtful when my cat skull turned out to be sticky after whitening. That never happened before, so another research later I came to the conclusion the cat that I thought are fully degreased is actually not degreased. But it didn't do a thing in the pot anymore. So what did I do wrong?

I used cold water. Apparently cold water works, but only for a while. It cannot really pull out the grease that is hiding deep inside the bone - that's why I stopped seeing white cloud after a matter of days, falsely thinking I am done. I needed warm water in the long run - if I simply use warm tap water that just runs cold way too quickly. It can be done with warm tap water as well, but that takes even longer. So, I bought an aquarium heater.

I looked after the fat oil drops in the water. They appeared on the first day, so I thought they will keep appearing until I am done. Turns out they don't? Rather the water slowly goes more opaque and murky with time, but no more fat drops don't matter how hard I am looking for them. This makes my job significantly difficult because oil drops are easier to spot and tell based on them if the degreasing is working or if I am actually done.

I am just super imapetient. I want my skull done and perfect as soon as possible. But it just doesn't work like that. I am working on this cat skull for 3 weeks now and it is still going: I had to macerate it, then degrease it, then whiten it, and then go back to degreasing and all I wanna do is glue it together and post fancy pictures of it. Won't happen for a while, time to accept that.

But how this opaque water progress looks like? I was so confused about is it clear water, is it dirty water, is it done, whether the water is warm enough or not, so I started to document the process.

This is the freshwater stage. I just changed the water and quickly snapped a pic of it, making it my reference piece. I can clearly see all the details of my bones, even if my dish soap is yellow, colouring my water a bit - but I can see through the water without any problem. My heater can do 36 Celsius degrees max, otherwise, it cooks the fish in the tank, so I put that on max, hoping it will be enough. About the temperature: I did read about 46 Celsius or even more than 50 Celsius for water temperature, but the aquarium heater cannot reach those degrees, because the main goal is to keep fish alive and no fish stays alive in 40+ water. I could use a bucket heater, but for me, that is harder to get and I really don't want a setting that takes a lot of space/costs a lot of money, so an aquarium heater it is.

Another thing I am not comfortable to put my bones in more than 50 Celsius degrees. This is my personal choice, but I really wanna avoid any chance of accidentally cooking my bones, and 50 seems to be too much heat.

I looked back at it an hour later and snapped another pic: and look, we start to get blurry details! No oil drops on the surface, but something definitely makes the water murky: my water is not hot enough to cook the bones, so it cannot dissolve or take any kind of damage in my bones, so this stuff must be grease! Seems like the heater works!

Checked the bones that evening as well and the water is definitely even more opaque!

And this is the next day: I can barely see my bones anymore, so definitely time to change the water.

Conclusion

If you think you are done with your bones, but they:

have yellow spots or wax on them

stick to your hand like you glued them

are shining here or there

have a waxy feeling

smells

Then your degreasing is not done. The good news is you can always go back to degreasing, doesn't matter if you whitened the bones or not.

The cheapest version of degreasing is the dish soap version and you will need warm water for it! It can be a good idea to get an aquarium heater because that will help you to macerate carcasses during the winter as well and quickens degreasing too. You can work with warm tap water, but that takes even longer.

But the dish soap method really takes time! Seems like this part is the longest one in skull cleaning. So even if it seems like my degreasing is not over and my method works, I can also see I won't have a pretty white cat skull anytime soon.

The bones are bathing for the third day in a row now and they seem to release the same amount of grease, so no sign of clear water yet. Also, when I pull the bones out of the water I can still see yellow spots on it - that is grease, sweeping to the surface and I need to get rid of that.

And how I will know my degreasing is done? My water stops being opaque. I can decide when to pull my bones out - do I want to fully degrease it or I decide to end it sooner because I want some discolouration, preserving am roe natural look.... that is up to me. Ideally, I wanna do a full degrease, but I just wanna preserve my bones perfectly to have quality art references that will be with be for a long time, so I try to go for a full degrease and will see how long that takes.

So just take your time, change your water as needed and enjoy the process :3 You cannot harm your bones this way, so happy experimenting!

#vulture culture #degreasing bones #skull degreasing #animal skulls #degrease #degreasing #dead animal #oddities #bone cleaning

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krscblw · 1 year ago

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ghoul perfume associations pt. 2 (halloween edition)!

halloween ghouls! a little bit murderous, a little bit monstrous. is the slight scent of blood from the perfume or did the ghouls just get back from a hunt? who knows.

(i thought it would be fun to make a Halloween/fall edition of the ghoul perfume list I made before, so here it is! for most of these the first scent is a little bit out there, and the second is more wearable/lighthearted.)

cw: themes of death and injury, a lot of talk about blood and murder

Aeon

Notes: clean linen, lavender, marshmallows, blood. Aeon smells clean and gentle, but that cleanliness is tinged red and metallic on the edges.

Perfumes:

Plutonian -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Soapy cleanliness sullied by blood and ashes.”

Sleepy Ghost -- Poesie Perfume

“Haunted by insomnia? Let this friendly ghost lull you to sleep with the blissful combination of marshmallow and lavender. You’ll be dreaming in no time!”

marshmallow pillows sprinkled with natural lavender essential oil and absolute for sweet dreams

Aether

Notes: amber, wood, blood. Aether smells warm and golden, resinous and a little bit spicy, like the ideal fall day spent lounging in front of the fireplace. But every so often you catch the edge of something that smells suspiciously like blood…

Perfumes:

Blood Amber -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Slivers of warm, pulsating blood forever crystallized in golden amber resin.”

The Dead Rise -- Poesie Perfume

“I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika. — Jonathan Harker’s journal”

dark roasted coffee beans spiked with fresh cardamom pods, cubes of brown sugar, ambroxan, cedar

Alpha

Notes: leather, smoke, spices, rot. Alpha smells aggressive and dangerous – and he is. Of all of the ghouls, Alpha is the most likely to admit to his hobby of hunting unsuspecting Abbey visitors for sport.

Perfumes:

Eau de Ghoul -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Dessicated skin coated in blackened ginger, cinnamon, and mold-flecked dirt, with cumin, bitter clove, leather, and dried blood.”

Hellfire -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“A scent celebrating Sir Francis Dashwood’s Order of the Knights of St. Francis of Wycombe, also known as the Hellfire Club. A swirl of pipe tobacco, hot leather, ambergris, dark musk and the lingering incense smoke from their Black Mass.”

Cirrus

Notes: dark fruits, musk, metal. Cirrus smells alluring enough that you can almost ignore the way her nails are a little too sharp, her smile a little too wild. Her idea of flirting is offering to help you hide a body, and you’re not sure she’s joking.

Perfumes:

The Enterprise of the Night -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Inspired by the opening pages of Circle of Blood. The scent of vice and darkness: flashing neon, oil-tinged petrichor, fading perfume, smeared lipstick, and the faintest touch of gunpowder residue.”

The Witch Queen -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Wild plum, red musk, tuberose, calla lily, heliotrope, pimento, ylang ylang and beeswax beneath a dark haze of sinister purple-hued incense smoke.”

Cumulus

Notes: florals, sugar, poisonous chemicals. Cumulus smells sweet, sugary in a way that gets stuck to your gums and makes your teeth ache. She has the face – and scent – of an angel, but something about the way her eyes follow you makes you uneasy.

Perfumes:

Shelley, Byron, and Keats -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Uncompromising idealism, haunted romanticism, fatal ennui, and a heady amount of scandal and vice: red roses and pale carnation with a draught of laudanum, smears of opium tar, a hint of absinthe, and mercury ointment.”

Tiny Phantom -- Poesie Perfume

“You see it there in the glass, a tiny phantom - a glimpse of white in an otherwise dark room. But there’s no need to scream, and there’s no need to faint -- the thing in the darkness is you.”

innocent pink roses, marshmallow buttercream, pale white musk, antique mahogany

Dewdrop

Notes: dark fruits, smoke, ash. Dew smells like the remnants of a house fire that may or may not have been set on purpose. He smells like if you knew what was good for you, you wouldn’t let him out of your sight.

Perfumes:

Djinn -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Myths surrounding the Djinn paint them as many things: benevolent champions of mankind and slaves to mad sorcerers, malicious incubi / succubi and energy vampires, or malevolent harbingers of madness and disease.”

The scent of black smoke, of crackling flames, and smoldering ashes.

Silent Hill -- Spirit and Venom

“The combination of foggy air, deep fire smoke, dark pomegranate, and hints of overturned dirt and honey. Welcome to Silent Hill!”

Ifrit

Notes: black tea, brimstone, incense. Ifrit smells dark and clinging, slinky in a way that sets you on edge. He smells like going to sleep and knowing you won’t wake up.

Perfumes:

The Chapel -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“In the center of the room, a groveling figure is crouched before a woman draped in purple-black clerical robes. The woman’s eyes are filled with righteous hellfire, and she extends a hand in benediction to the man who has fallen prostrate at her feet. He murmurs, “Libera Te Ex Caelum”, and she gestures for him to rise. As he gets to his knees he winces in pain and moans in a strange expression of ecstasy, and you see small horns growing from his skull.”

Black incense, bitter wine, brimstone, bile, and blood.

Darkness -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Bottled gloom; the essence of oblivion. Blackest opium and narcissus deepened by myrrh.”

Mist

Notes: water, herbs, blood. Mist smells herbal and cold, like the transition of fall into winter. She smells a little bit sweet, a little bit metallic, a little bit dangerous. Her scent reminds you of rain so heavy and cold you can barely take a breath.

Perfumes:

Frostbite with Polar Bear Attack -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Slashes of sleet punctured by a coppery gout of blood.”

Villa Diodati -- Poesie Perfume

“A stately house on the edge of Lake Geneva, ringed by Swiss Alps so picturesque they look painted on the sky, in 1816 Villa Diodati hosted a group of travellers whose time there would forever be marked in history. As storms raged outside, in its candlelit rooms Mary Shelley conceived of her mad scientist and his iconic monster. Down the hall, poor Doctor Polidori (who was hopelessly in love with Mary and possibly Byron), was penning a little story that would inspire another little story. Bram Stoker’s Dracula. You may have heard of it.”

pungent wild rosemary and fresh balsam pine, crystal clear lakewater, dry, dark vanilla

Mountain

Notes: greenery, earth, poisonous mushrooms. Mountain smells like crushed leaves, like little brown mushrooms, like the change in the air when the calender hits October. He smells earthy and damp, as if he spent the day digging holes… for plants, of course. Right?

Perfumes:

Sinister Groundskeeper -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“A menacing figure in grassy overalls and mud-flecked boots, with a wheelbarrow full of sharp yet rust-stained implements. At least, it looks like rust…”

Clods of moist soil, crushed dandelions, and the coppery clove-tang of dried blood.

Death Cap -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“A lethal poison bundled up in a dainty, innocent little package that was oft times found in ancient witches’ flying ointments and astral projection balms. A warm, soft, ruddy scent, earthy and mild.”

Nimbus*

Notes: peach, rose, blood. Nimbus smells sweet – slightly earthy, slightly metallic – but overwhelmingly like peaches that are so ripe they fall apart in your hands. She smells like the thorn bushes that shrikes impale their prey on – but there aren’t any corpses in her garden. Probably.

Perfumes:

Sentence First, Verdict Afterwards -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Off with her head: white roses, tea roses, climbing roses, blood red roses, and a cluster of thorns, blood-spattered and sword-sharp, with clove bud and tobacco flower.”

Astaroth -- Fantome

“Ripe peaches, pumpkin flesh over a bed of red musk, honey cakes drizzled with white chocolate, & roasted pistachios.”

*i headcanon nimbus as a earth/air multi

Omega

Notes: wood, amber, ink. Omega smells like the ghost of a once-warm sitting room. He smells like amber, like polished wood, like seeing something out of the corner of your eye and feeling watched for hours afterward.

Perfumes:

Quintessence of Dust -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“The passing: beeswax and smoke, yellowed paper and well-worn leather books, droplets of spilled ink, faded incense, blood-tinged salty tears, and the metal of the knife that skewers that illiterate zombie philistine’s portrait.”

Parlour -- Fantome

“Parlour is an atmospheric fragrance that is inspired by a 19th century Parlour at the height of the Spiritualism movement. Conjuring the dimly-lit rooms filled with dusty spirt boards, sweet wood, and magic.”

A darkly polished mahogany rapping table, spirit boards, sweet rosewood chests, burning incense, and a hint of vetiver

(i have this one and i love it sm, it's the best woody scent in my collection)

Rain

Notes: seawater, ozone. Rain smells like the ocean right before a storm: murky, almost-sweet, hair-raising. He smells like swimming in deep water and feeling something grab your ankle a little bit too tight for you to believe that it was just kelp. But it had to be, surely there isn’t anything else down there…

Perfumes:

Cthulhu -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“A creeping, wet, slithering scent, dripping with seaweed, oceanic plants and dark, unfathomable waters.”

Circe Individiosa -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Salt-spray dotting an azure cove, its waters swirling with noxious poisons and venom drawn from dreadful roots: a cascade of blackcurrant and crystalline blue-green waters infused with theriac accord, bruised henbane accord, white gardenia, pear, cedarwood, emerald mosses, tuberose, and bitter almond.”

Sunshine/Stratus**

Notes: summer fruits, spices, smoke. Sunny smells like the end of summer, right as it turns into fall. She smells like roasting marshmallows, like sticky heat, like biting into a late-summer strawberry and finding it rotten inside.

Perfumes:

Tongue Wall -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Fleshy and fruity: guava musk, slick strawberry lip gloss, and blood-tainted digestive juices.”

Zombie -- Possets

“You really need a big dose of toasted marshmallow and oude, a bit of burnt stick, and the unmistakable fragrance of the crisp autumn air. The obvious combination, wouldn't you say? Resinous and foody at the same time. Smoky, sticky fun.”

**i headcanon sunny as a fire/air multi

Swiss***

Notes: smoke, musk, patchouli, blood. Swiss smells like darkness so thick that there could be something right in front of you and you would have no idea – or maybe right behind you. He smells like earthy resin, wine the color of blood, and curling smoke. Something about his scent leaves a metallic tang in the back of your throat.

Perfumes:

Dead for Filth -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Raw Patchouli, opoponax, and a coppery dry blood exhale.”

Nosferatu -- Black Baccara

“A rustling of leaves appears before the footfalls as a group of pale vampires emerge from the autumn darkness. They bring with them the aroma of archaic earth, deep red wine, tobacco smoke, and red roses.”

dark patchouli, deep red roses, aged red wine, dirt, tobacco smoke, and fireplace embers

***i headcanon swiss as a fire/water multi

Zephyr

Notes: dust, ozone, dry rot. Zephyr smells like a house long abandoned: dusty, faintly sweet, a little bit like rotting floorboards. It’s a scent that draws you in as much as it pushes you away – like a haunted house that has become so lonely, it will do anything to make you stay.

Perfumes:

Yorick -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

“Grave dirt, bone, decay, angel’s trumpet, and moldering scraps of shroud: the essence of finality.”

Attic Ghosts - Paranormal Perfumes

“Attic Ghosts is an antique, timeless Victorian mansion. The house on the hill. Flickering lights in the hallways, shadows in the windows. Footsteps. Apparitions. A locked door to the attic.”

dusty wood, chestnut, smoke whisps, vanilla absolute, orange blossom, rose petals, jasmine, vetiver

if you got this far, thank you for reading! this one was SO fun to make, i hope y'all like it too. (and as always i would love to talk more about this/hear other people's thoughts!!)

#please note the formatting is a little weird on mobile #so if there are parts that are cut off you should still be able to see them on desktop #ghost bc #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghoul perfume thoughts #nameless ghoulettes

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seradyn · 1 year ago

Text

I Won’t Let Go

Ruben x Reader fluff

Helping Ruben cope with a seizure, giving him lots of cuddles and comfort afterwards.

For my dear @broteinshake69 , based on this post.

Word Count: 3611

^ I am incapable of writing short one-shots :)

TW: None

I am not a neuroscientist, nor have I ever had a seizure, so I hope you can excuse the pseudoscience and inaccurate depiction x)

Les go

———————————————————————

A soft, familiar squelch filled his ears as the scalpel cut cleanly through the brain. Each incision was made with practiced precision, every wave of the small knife deliberate. He’d done this so many times before, it was second nature by now. Dissect, record, kill, dissect, record, he’d done it since he’d freed himself from beneath his parent’s thumbs. Since he got out of the basement. Ironic, now that he’d set up his main lab there.

Today was no different, though Ruben had chosen to focus on one particular part of the brain; the cerebellum. It sat lower on the organ, closer to the brainstem, meaning he often had to kill his subjects to get to it. No matter, the data was more than worth it. And it was there waiting for him, a wellspring of neurotransmitters and chemical reactions. The mind’s response to his live dissections etched into the stone walls of chemistry.

With one final, satisfying cut, the gelatinous glob fell from the rest of the organ, the gentle weight falling into a gloved hand. Ruben placed it onto its own tray, shoving the rest of the brain into a corner. He’d have to discard it before it began to rot, but that could wait. His scarred fingers twitched with the anticipation of new data. His creation, STEM, was nearly ready for its first prototype, he was so close.

Standing, he went to retrieve the rest of the tools he’d need, listing them off as he removed his gloves; syringes, sharper scalpels, a microscope. Things he preferred not cluttering his desk while he worked on getting the parts he needed. Sometimes he could work on the surgical tables marking the center of his ‘exam rooms’, but alas, he still needed to dispose of the body, too. Something that only served to waste his time, which could be spent doing research.

He grunted with the weight of some of the equipment, his hands sending dull shocks of pain up his arms. Ruben had years to cope with the weakness of his body after the fire, but it was moments like these that made him grit his teeth in silent rage. That day had rendered his existence one of constant pain and strife, and he was loath to be reminded of such.

Though that rage quickly simmered down, burning with a low heat in his chest. That was why he was doing this research, after all. His body, his life…his sister. What he lost, he would get back.

One subject, one dissection, one brain at a time.

Ruben let out a tense sigh, his robe catching the stale air as he spun around, awkwardly walking back to his desk with the bulky microscope cradled in his hands. He only wished it wasn’t taking so long. His project was years in the making, and he knew it would take years more for it to come to fruition. Truthfully, he was frustrated by it all. He was tired of living this joke.

The microscope hit his desk with a dull thud, the scars on his hands and fingers aching from the excursion. He shook them out, flexing his fingers to tame the soreness in his joints. The day was still young, and he was determined to make the most of it.

Ruben picked up his scalpel, positioning the cerebellum so his cuts would be clean along its length. To get the proper images, he’d need slices as thin as hairs, which meant there was little room for error. Too thick and he wouldn’t be able to see what he was looking for, too thin and there wouldn’t be enough to work with. He would be injecting them with dye, which in turn would react with the various chemicals throughout the soft tissue, changing the dye’s color. Crude methods, certainly, but they delivered the desired results. The way the brain coped with such high levels of stress, fear, and pain - he would have that as his prize.

Or, at least that was the plan. Plans which came to a grinding halt when Ruben found himself unable to move his arm or hand.

Puzzled, he furrowed his brow, glancing at the offending limb. It was frozen in midair, scalpel raised, as if stuck in time. He tried to force it into motion, but it didn’t budge, the muscles stiffened without his consent. Frustrated, he turned his attention back to the brain on his desk, hoping his muscles would relax after a moment. It wasn’t unusual for his body to just give out on him, much to his annoyance, but with any luck, it would pass after a few moments.

Ruben was caught off guard though, when his vision began to swim. He couldn’t focus on any one thing, all of it smearing into a watery mess of indistinguishable colors. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his muddy eyes, but there was no relief.

He heard a distinct clatter, that of metal striking metal. He’d dropped his scalpel, it took him too long to realize. He hadn’t even felt it, couldn’t perceive as his fingers closed around nothing. He could feel his breaths becoming frantic, his body not listening to his commands. The colors warped, shifted and melded, until everything began to go dark…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knew something wasn’t right when you heard a metallic tink as you were coming down the basement stairs. The place was usually home to similar sounds, that of Ruben exchanging one tool for another while he worked, but this time it sounded different. Louder, more chaotic, like something had been dropped. That wasn’t like him - Ruben was meticulous, and took great care of his equipment. It wasn’t like him to be careless.

You’d been on your way down to deliver some water when you heard it. Ruben had trouble remembering his own physical needs while he was working, meaning more often than not, that duty fell to you. You made sure he stayed hydrated, and had something to eat if he got hungry between meals. He feigned irritation, stubborn as he was about being able to take care of himself, but you knew he appreciated what you did. The glasses were always empty when you came back to retrieve them, and his supply of snacks was always steadily depleting. While he didn’t approve of you being in his lab for long, he allowed you these short visits.

Besides, you always sweetened the deal by giving him a quick kiss before you went back upstairs, and you both knew Ruben couldn’t refuse you when you did that.

All such pretense went down the drain when you heard the strange noise, your heart jumping a little. You hurried the rest of the way down, dropping off the glass on a random table when you reached the bottom. Without hesitation, you barged into the room he was working in, not caring if he got mad at you for the intrusion. He was standing before his desk on the far wall, hand poised above a pink blob on a tray. Part of a brain, you supposed, but you hadn’t the foggiest idea which piece.

More worryingly, Ruben hadn’t acknowledged you when you came in. You tilted your head at him quizzically.

��Ruben?” You said, voice meek as you tentatively stepped forward. He offered no response, which only made your concern grow. Upon getting closer, you noticed a slight tremble to his form.

“Ruben? Ruben, what's wrong?” You said, more frantic now. You’d never seen him act like this, and you hadn’t a clue what could be causing him to do so.

You reached out a hand to steady him. His trembling only seemed to be getting worse.

Before you could graze the fabric of his robe with your fingers, his legs appeared to give out. Eyes widening, you jumped forward to catch him, yelping as he dragged you down to the floor with his weight. You collapsed in a tangled heap, Ruben’s body cushioned by your own. The concrete was cold, unforgiving as it bit into your tailbone.

Recovering from the tumble, you looked down at the man in your lap, opening your mouth to ask more questions. You just as quickly froze, feeling Ruben’s body twitch and convulse in your lap. The blood drained from your face, heart in your throat as you watched his body jerk violently.

Seizure, your brain offered through its panic.

“Fuck,” you muttered, setting Ruben gently down on the floor, mind whirling with what you were supposed to do.

He’d warned you this was a possibility. When you two started a relationship, he’d given you a laundry list of various complications that arose from his injuries. Numbness, trouble with temperature regulation, limited movement, muscle stiffness, and yes, seizures were on that list. He told you they happened more often when he was a boy, his body unable to cope with the loss of so much tissue. They didn’t happen as much anymore, but they would never fully go away. There was always a chance of one happening.

Too great a chance, you thought, ripping off your shirt and putting it under his head. He’d given you some basic instructions on what to do if he ever went into such a state, back when he explained all this. It was a bit hard to concentrate though, heart like a drum as you watched him seize.

Safety, safety first, you reminded yourself, spotting a scalpel close by - the one he dropped, you presumed. You quickly snatched it away from him, setting it on his desk so he wouldn’t cut himself. Next, you remembered him telling you to time his seizures, to make sure they didn’t last too long. You grabbed at your phone with shaky fingers, fumbling with the device until you finally got a timer going. Make sure he’s breathing, don’t hold him down, keep things out of his mouth, your mind recited the list, mentally checking off each one as you did it.

His last instruction, stay calm, was admittedly quite a bit harder to honor.

How were you supposed to stay calm with your love seizing on the floor?!

What was minutes felt like hours. You sat beside him, feeling useless and scared as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. Ruben told you these weren’t a huge deal, and you trusted him, but being in the presence of it was something else entirely. You felt like you should be able to do more, make it less torturous somehow, but the logical part of you knew you couldn’t. Now it was just about waiting.

Slowly, his muscles began to settle, the spasms happening less often, their strength waning. You spared a look at his face, frowning at the grimace still on it. You hoped he wasn’t in pain. You peeked at the timer; 1 minute 40 seconds, it read.

You let out an anxious breath, rocking back on your shins. Not a medical emergency, then, if it was already clearing up. For that at least, you were grateful.

A deep groan filled the room, and your attention snapped back to Ruben. He was finally starting to regain consciousness, squeezing his eyes tightly shut against the fluorescent bulbs overhead. Once you were sure it was safe, you scooped him up into your lap, cradling his head and shoulders while you softly whispered his name. You nudged his nose with your own, trying to get him to open his eyes. You needed to know he was okay. His flesh was cold, and you held him firmly, giving him as much of your warmth and comfort as you could.

Eventually, it worked. Ruben groaned again, a deep, pained sound, eyelids parting a crack to look up at you. They looked glassy, like he’d abruptly been awoken from a deep sleep. You gave his shoulders a light squeeze, delicately stroking the scarred side of his face while his good side pressed against your chest.

“Ruben, are you okay?” You asked gently, looking at him with clear worry etched into your face.

He blinked at you a few times, taking a moment to process your words.

“I…What happened?” He croaked, his voice horse. You’d have to remember to make him drink something.

“You had a seizure,” was your simple reply. You tried your best to sound calm, but your voice wavered as you spoke, giving you away. “I did my best to keep you safe and comfortable.”

Ruben studied your face for a moment before he nodded stiffly, his attention leaving you to scan the room.

“And where…are we?” He asked.

Ah, the confusion. You remembered he told you that was the most common symptom. Seizures almost always left their victims confused and disoriented.

“We’re in your lab, at the manor,” you told him. He seemed pleased with that answer, the last of the stiffness leaving him as he relaxed into you. Your heart melted as he nuzzled his face into your sternum, blinking lazily as he let out a contented sigh.

Loath as you were to move him, you knew this wasn’t the best place for him to rest.

“Hey,” you kissed his forehead to get his attention. Those pale irises snapped to you instantly; he couldn’t resist your touch. “I’ll take you to bed, okay?” You waited for a response, and after another nod, you continued. “Do you want me to get your wheelchair, or can you stand?”

His nose wrinkled at the mention of his chair. You knew he hated it, hated how much it reminded him how weak his body was, but with mobility being a common issue, he needed to keep it around. You wished for his sake he used it more often, but you never pushed the matter.

“I can walk,” he said quickly. He didn’t need the help, he could do it himself.

To prove his point, he tried to sit up. Tried, being the operative word. His adam’s apple bobbed with anguished grunts as his muscles screamed in protest. Everything was sore, like he’d just run a marathon in sweltering heat. His teeth ground together as he slumped forward, head hung as he fought down a wave of nausea.

“Hey,” you said again, supporting his back so he wouldn’t fall and hit his head. “Don’t push yourself. I’ll take you as far as I can, but if you need the wheelchair, please just ask for it. Now is not the time to be stubborn.”

Ruben huffed at you, but he knew he was in no position to argue. “Fine,” he hissed, letting you loop his arm behind your neck. With a quick countdown, you were able to hoist him up, both of you stumbling a little as you found your footing. His scars pressed up against you as he used you for support, and you did your best not to cause them any unnecessary irritation. After making sure Ruben was okay, you began your slow, awkward hobble up to the second floor.

It was a long, arduous process. One made almost entirely in silence, both of you struggling to put one foot in front of another. Only two questions from him broke the silence on your journey there: how long was the seizure, and why weren’t you wearing a shirt. You had to stifle a laugh at the second one, but you answered them honestly. It wasn’t long before you reached the bedroom, causing you both to sag in relief. You had to kick the door open, leading him inside as gravity shut it behind you.

He plopped onto the sheets heavily, panting from the pain plaguing his joints. You sat down next to him, taking his hand in yours, rubbing his knuckles with your thumb to sooth him. You couldn’t begin to imagine how hard something as simple as walking must be after that, especially with his burns already making movement difficult. Your own shoulders were sore from holding him up, but it was a small price to pay if it lessened his own suffering, even if only a little.

After a pause, Ruben sighed, lifting his head to stare at the wall opposite you.

“This is pointless,” he grumbled, turning to meet your gaze. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes. I should be back in the lab.”

Your brows drew down at that, eyes narrowing. Even for him, that was an insane notion. You leaned forward, placing a single finger on his charred nose.

“Liar,” you accused sternly. “I know you want to do more, but you’re in no condition to be running experiments. You need to rest.”

Ruben scowled, removing your hand from his face. “I need to get back to work. I’ve lost enough time as it is.”

You scowled back at him, a harsh rebuttal on the tip of your tongue, but you stopped yourself. The expression just as quickly dissolved, replaced by worry and sorrow. You knew how important his work was to him, you knew what he’d done to obtain it. Aside from you, it was everything to him.

“I know,” you said softly. You pushed the hood of his robe down, revealing his scarred, hairless face. You ran your hand along the edge of his jawline, admiring how handsome he looked like that. “I know it means a lot to you…I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He gave you an incredulous look, but you weren’t finished. “I know you’d stay down there every waking moment if you could, and I don’t fault you for that. But I can’t stand the thought of finding you impaled on your own equipment, or one of your subjects getting out because a seizure impaired your judgment. I don’t want to think about what could happen to you if you don’t give yourself a break. So if you can’t do it for yourself, can you at least do it for me?”

Ruben didn’t say anything at first, his eyes rolling over your face while you stroked his own. Part of you expected him to keep arguing; after all, he’d survived this long without you.

Instead, it hardly took a moment before his features began to soften, and he melted into your touch. His eyes closed in sweet bliss as you traced his scars with a loving reverence, basking in the way you worshiped his body.

“Alright,” he breathed. When he looked at you, his eyes were filled with a subtle adoration. “I’ll rest. But only if you promise to stay with me.”

Your face lit up at his condition, smiled brightly at him. You leaned forward, brushing his lips with yours.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you purred, smirking as his pupils widened with desire, a tiny shiver rippling across his skin. God, how easily he became putty in your hands.

Before he got any ideas though, you pulled away, wordlessly tugging at the sleeves of his robe. You both knew it would only catch on his scars while he was under the covers, so it needed to come off. He let you carefully remove it, not a word uttered from either of you as you threw it over your shoulder. You’d deal with it in the morning.

Averting your gaze from his bare chest, heat rushing to your cheeks, you wormed your way back onto the bed, flopping down onto your back. As an afterthought, you unclasped your bra, pulling your arms through it as you tossed it onto the floor. Like hell you were going to sleep in that. Satisfied, you beckoned Ruben to join you, holding out your hand invitingly.

Unfortunately, he was a tad busy, staring wide eyed at your form, to notice. He still wasn’t used to seeing such things, even after living together with you for months.

“No funny business,” you teased, lightly pulling on his arm to make him lay down.

His eyes flicked up and down, meeting yours before admiring you again.

“No promises,” he smirked.

You scoffed, pulling on him enough to finally coax him into action. He hesitantly crawled over you, lowering himself as you wrapped your arms around his waist. He let out another happy sigh as your breasts squished against his flesh, so soft, so warm. You traced along his spine with the pads of your fingers as he buried himself in the crook of your neck, letting your chin rest atop his head. Legs intertwining, he gently clutched at your shoulders while you pulled the blankets over your bodies. You smiled at the feeling of the dual textures of his rough, burnt skin and the smooth, untouched parts of it. The buttons of Ruben’s pants dug into your thigh, but you hardly noticed, instead enjoying this moment of affection between the two of you. You knew you were likely to wake up alone, Ruben having gone back to his lab, so you were going to savor this as long as you could.

As his breathing began to even out, you placed a few final kisses on the crown of his head.

“Rest now, my love,” you whispered, hands continuing their ministrations. “Rest, and I might just let you go back to work tomorrow.”

“As if you could stop me,” Ruben quipped, but his speech was slurred, his heart not in it. Shortly after, his breathing slowed considerably, and you knew he was fast asleep. He must’ve been exhausted; he didn’t usually fall asleep so fast.

Happy he was heeding your words, you closed your eyes, determined to follow suit. You imagined sitting by him in the music room, Ruben expertly plucking a melancholy tune from his piano as you drifted off to sleep.

———————————————————————

It’s been way too fucking long since I posted any fanfics, I almost forgot how I even format my own posts >.<

Anyway, more Ruben x Reader fluff in the future.

#ruvik x reader #ruben victoriano #ruben ruvik victoriano #ruvik victoriano #ruvik #ruben victoriano x reader

106 notes · View notes

ryhmus · 3 months ago

Text

ROWAN and FLOWER

In order to tell the story of these two, allow me, the STRANGER to paint the full picture...

In the early days when the Dreamer sought to escape the reality of his actions, he created the very first iteration of HEADSPACE. A safe place where he could be free of his guilt.

FLOWER

HEART; 10

JUICE; 60

ATTACK; 0

DEFENSE; 5

SPEED; 20

LUCK; 10

HIT; 9999

SKILLS; ENCOURAGE, HUG TIME!, SAD LOOK, CUDDLE

Likes; everyone he meets, cute things, flowers, ROWAN, board games, doing anything, SPROUT MOLES, being kind, hugs, making flower crowns, daisies, honey tea, cooking.

Dislikes; violence, lemons, not a whole lot really...

"I don't have a catchphrase? Should I have one?" -FLOWER

The very first version of Sunny's imaginary dream Basil in the very short lived first ever HEADSPACE. Much of FLOWER'S early life is unknown as when HEADSPACE, but his time when it fell shows him and the Dreamer's vessel at the time dubbed, OMORIBOY were left alone in the dark for a long time until the vessel without a host would rot away and leave nothing.

A year passed when FLOWER is saved by ROWAN from a HELLMARI. the two boys grow a bond together as they travel BLACK SPACE and attempt to help those unaffected to find a way out.

Their journey would come to an abrupt end when ROWAN discovered that he'd been replaced and forgotten about, a revelation that finally broke him and no matter how much FLOWER tried to help, the goth boy would succumb to BLACK SPACE and become a SOMETHING.

FLOWER, distraught by being alone again, would then follow shortly after...

More time would pass when D.R.E.A.M., an illicit organization that had seized Sunny's mind and recently found BLACK SPACE, exhumed two SOMETHINGS and with MEDUSA'S chemical research and her blueprints used to create a perfect clone, restored the two back to their original states.

BATTLE...

FLOWER lacks fighting ability due to his extremely unfinished state. However his SKILLS are all based around pure support, his SKILLS can heal, grant EMOTION buffs and raise STATS. FLOWER can only experience the first stage of any EMOTION except for ANGRY, which he incapable of feeling.

He has a very small SKILL set and his abysmal STATS, FLOWER is not built for combat...

PERSONALITY

FLOWER is a gentle soul by nature, kindness is his first answer to anything, he always looks for the good in anyone he meets and always tries to befriend them to a fault. Sometimes that naivety leads to him being taken advantage of. He can be clumsy and gets scared easily.

His relationship with ROWAN is a deep caring bond and love and would throw himself in harm's way to protect him if it came to it.

FLOWER'S appearance in HEADSPACE was made from a vague sense of a memory of a flower princess Aubrey had drawn for Basil's birthday...

UNIQUE SKILL; BOUNDLESS POSITIVITY

Regenerates JUICE at the end of the enemy's turn, enemies will almost never target FLOWER. When tagged as leader in the overworld, enemies will remain passive towards the party unless directly engaged.

ROWAN

HEART; 700

JUICE; 500

ATTACK; 100

DEFENSE; 90

SPEED; 190

LUCK; 2

HIT; 4

SKILLS; LASH OUT, ONSLAUGHT, COPYCAT, DODGE, RESTORATION, UPROOT, TRAMPLE, SPINNING SHOVEL, CROSS THUNDER SPLIT ATTACK,

likes; gardening, classical music, fighting, raspberry juice, FLOWER, Aubrey, excessive use of foul language (swearing is fun), Basil, doing anything stupid with KEL, Hot sauce, reckless violence, nightshade flowers, ORANGE OASIS.

dislikes; OMORI, cars, authority, guns, deep water, HUMPHREY, peanuts (is allergic), Hot Topic, BASIL*, SPROUT MOLES, OMORI, Titan arum, the corpse flower, OMORI (He really hates that guy okay?) unfair treatment.

"I don't play by the rules, except my own, if you don't like that, too bad." -ROWAN

ROWAN was created in the second version of HEADSPACE to replace FLOWER. Though he was given a higher purpose to act as HEADSPACE'S powerful guardian, doing battle with the creatures of the dark void below the dream world.

ROWAN lived a peaceful uneventful life until one day, a strange photograph that had fallen from his scrapbook would turn his world and everything he knew about it on it's head...

He had become the first of many in to discover the Truth about Mari...

But rather than tell everyone, the goth boy puts his duty first and joins on an adventure with the other dream friends to find answers along the way for the photo. In PYREFLY, he reaches the end of the LOST FOREST and is confronted by DADDY LONG LEGS, warning him not to go further in his foolish quest and the consequences of his goals. But ROWAN remained confident and determined in his abilities, leaving DADDY LONG LEGS no choice to give him what he wanted.

The knowledge of that day was devastating, seeing the Accident happen through Basil's eyes and watching them frame Mari's death leading to the birth of SOMETHING and creation of a world that neither he nor everything in it was not real, deeply traumatized ROWAN, his eyes permanently turning from emerald green to dark red, scarred from what he had seen.

despite it all, The guardian of HEADSPACE had one final desperate plan; to find a way to put the Dreamer, Sunny into a coma and use the time to wipe clean his memory of the Truth, and help him life free of guilt and still keep his dream world-an effort to fueled by the instability of his mind.

If there was no Truth to hide from, Sunny wouldn't have a reason to get rid of HEADSPACE.

OMORI would catch on to and confront ROWAN on his strange behavior, confirming that he knew what ROWAN was doing that it would end up killing Sunny. The two argued over what was right and OMORI ended up banishing ROWAN to BLACK SPACE and resetting the dream world and wiping all traces of the goth boy.

ROWAN'S life in BLACK SPACE was a hell that repeatedly killed him over and over again and wore down his will over time. The only comfort he had was the small boy FLOWER whom he befriended and fiercely protected. Ever strong-willed, ROWAN still held on that he could get back in OMORI'S good graces if he found him and explained his plans and intentions further.

That too was shattered when he found the monochrome boy ascending back to HEADSPACE with a green haired boy...

ROWAN had been replaced...and swore on that day that he'd get his revenge on OMORI for abandoning him...

The goth boy never found a way out and would succumb to BLACK SPACE in a cruel twist of irony, he became the thing he was made to destroy.

His story however wasn't over. Two years passed and he was suddenly awake in a world of color again amidst lab equipment and other strange things.

D.R.E.A.M. made him an offer he couldn't refuse...

BATTLE!

ROWAN in BATTLE is unique, he acts as an over-glorified cheat code and hits incredible hard to boot, from canceling enemy attacks with his own, to unique SKILLS that counter an enemy's strongest STAT. ROWAN is one of the few individuals capable of achieving a fourth EMOTION state. (LIVID, HOPELESS, UNHINGED) outside BATTLE, ROWAN has superhuman strength and agility, much similar to but stronger that the more modern Dream friends. This extreme power possibly stems from Sunny making him with the belief that if he was going to keep HEADSPACE safe, he needed to be unbeatable.

But ROWAN is far from invincible...

PERSONALITY

On the surface, ROWAN is the physical image of a rebellious teenager, he's rude and crude, cocky to the point of overconfidence, He resents being told what to do and has a short temper that leads to bouts of violence.

But look deeper and you see someone who cares deeply about his friends and his given duty to protect his home. ROWAN will do whatever it takes to keep those he cares about out of harm. He encourages his friends to live how they want to live, no matter what they're told.

He's also been known to be quite the prankster, often ringing KEL in along with his schemes and causing trouble, (Vandalizing SWEETHEART'S CASTLE being just one)

ROWAN'S weapon of choice is his trusty Shovel lovingly named 'Beethoven', after his favorite genre of music. He is highly adept with the tool and can throw it like a spear or spin it around.

Sunny was inspired to create ROWAN from a drawing Kel made during Basil's eighth birthday of Basil as a superhero...

UNIQUE SKILL; RULEBREAKER: ROWAN can attack and use SKILLS at any time during BATTLES, even during the enemy's turn. Deals extra damage to SOMETHING enemies. When tagged as leader in the overworld, most enemies will run from the party.

#omori #omori noli mei oblivisci au #sprite art #omori rowan #omori flower #lore #very long #backstory #oc

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nametakensff · 1 month ago

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hello! Love your writing! I’ve never played D/isco E/lysium but read your fics anyway because they’re just THAT GOOD. Anywayyy this ask is actually abt your incredible steddie writing! was wondering what your steddie head cannons are in the mutual fetish au?? Maybe before they discover the fetish is mutual - How do each of the boys feel about sneezing in public? Embarrassed or could care less? How do they usually cover (or not cover lol)? Do they excuse themselves? Are they able to stifle or control their sneezes? Do their sneezes change if they’re sick vs allergies vs random tickle? Are they courteous sick people or clueless patient zeros lol? Any and all additional thoughts are more than welcome bcs I currently have brain rot after reading your series!!

Ahhh!! 😭💕 Thank you so much, anon! It means the world that you would read my DE stuff even if you’re not into the game yourself ✨️

As for S/teddie, I do have some headcanons that more or less continue throughout the series, though I haven’t read any of my fics back in a while so I apologise for any glaring inconsistencies 😅 I’ll answer your questions then see what else there is to mention!

💕 S/teddie Mutual Fetish AU headcanons 💕

(Loooong answers under readmore! Some NSFW things, naturally)

Maybe before they discover the fetish is mutual - How do each of the boys feel about sneezing in public? Embarrassed or could care less?

🖤Eddie🖤

He doesn’t mind sneezing in public in general – like, the odd sneeze here or there. They’re not nearly as loud or attention-grabbing as Steve's. However, the issue is that he has fucking awful allergies. Not just seasonal ones like his hayfever and mould in the autumn, but to a ton of chemical scents like perfumes and hairsprays, then also dust, and feathers…He’s just got an extremely sensitive nose. Combine that with the fact that he is prone to multiples and often has drawn-out fits if he can’t escape the source of irritation, it is less than ideal. If he’s having a rough time, and hasn’t been able to take any medication, then the sneezing will draw a lot of attention that he just cannot be bothered dealing with.

Another issue is that he gets off to his own sneezing – especially if he keeps going. So he has to deal with the humiliation of people watching and maybe cruelly judging him and the risk of popping a boner.

So, to summarise: a couple of sneezes here and there are no problem at all. He won’t think too much about it. He’ll probably even enjoy it and the odd blessing he gets from friends. But sneezing in public when his allergies are going haywire? Super embarrassing, incredibly unfortunate. Finding out about Steve’s mutual interest is a game changer for him – he becomes stupidly exhibitionistic around Steve but also gains a little more confidence in general.

💙Steve💙

He hates sneezing in public. He’s good at hiding that he hates it, but still – it is not fun. Because others sneezing is so intensely sexual for him, he feels uncomfortable doing the same around other people. Steve’s sneezes are also very loud, and he is terrible at holding back and stifling. Given that his sneezes are big in general, they can get messy fast. Huge, spraying affairs that make everyone around him jump several feet in the air. It’s just no fun for him at all, though he has enjoyed the flirtatious blessings he often gets from the girls he courts (or rather, courted before Eddie).

Steve is more prone to colds than Eddie. I don’t see him having any significant allergies except for to the odd scent – but when he does have an allergic reaction, his sneezes are just as colossal. I haven’t explored it a massive amount but I’ve really been thinking recently about him being a photic sneezer – not horribly sensitive, but bright sunlight will make him sneeze a couple of times a day unless he takes the precaution of wearing sunglasses.

After getting to know about Eddie's mutual fetish and starting their relationship together, Steve is still pretty embarrassed about sneezing in public. He learns to love indulging his boyfriend, and the fact that Eddie gets off to how big and loud and messy his sneezes are makes him feel marginally less disgusting. Even still, I don’t think it’s something he would ever really get used to.

How do they usually cover (or not cover lol)?

🖤Eddie🖤

He will, if in public or has it on hand, try and cover with his bandana or one of his handkerchiefs. Since he tends to sneeze regularly, he’ll more often than not have these with him, occasionally a pack of tissues. When at home, he will still sneeze into things – if not his bandana/handkerchiefs or tissues, then shirts and blankets. He enjoys the way the fabric feels on his poor nose. He tends to wriggle his nose around a lot, and really gets indulgent with rubbing it. He tries to do this less in public to avoid having a visibly pink nose.

He sneezes openly a fair amount as well – sometimes the tickle, especially from allergies, is too much for him so he’ll just let it go and wipe whatever he may have baptised after he’s done lol. I think because he’s such a sneezy individual, if his mind is otherwise occupied (working on music or a D&D campaign, for example) he would sneeze whilst barely acknowledging it, perhaps leaning towards his shoulder briefly.

If Steve is around, he will happily sneeze uncovered, covered, all over Steve etc – whatever will get him the most worked up. He loves when Steve holds handkerchiefs for him to sneeze into and melts if he starts massaging his nose for him.

💙Steve💙

He tries to cover. God help him, he tries. But he is often so paralysed by the build-up and so slow in his movements it’s all he can do to turn away from anyone in the potential splash zone when the sneeze hits.

If he manages it, he’ll sneeze into his elbow or a tissue, but more often than not he’s either making a total mess of his hands or the hastily raised collar of his shirt.

He also likes when Eddie covers his sneezes for him, but only in private, and it takes a lot of getting used to since his sneezes tend to render whatever is being used to cover them useless pretty quickly. The first time he sneezes a tissue in Eddie’s hand to pulp is mortifying, even though Eddie is pretty much dying of arousal.

Do they excuse themselves?

🖤Eddie🖤

He will excuse himself and sometimes bless himself, but it isn't an automatic habit to do so. He’s obviously got a loud and audacious reputation, so on occasion I can see him not particularly giving a fuck about being overly polite and excusing himself in front of a random stranger, and definitely not in front of people he dislikes. He will gentleman the fuck up in heartbeat around most women and girls, though. He can be a lot more chivalrous than people realise.

💙Steve💙

More so than excusing himself, he will outright apologise. Depending on the situation, though, in order to avoid more attention, he just won’t mention it at all. Fake it 'til you make it, right? He's totally not embarrassed, not at all, nope.

Are they able to stifle or control their sneezes?

🖤Eddie🖤

He is a habitual stifler and he is exceptionally good at it. Only when his allergies or a cold are really kicking his ass, or he’s completely alone and the tickle is strong will he fully let go. (To be fair, his allergies are often kicking his ass, so.) I think he tends towards natural half-stifled sneezes – or when the sneezes are let out, they’re certainly not screamed. When they are loud and open, you know his nose has been thoroughly tickled.

He can hold back sneezes pretty well, at least if he’s able to sneak off somewhere to relieve the pressure every now and then. A lifetime of year round allergies has trained him well.

💙Steve💙

Steve’s 'stifles' are louder than most people’s sneezes anyway, and they tend to hurt, so he doesn’t really bother. He *wishes* he could stifle properly, but it is simply not in the cards for him.

He’s also terrible at holding back. If he needs to sneeze, his body is making him sneeze, doesn’t matter what he’s doing. He finds it exasperating, and the only thing that makes him feel better about it is how much Eddie is aroused by his total lack of control.

Do their sneezes change if they’re sick vs allergies vs random tickle?

🖤Eddie🖤

His natural/random sneezes are incredibly soft and airy. They tend to come in multiples like all his other sneezes, but not as many – maybe triples? When he has allergies, his sneezes are much more vocally desperate and tend to be quite wet – ultimately, he can makes quite a mess also. It’s just unavoidable, becoming that drippy with such a persistent tickle in his poor nose. His cold sneezes are pretty violent, but not too different from his allergy sneezes other than they tend to get messier much faster.

💙Steve💙

All of his sneezes are big, but his cold sneezes are messy from the get go. He goes through an absurd amount of tissues and handkerchiefs. They also tend to sound a lot gruffer and more nasal, simply because he gets so, so stuffy. He gets so blocked up on occasion that his sinuses audibly squeak in addition to the already loud, messy sneeze, so that fucking sucks for him!

Are they courteous sick people or clueless patient zeros lol?

🖤Eddie🖤

He is as courteous as can be. He’ll try and wash his hands as often as possible, he’ll cover his sneezes, he’ll (for the most part) try to keep himself away from other people. He really hates the idea of being perceived as gross; most of his boisterous persona is a kind of shield to control the way other people feel about him. If he’s being loud and performative, he’s the one in control of making people feel that he’s crazy. If he’s got a cold and can’t stop sneezing and sniffling and coughing, he is very much not in control. He’ll happily ditch school or work, if possible, to avoid becoming a spectacle in this very not-in-his-control way, and will do the same with particularly bad allergy days.

He will also, for the record, ride out the rest of his illness by jerking himself off in the comfort of his own home. If the sneezes keep on coming, so does he <3

💙Steve💙

This poor guy tries his best, but if Steve has a cold, and it’s tickling his nose, he is best avoided until well. He will absolutely be a patient zero, even if he doesn’t mean to be. It can take him a good few sneezes before he even clocks onto the fact that he's getting sick. So many factors are against him – he’s terrible at covering, his sneezes are huge, his sneezes spray a lot and make a great deal of mess…nobody is safe. Remember that he also tends to catch his sneezes in his hands, which he can't always immediately wash, especially in the middle of a work shift. He’s a walking, extremely apologetic germ factory who ought to stay in bed.

Other headcanons:

Eddie keeps pepper in his room canonically; he totally snorts this for a little rush, and thoroughly enjoys the sneezes. If he's bored in his room he'll induce for fun, which often leads to masturbation

Eddie is a dramatic exhibitionist, and has a lot of fantasies involving humiliation and being degraded for his frequent sneezes. He would eventually explore these with Steve

Steve used to induce in private growing up – until he figured out that this was a sexual *thing* as a teenager, and ever since he stopped. Inducing for Eddie, or being induced by him, is an incredible rush because it feels so thoroughly taboo but also quite healing in terms of internalised shame

During fetish play, Eddie will take the lead more often than not, at least in the earlier stages of their relationship. He fucking loves when Steve takes control, though; as their relationship blossoms he’s delighted to see Steve’s confidence grow. Steve isn’t hung up on sex in general, not even remotely, but like I mentioned above, it takes a little time to really embrace this fetish and assert what he wants without external prompting

Eddie will purposely hold back and walk to whatever room Steve is in to sneeze openly in front of him. Steve would do this if he could, but Eddie’s gonna hear his sneeze no matter what – sometimes even over whatever metal record he’s blasting

Eddie would absolutely invest in a super decent camcorder for ‘creative purposes’ like music – but he would totally also film himself sneezing for Steve on it. Steve would eventually do the same for him, and they would have their own little collection of tapes

I think Robin would eventually figure out the fetish and absolutely rib them about it – she’d tease Eddie a lot more because Steve would simply combust and die

Neither are especially comfortable with the idea of disclosing the fetish to other people - when Robin figures it out, they beg her to keep it secret. It's their private, special and personal joy.

Both are bisexual and both came to terms with their bisexuality because of each other

Steve feels initially insecure about his ability to talk dirty about sneezing purely because he feels like his vocabulary isn't expansive enough or he isn't creative enough, especially when Eddie just starts oozing pure filth at the drop of a hat. He gets over this suuuper quickly when it becomes apparent that it makes hardly any difference to Eddie - Steve saying "Gonna sneeze" is more than enough eroticism for him. Steve could sniffle in his ear and he'd be getting hard

That's about all I can think of for now! I hope this continues to fuel the brain rot, anon! 🥰

#kind of amazing to think that somebody could get brain rot over my super self-indulgent fanfic series tbh <3 #thanks to anyone who has ever said anything kind over tags/messages/DMs 💕#it makes it so much more fun to share!#s/tranger t/hings

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serpula-lacrymansss · 6 months ago

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Nice night tonight.

Cold night- the best kind.

I know it's not really a popular opinion, but I've always preferred colder climates to warmer ones. In hot weather, the heat feels inescapable, pushing in from all sides. I hate feeling sweaty, being damp all the time is the absolute worst. It feels like rotting.

In hot and damp climates, a body can decompose to the same level in a couple of hours that it takes a cold body several weeks to.

It's been cold, but also wet, though, so I'm not sure.

Of course there's other factors, in the woods scavenger animals would get to you before you had the chance to rot. But in somewhere like the desert you could be mummified totally.

What's really interesting is what happens to the body in different chemical environments, though.

Sometimes, when a body is left in an alkaline environment, it forms a soft, grey, greasy substance all over the skin. They called it adipocere, from the Latin 'adeps' (fat) and 'cere' (wax).

Adipocere forms through a process called saponification and tends to develop when body fat is exposed to anaerobic bacteria in a warm, damp, alkaline environment, either in soil or water. This process is also sometimes called soap-ification, and it will stop the decay process in its tracks by encasing the body in this waxy material, turning it into a 'soap mummy.'

Pictures under the cut

The two most famous 'soap mummies' are the 'soap man' and 'soap lady,' who are now housed in the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History and the Mütter Museum respectively.

The soap man, Wilhelm von Ellenbogen, who died of yellow fever in 1792 aged 63.

Born in Philadelphia and was buried there around 1800. The body was discovered in 1875 during the digging of a train depot foundation.

The woman, who's surname was also Ellenbogen, but whose first name is unknown, died in Philadelphia, died also of yellow fever in 1792, aged 25-35

She was buried alongside the soap man, so she was also dug up in 1875.

Makes you think.

#morbid #night photography #moon #moon photography #night walk #mortician #tw death #fun facts #not fun facts #bog body #human remains #tw #for sure #lawrence oleander #boyfriend to death 2 #rp #curiosity

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hushpuppy5-blog · 2 years ago

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Periods? A Bloody Waste of Time 🩸

I'm entirely convinced at this point that anything that they tell us (women) is normal is actually bad for us. While pregnancy from male insemination can be avoided, periods are a different matter. I am certain that they are not meant to be painful at all, nor are we meant to bleed so heavily. If a period is (as some claim) truly the removal of toxins and other fluids, are we not going to analyze what the heck is intoxicating us to begin with?

dailymotion

I saw this documentary a while ago called "Red Moon: Menstruation, Culture, and the Politics of Gender" were several women were discussing the stigmatization of periods. I don't remember which part it was exactly, but they were mentioning how painful periods were an energy thing. For some women, especially those who have suffered from abuse in their past, something may energetically be going on with each monthly release. I think it even goes beyond that.

This world's version of normal seems to be in praise of degeneracy at every corner of life. Pregnancy is normal, yet many women die from it or leave with life long scars (physically and emotionally). Intercourse (which seems to skirt itself alongside pure violence) is normal, yet many women leave with disease or some form of mental disorder. Periods are normal, but many women suffer monthly from it to the point where they can become immobile for a day or two. It seems that just as man has intoxicated nature, he has intoxicated the women as well. Expertly so. Now women have convinced themselves and others that pain and suffering is normal. I found this document online discussing some doctors who observed the difference between the western women and who they called "primitive" women. The western women were described as having highly acidic bodies, whilst the other group of women had alkaline bodies.

During the study, the women who consumed more animal products were more susceptible to bleeding heavier and for a longer period during their menstrual. With the alkaline women who consumed more plant based foods, the menstruation almost ceased to exist.

Modern doctors will claim that the absence of a period is signs of a terrible condition. They'll even suggest that an eating disorder it at play. It's interesting they'll say that losing your periods is unnatural, but popping a pill full of foreign chemicals to "regulate" it is totally not cause for future concerns. Speaking of eating disorders—from a western perspective—arguably many people already have eating disorders. We eat until our bellies our stretched beyond normal, and we consume foods that are lifeless and will end up rotting in our stomachs. I do believe that an aspect of periods is normal, given their spiritual nature. In ancient times, they hinted at a connection between the cycles of the moon. This was when women could be most in tune with their bodies and souls, perhaps harnessing spirtual powers that may have been dulled any other time. Now, women are lying in bed curdling in pain during that time of the month. Not much can be done productively. Of course, not all women have this problem, but plenty do.

This is just some speculation though. For me personally, omitting meat and other animal products from my diet has changed the way I think. I'm only four months in though, and my decision to do this was spontaneous and came about due to some health concerns for mine. I have had asthma and eczema for most of my life. These are two inflammatory conditions that have left me breathless and peeling off my own skin to a gross degree. Since reducing my consumption of eggs and milk and taking out meat completely, I've been breathing better and I've had little to no rashes. As a shift to something completely plant based, I'm curious as to how it will further effect me physically alongside my future menstrual cycles as well. Again, this is just the case for myself and could effect others differently. I just know that society doesn't care for case by case conditions and wants EVERYBODY to do the exact same thing healthwise, regardless of how it effect them personally. They've been choosing death for us for centuries. Now, when some of us choose life, they want to call it dangerous pseudoscience. Spare me. Women need to get to know their own bodies on a personal level. Many modern doctors aren't healers. They're band-aid solutions. This includes female doctors, since they are getting paid too. We need to be in charge of our own health and start educating ourselves.

Periods were once considered the first curse on women. Perhaps they still are. They certainly aren't desired. This isn't to take the Christian perspective of "woman bad", but there are hidden truths within these ancient books that must be analyzed. In the case of Eve, she suffered two curses from God in Genesis 3:16:

"I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children."

And

"Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you."

There's no explicit mention of periods here, but pregnancy and periods go hand in hand on the pain spectrum it seems. The second quote is also intriguing. This desire for her husband is linked to pain as well as "inequality". I believe that her desire for Adam makes them far more equal than we realize. She suffers with him in his degeneracy now, although on a different level. It's also notable that her suffering is more severe and constant. Would she have this pain if she loved "God" more than Adam? Or if she loved herself more than Adam?

There are so many questions, many left unanswered. Regardless, there can be a more optimistic lens to this. Like many curses, perhaps this one can be broken.

#periods #curses #hilton hotema #food #vegetarian #meat #living foods #moon cycle #alkalineliving #health #spirituality #death #Eve #blood

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nichenarratives · 1 year ago

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Hurricane Heller 9

A Niche Narratives Fanficiton

last | first | next

[Trigger warning for strong references to violence, bloody descriptions and forceful imprisonment of an expendable OC]

9. Butcher for Hire

Once a primary producer of domestic chemical cleaners, the now defunct Solvay Process Company factory stands grimy on the outskirts of the city, towering over its surroundings and casting bleak shadows reminiscent of pollution it once spilled into the nearby river. Now it looms over Mordecai as he exits the vehicle, an isolated island of concrete amongst otherwise wild, natural ecosystems.

Mordecai gazes up at the abandoned building with dread in his veins, sharp eyes slit to study this new environment, his possible last destination. He swallows and draws his tail to the back of his legs, only to startle and spin back toward the car when the door slams closed behind him. The siamese smirks and offers a cursory wave before the engine revs.

Tires squeal and spin, kicking up gravel, then it's silent once more. Mordecai can feel his heart beating as he turns back to the factory, a rapid samba thrumming in his throat before it echoes in his ears. An overwhelming urge to go home hits then; an idiotic notion he could just crawl into bed, pretend this never happened and return to the tracks in the morning, somehow resetting the day's events and erasing them from history.

But of course, he can't go home. Even if he knew which way to walk, even if he could feasibly walk that far. There is no hard reset, either; in doing his job, 'Elijah Katz' made himself too valuable. Influential undesirables have taken notice and now he's on a very different path, one that might end today if he can't live up to unspoken expectations.

Leveling his gaze forward, he spots an open door, a fire exit left innocuously ajar on an abandoned building miles out of the city. It's an invitation, one the newly christened Isaiah Fitzgerald knows he cannot refuse. He takes a deep breath - a shakier one than he'll ever admit - and clutching onto the strap of his Father's satchel for support, finally steps inside.

Unsurprisingly, it's dark in the abandoned factory. Vaulted ceilings and high, industrial windows do little to light the floor level walkway he enters. Remnant scents of chemicals still permeate the air, tainting each new breath with a bad taste. Mordecai scrunches his nose and tries to keep his breaths shallow, not wishing to draw unknown substances that could be toxic into his lungs.

A steady drip-drip accompanies the click of his loafers over the cracked tile floor, echoing off the empty walls. Desks left overturned, papers abandoned to rot and unidentifiable wet patches are all carefully stepped around as he heads deep into the factory's carcass until, anxiety overriding an innate urge to keep a low profile, he calls out in an embarrassingly cracked voice. "Hello…?"

The response is a muffled yell from his right. Mordecai turns on the spot, though he doesn't approach immediately, taking a moment to extract and open his pocket knife. Leaving his letter opener tucked into a boot for emergencies, he finally takes slow, calculating steps towards the sound, eyes wide to saturate his vision and adjust to the low light.

Just around a corner, he finds the source; illuminated by a rare high window that shines directly onto the tiled floor, he finds a feline tied to a chair. Large black ears come forward as he approaches, eyes darting around the area for danger, the uncertainty of the whole arrangement raising his hackles and heightening his senses even as the restrained man gets louder and more desperate on his approach.

"There's the man of the hour," a slow, almost drawling tone declares from the left. Mordecai pivots, turning his knife on it in an instant, coming within inches of slicing another man's flesh. Another new face - a large, white feline with amberish eyes and black stripes around his muzzle that aren't echoed elsewhere on his pelt - smiles slyly. "Savage's new favourite Pussyfoot. What was it? Katz? Ritz? Fitz?"

With both old and new aliases mentioned, plus another he assumes was a possibility the siamese dug up investigating the non-existent Katz, this man must be associated with the company. A quick glance shows another time pin identical to the others and slowly, the tuxedo lowers the pocket knife to his side, not yet content to put it away. "Fitzgerald."

"Fitz," the man responds, apparently pleased with himself in creating a nickname, as he chuckles softly and places an arm around the tuxedo's shoulders. Mordecai tenses, but it doesn't stop this man pulling him into his own shoulder for an approving half-embrace, forcing close proximity. "Good, good. I hoped it wouldn't go sour in the car. I've heard things about you. Great things. Hopeful things. But enough of that!"

He lets go of the tuxedo. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Get started with what, precisely?" Mordecai asks warily, his gaze briefly tracking to the now silently shaking man tied to a chair. A sharp scent of ammonia fills the air, likely from the residual gasses still present in the factory, but Mordecai still scowls at it, causing the prisoner to cower before the tuxedo turns his gaze back on the white cat. "Who are you? Who is he? Why am I even here?"

"You ask a lot of questions," the larger feline responds, then digs in his pockets. Mordecai freezes, anticipating a gun or a blade to be leveled in his direction, demanding something of him. His knife feels heavy as attempting to defend himself crosses his mind, until the white cat only pulls out two tools; pliers and a hammer. He offers them to the monochrome cat without pause, nodding to the prisoner. "Save it for him."

Mordecai sags and tucks his pocket knife away as he looks at the other feline. Body tied to the backrest and forearms secured to arm rests with thick rope, hope has abandoned the captive's eyes entirely. Large orange ears flatten to his head and whimpers shake free of a mouth gag as torture implements are offered to not a saviour, but another enemy.

Emerald eyes fall back to the tools, ones he'd used a dozen times to make small repairs to his mother's home, tools that never felt dangerous until now. Mordecai once again gets an urge to run, this time to his Rabbi. He burns to admit to his sins and take whatever retribution the wise man feels fit, if only to avoid this exact happenstance entirely, even though he knows he can't, that his life will end as soon as he tries to leave, the young Jew wishes he could.

Instead he stays rooted to the spot, then turns his gaze to the man offering him the implements, a last chance to avoid taking this irrevocable step down the awful road he's been on for five years. "I'm a bookkeeper, not a…" His vocabulary fails not because he doesn't have the words, but because saying them makes the situation feel too real. Tormentor. Torturer. Sadist.

"You were a bookie," the white feline corrects. His fur so out of place on such a vindictive man, a halo of white around his face sharply contrasting the dark soul he must house. He continues to offer the tools with a flat expression, serious and unyielding. "Now, you're whatever Savage wants you to be. Today, that's his interrogator."

That's the end of it; there's no arguing, no compromise, just orders. Almost too carefully, Mordecai pulls the satchel over his head and drops it to the floor, too distracted by his boss' new expectations to concern himself with how messy that is, and takes a few steps towards his accomplice.

Mordecai feels dazed, actively struggling with the reality of the situation as he reaches for the implements with shaking hands. Every teaching in his childhood should prevent him from taking and using them as Savage intends, but it isn't so easy to refuse when it's not just his soul on the line; all he can think about is his baby sister's coughs as she died, how it broke his mother, what it would do to her if another of his sister's passed… all far heavier than his own eternity.

He hesitates a second, then two, before stiffly taking them.

"Good," the white cat comments, lowering his hands. While he seems content to approach their prisoner, Mordecai can only stare down at the tools. Despite the moral weight they represent, they aren't as heavy as the tom expected, fitting easily into his palms as he grasps them. It's as he closes his hands around the handles the orange cat is freed of his gag. "Ready to sing like the canary you are, Micheal?"

"Please, I don't know nothin', Mister Gabriel! It was only-"

The gag is shoved roughly back into the lad's mouth, pleas for mercy swiftly silenced. "Guess not," the white feline says as he turns back to Mordecai, who has only just glanced up from the hammer and pliers, barely even contemplated their intended use before he's encouraged closer with the curl of a finger. "Micheal here is a little flea, feeding off information from a rat and taking it to the feds. You're going to get me the name of the rat, Fitz. By whatever means necessary."

His chest suddenly tight, Mordecai turns his gaze to the lad in the chair, who whimpers and quivers with fear, shaking his head no. Tears pool in terrified eyes, orange ears lay flat to his skull and feet curl against the chair legs, trying to appear small. Nausea and guilt swim in the tuxedo's gut for a moment, but he squashes it down again, forcing any sentiments away.

Backing out is impossible. It would end his life and perhaps, also his family's. He needs that information.

Mordecai inhales sharply, forces them deep down and nods to Gabriel, flexing his palm on the pliers. The teeth part and gnash together threateningly in thin air. "Are you planning to watch?" He asks, honestly curious now he's fully detached the tenants of his morals. He wants to get this over with as fast as possible, which will be easier without interference. "Or can I have some privacy?"

With a chuckle, Gabriel raises his palms between them. "If you want it private for your first rodeo, I won't stop you," he says with far too much enthusiasm for Mordecai's liking, then pulls a cigarette out from behind his ear. "I've needed a smoke since you walked in anyway. Just try not to kill him before he squeals, would you? I'll wait for you outside."

The tuxedo lets him leave, then waits even longer to be sure the pale feline is gone, only then does he turn back to the cowering prisoner. Micheal's whimpers grow louder as he approaches, the orange cat flinching away from his hand until it removes the gag, only to shiver when his ensuing yell is smothered by the same cloth held over quivering lips.

Terrified eyes meet steady greens as Mordecai crouches to his level, hand firm on the fabric over his sniffling face, gaze piercing and tone low. "I'm sure you've realised you're going to die,* he begins honestly, then presses harder as the sniffs become yowling wails. He doesn't want to hear it, in case it breaks his resolve, a growl infecting his tone. "Listen. This is an opportunity for you to make that inevitable demise less painful. Tell me who's feeding you information and I'll ensure a swift, painless death. That's all you have to do."

With a last pointed look, Mordecai releases the man's mouth and waits, an elbow resting on his thigh and fabric gag hung precariously from two claws, not wishing to touch more of it than necessary now it's been inside the lad's mouth. For the smallest of moments, Micheal looks like he'll comply, thick, quivering lips parted to speak before he starts to beg. "Please! I don't-!"

Mordecai shoves the gag back into his mouth almost too aggressively and stands, turning his back on the man to run his hand through his hair and desperately think. Tools left at the whimpering man's feet, Mordecai tilts his head back and he clutches at his scalp with both hands, closing his eyes to ask - to beg - Hashem one last time for His guidance.

Give me another way I can protect my family, a way my soul remains intact, anything, and I will take it without question.

Silence permeates the air around him, deafening and empty at once, destroying what remains of his faith as he's forced to face the reality that there is either no Hashem, or nothing that can be done to redeem his tainted soul. Emerald eyes open and stare blankly at the ceiling, faith leaching from his body, finally leaving Mordecai Heller an emotionally decrepit shell.

He turns back to Micheal with a cold glare, his ears rotated back and brows knit together. This man is his fall from grace, his severance from faith, one if many he's sure to have to handle once today is complete. For the first time in Mordecai's life, he feels hatred for this whimpering, pathetic man who forces his hand, and it shows in the way he stands and approaches his prey.

The orange cat sinks as far into his seat as his restraints will allow, yelling for help through his gag as retrieving the tuxedo tom retrieves his tools and stalks the last few feet, advancing in silent determination. If I must spill others' blood to safeguard those I care for, if I must be forsaken by God for protecting my family, then I spill it without remorse.

There's no enjoyment; the screams are deafening, the blood is repulsive, the snot messy, but thirty minutes later he has the requested information. Mordecai leaves without offering any words of closure or comfort, aware on some level he's too calm as he retrieves his satchel. His slow steps echo through the silent factory, a rhythmic click of the small heel his only companion until he slips outside.

Hearing the door creak, Gabriel turns to face the tuxedo, his expression dark. "You killed him, then?"

"He's fine. I'm efficient, not careless," Mordecai rebukes and without explanation, holds out a fisted handkerchief bundle to his co-conspirator. A little bemused, Gabriel accepts it, whereupon the tuxedo straightens his suit jacket, unaware of the speck of blood on his collar that perfectly matches his tie. "One of your bookkeepers is skimming funds and paying triggermen for information. Mr Herman Schmitt. He was just stupid enough to share it with Micheal, as well."

"Schmitt," Gabriel growls openly, then slaps the tuxedo tom heartily on the back. "Good job, Fitz. A roaring success, I'd say. Here-" He tucks a thick wad of money into Mordecai's jacket, patting it with a palm afterwards to make a point of it. "Here's compensation for a job well done, plus a little extra to call a cab from the phonebox a half mile down the road. I think you'll find it more generous than your other wage."

He then tries to return the handkerchief, but Mordecai takes a step back with a grimace, pushing his hand away with an index finger. "That's yours," he states, eyeing what used to be his pocket square with open contempt. "Call it a souvenir. I assume you don't not want evidence left behind, after all. If that is all, I'm going home. I need a shower."

With that said, Mordecai turns on his heel and walks briskly away, not looking back. The sooner he gets back home, the sooner he can strip off his work persona and do something to tforget what he did today. A few of his plants need a trim, and it's been a while since he buried his nose in a book in solitude. He needs to decompress before he gets so lost in Isaiah Fitzgerald, he forgets who Mordecai Heller is.

"Enjoy that raise! I'll be in touch with another job soon!" His new supervisor calls after him, then chuckles and turns back to the factory. Before he heads inside however, Gabriel can't help but open the handkerchief, then whistles, unexpectedly impressed with his gall. "You're not as squeamish as you look, are you, Fitz? Isn't that interesting."

Three freshly extracted claws rest in a white handkerchief, glistening in the morning sun, clumps of raw tissue yanked from their internal flesh housings on each root slowly dyeing the crimson

----

I know I don't usually do author's notes, but I wanted to take a moment to thank everyone that shares/ reads this post on both AO3 and here, and.especially those who leave feedback on the chapters. The positive reception and hype has made it so much fun to expand on this story and get the chapters out fast - hopefully well written too!

So thank you, and I hope you've enjoyed Mordecai's downfall. It's only going to get worse from here.

#mordecai heller #lackadaisy #fanfiction #lackadaisy mordecai #lackadaisy cats #fanfic #hurricane heller #no beta we die like atlas may #tracy j butler #niche narratives #hurricane heller chapter 9

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