vesinhhalinhhcm

[funkygroovejam]

I was going to do this tomorrow, as a fun, before-concert, heart session, but the machine was right there, and I couldn't resist. The mic was on my mitral, and the probe shoved beneath my xiphoid. For all those who enjoy seeing the heart pumping, I sure do hope you enjoy watching mine. My heart got louder as I went on probing. I guess I was enjoying the sight. The steth didn't move the whole time, so my heart sure did pump harder. He was pumping harder, but could you actually see my heart pumping and squeezing harder? THAT would be hot. It always sucks driving an hour or more to a concert in the dark, especially when it's raining. Thankfully, it won't be raining, and thankfully there will be no Boston traffic. C'mon concert....

[ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously]

You can't tell me she wasn't the cool babysitter for at least some time

[johnslittlespoon]

Tough And Sweet (Like You And Me)

Ch. 1/? – 'Sweet Taste Of Kerosene'

[WC: 9K | Gale Cleven/John Egan, College AU, The Bikeriders AU, Age Gap, Emotional Slowburn, But Fast Smut, Set in 2005ish]

College student John Egan ends up in an old pub on the other side of his small town, where he has a chance encounter with biker and mechanic Gale Cleven. Unconventional circumstances be damned, John is a lovesick fool.

[AO3 LINK]

[sweeetcheeese]

“You could’ve died the first time, I most certainly won’t take that chance twice!” Hiccup’s tone was stern, yet he still couldn’t quite help the tilt of his lips. Jack’s excited-puppy look was just too sweet to really reprimand.

Jack could only laugh, the joyful smile remaining on his adrenaline-flushed face.  “But I didn’t die, it’s just a little jump!” Jack grinned teasingly, arching a brow at Hiccup as he leaned in close to him as if to dare him.  “Don’t tell me you’re too chicken!” He giggled, blue eyes bright as he looked into Hiccup’s, their faces mere inches apart. 

Hiccup swallowed thickly as he looked down to Jack, taking in the wild look in his gorgeous blue eyes, the healthy flush of his cheeks, and his ruffled white hair, moving slightly in the breeze. His eyes darted to Jack’s pink lips for just a moment, before he caught himself, pulling back a little and narrowing his eyes at the teasing.

From our Lost in the Woods AU with my dearest @santathegrey (Jack took Hiccup’s dirt bike over a ledge and gave Hiccup a damn heart attack)

[amandamadeathing]

It's a scientific fact that racing needs to be paired with Motley Crüe's "Kickstart My Heart," thus I made this AMV edit to Tech riot racing in "Faster." Enjoy!

Is anyone else ever secretly upset the next episode after "Faster" is not titled "More Intense" or is it just me?

[hyunsuksswife]

[jesse-pinko]

Lowkey depressing how many Breaking Bad aus I see that are just like “what if this character -hear me out- was nice to Jesse 😱😭” bc so few characters are actually nice to Jesse in canon and he was on the whole treated so inhumanly that we as an audience are almost as starved as he was to see him forge a tangible human connection that isn’t cut tragically short

[scarabies-real]

Don’t you just love the serotonin boost you get from watching the life leave a man’s eyes?

The McDonald’s employee handing him Grian’s McFlurry order:

[solrin]

I think I'm sick (romantic, swooning)

[deathoftheparty83]

[nancyheart11]

i know no one cares but I'm pretty proud of myself for how far I've gotten in Hades this far!

I've finished the main story

Have bonds with almost half the people you can

Have romanced Dusa and Megera (Thanatos only seems to show up in runs where I had bad rng for weapons stuff :/)

Have 35 of the achievements

And generally only fail to beat Hades if I fight Charon in Tarturus before the build of the run emerges

[funkygroovejam]

Two scenes from The Jane Austen Book Club. I sooooooo love seeing a neck pulse like hers. I am referring to the double beat, which is SOOOOO strong--OMG! The next scene is sickly hot because, well, need I explain?

[chaosduckies]

Would you rather be four inches tall, or 50 feet tall? And why?

Oooo easy answer

Four inches tall obviously. Mostly because I’m already short in real life, but also because like, could you imagine a four inch tall gremlin just throwing herself at dangerous situations?

Oh you put me on top of a counter? Im just gonna try and climb back down on my own without any sort of rope or safety equipment. I LIVE for the adrenaline rush.

I guess I would also love for someone to hug me close or help me stay asleep by holding me or something since I have really bad insomnia. I’m just one of those people who likes being hugged. I would pretty much be like a therapist tiny as well. You need something to hold? I got you. (Or you got me :D)

Just so you know, if I’m four inches tall and you’re the person I’m hanging out with, expect to have some heart attacks and good times :D

Thank you for the ask anon!

[deputy-morgan-malone]

OC Aesthetics for the Entities (Magnus Archives)

I'm not sure how much new Spooky Month content I'll be doing this year, I'm pretty tapped out at the moment, but I have had this for a while (created by @sagamemes) and it's pretty spooky, so I figured I'd do it for the start of the spooky season \o/

Tagging @inafieldofdaisies, @turbo-virgins, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @direwombat, @adelaidedrubman, @florbelles, @cassietrn, @unholymilf, @strafethesesinners, @paganminiskirt, @henbased, @deputyash, @roofgeese, @fourlittleseedlings, @josephslittledeputy, @jillvalentinesday, @corvosattano and @voidika to do it too - ONLY if you want to <3

aesthetics for the entities.      bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here.  this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

Deputy Morgan Malone (FC5 OC)

i.  THE BURIED.          weighted blankets.   drowning.   the comfort of a loved one’s weight. soil & sand piling on top of you. hugging so hard it hurts a little. cramped hiding spots.   letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.   walls pressing in on you. not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.   dragging the last second before you have to inhale.   lonely subways.   feeling like one with the earth.   a layer of dirt on you.   looking for something below.  cardboard boxes & tiny pillow forts.   hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface. entering your final resting place before it kills you.   a storm drowning you out.  dust & sand speaking to you.

ii.  THE CORRUPTION.          insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life. an illness in a community. a rag that dirties more than it cleans.   an untreated wound.  containment.   breaching containment.   unbreathable air.   fungi.   one with that you love.   one with what loves you.   a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings & legs.  honeycomb patterns.   an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed. blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.   trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever. food that’s gone off.   pandora’s box.   death behind a glass.

iii.  THE DARK. shadows. lights that turn off by themselves.   the feel of cold marble.   a beaked creature in the night. the difference between seeing darkness & seeing nothing. touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white,  clouded eyes. months without going outside during sunlight. pouring dark. unscrewing lightbulbs. black matter. light sensitivity. a starless night.  time before light was created.   a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.   staying unperceivable.   winter months in the north.   an empty church.

iv.  THE DESOLATION. senseless pain.  warmth of faith. wax where skin should be.   a blazing fire.   heat without a source.   the third or fourth tragedy in the family. losing everything you’ve ever held dear. so much to live for,  gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.   touch that scars. coffee cup that never goes cold. scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.   plastic explosives. burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one. disfigurement. kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat. a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

v.  THE FLESH. body horror.   factories.   a hunger for something more filling. never quite happy with how you look. the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter. a very good meal. the liquid of a perfect steak. fighting your worst survival instincts. a twisted bone.   long nights working out.   more than one heart.   appearance that shapes like clay.   a bag of bones.   bone broth in a pot.   knowing to fear pigs.   the butcher’s shop.   plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body. a hunger in the gaze laid upon you. unwitting cannibalism. forgetting what you used to look like. being admired for your appearance & appearance only.  teeth marks on skin. scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.   cooking in scarcity. fenced in with one way to go.

vi.  THE END.          the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.   a skeletal hand.   the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.   existential pain.   ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul & spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die. closing your eyes for the last time. the pleas of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know & being unable to prevent it.   a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.   an act of desperation. someone’s life for yours. an eternity spent alive. the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.   causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone. meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii.  THE EYE.          googling something you shouldn’t have. eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.   witness reports.   hidden libraries.   eyes of different colors.   feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.   a tragedy you can’t look away from.   endangering yourself for knowledge.   truth.   analog records.   a symbol of an eye.   a watch tower.   compulsion to document.   turning on recording devices without thinking about it.   saving the evidence before the person. extracting information.   truth or dare,  without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge. books that speak to you.   coordinated shelves.   cataloguing systems.   voyeurism.   police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

viii.  THE HUNT.          sharp canines.   sore calves after a run.   the scent of blood.   an adventure for the journey’s sake.   the adrenaline right before the kill.   a whistle’s echo.   the woods.   the doe eyes of a prey animal.  your own breath in the air.  sharpened claws.   being tracked.   fear of someone knowing your every movement.   hunting down monsters.   hide & seek.   running away only to end up where you started.   staying alive purely because the enemy enjoys seeing you run.   a set of footsteps behind you.   blood dripping from bare hands.   barks & growls.   focused eyes.   a victim going limp under your hands.   a mouth full of fresh blood.   catching the scent of something monstrous.   perfecting your craft.   peering into the dark & running after it.

ix.  THE LONELY.          an apartment too small for a double bed.   completely vacant streets.   waking up to see everyone gone.  fog.  point nemo.  a house too big to hear your family members in.  alone in a faceless crowd.  a mask with nothing behind it.  separated cubicles.  a deafening silence where joy should be.  a blinding spotlight.  the least missed in your friend group.  streets without lights in the windows.  isolation.  not truly knowing your friends.   your friends not truly knowing you.  need for silence.  fear of crowds.  staring into space knowing nothing is looking back at you.  a ship alone at sea.  depression.  knowing your friends are better off without you.  talking to someone only to realise they’re gone.  a family too large to notice you there.  safety in being alone.

x.  THE SLAUGHTER          a game of tag.   senseless violence.   a true crime hobby.   improvised weapons.   blinding rage.   intent to kill.   a horrific day in a quiet community.   a medal of bravery.  holding on to what validates your anger.   history books that spare no details.   an injury you want revenge for.   war.   counting kills.   songs of soldiers.   a knifeblock on the counter.   a pool of blood.   shellshock.   unspeakable horrors.   anger pushing you forward.   unimaginable pain.   not seeing who will hurt you but knowing the pain is coming.   a fully human monster.   an authority sending its lessers to their deaths.   kill or be killed.   unedited wartime memoirs.   a weapons collection.   not knowing the names of who you kill.   too many to remember.   loss of hope.   there’s no heroes in war.

xi.  THE SPIRAL          sleep deprivation.   corridors you can get lost in.   maze puzzles that loop back on themselves.   losing possessions.   losing people.   losing your sanity.   corkscew curls.   rows of funhouse mirrors.   optical illusions.   a separate reality.   walking through the wrong door.   delusions.   not knowing what your hands are doing.   blank spaces in documents.   hallucinations.   wrong proportions.   a nameless thing.   a place that has never existed.   doubting your own mind.   blind faith.   losing track of names,  labels,  categories.   distorted sound.   an imperfection in a glass that twists the view.   loss of time.   a garish colour.   doors that open to nowhere.   lies.   an unnatural laugh.   jokes & tricks.   illusions.   a doorway.   a sculptor with a wild imagination.   limbs in impossible angles.   doing what’s fun,  not what’s sensible.   fractals you can get lost in.

xii.  THE STRANGER          wax figures.   a close approximation of a human face.   a borrowed appearance.   a strange smell.   glass eyes.   furs & pelts.   a dance.   a song of a choir.   the uncanny valley.   stitching yourself together.   the colours of a circus.   a puppet with no strings.   mannequins.   glitter & sequin.   a stranger you’ve always known.   someone strange in the place of someone you knew.   stolen identities.   stolen skins.   a machine imitating humanity.   the anonymity of a service worker.   hiding in plain sight.   uncomfortable to look at.   a faked accent.   concealing.   forgetting who you are.   forgetting who others are.   a replacement no one notices.   images that look posed.   the only one seeing the false face of someone.

xiii.  THE VAST.          open spaces.   carnival rides going up & down.   fear of heights.   endless infinity around you.   your insignificance in an universe.   stomach turning at a drop.   fear of not the crash down but the moment you slip.   the sway of a cable car.   an adventure holiday.   losing track of where the surface is.   miles & miles of nothing around you.   staring at the sky & feeling like you may fall into it.   loss of control.   a fall that doesn’t end in death.   glass floor to the view below.   terminal velocity.   the sound of wind in your ears.   a reach over the railing.   a jump from the top of the building.   falling into nothing.   feeling your feet let go of the ground.   a leap of faith.   motion sickness.

xiv.  THE WEB.          undecipherable code.   a puppeteer holding the strings.   power over the weak—willed.    strings of fate.   manipulation.   an arranged accident.   a hundred minions doing your bidding.   cobwebs.   spiders.   a laid trap.   never voicing discomfort.   outwitting a cheater.   doing things without realising it.   red string across a corkboard.   finding something lost where you were sure you checked.   power over the unrealiability of chance.   watching others dance for you.   an entangled death.   a thousand tiny legs & fangs.   shady forum threads.   something important gone missing.   suspiciously disregarded case.   a missing witness.   connections.   the world wide web.   power of victimhood.   gullibility.   no control over your own decisions.   an invisible leash.   mass psychology.   a horror film in the making.   scapegoat.   never remembering to ask for a name.

+  THE EXTINCTION.          the end of an era.   apocalypse movies.   the alarms of warning systems.   a desolate landscape.   end of the world cults.   nihilism.   the last written history.   a changed world.   no survivours.   old prophecies.   a thousand predicted ends.   a new chapter.   an end with no escape.   catastrophes.   a calendar counting down.   breaking point.   overindulgence.

[itsevanffs]

The club is musky, sweaty, humid in a way that makes Harry feel like he can’t breathe, but he moves through it anyway, relying on the lukewarm shitty beer in his plastic cup to keep him grounded. He keeps half an eye on it, the rest of his attention out on the room, looking for a place to sit and cool his head a bit before he goes back out to the dance floor and tries to find a man who can actually fucking /dance/.

It says a lot about a lay if they only move their arms on the dance floor. The last one was a younger guy and the subtlety of it was pretty much all lost on him, too concerned with his own pleasure to really think about the person attached to the hole he’s screwing. It’s fine - Harry won’t make that mistake again. It’d taken a miserable sort of wank after the idiot had collapsed on top of him for him to cum, and even then, far too long for Harry’s liking.

He frowns, pulling his upper lip into a displeased sort of scowl. Maybe he’ll be a bitch, just for tonight, and shack it on with his vibe. At least that thing knows how to please him.

He’s pulled - literally - out of his thoughts by a hand clamping like a vice around his sleeved wrist, attached to a muscled arm attached to a muscled torso revealed by a half undone shirt, the entire thing topped off with a handsome head and trousers too dark to see any outline of a dick in the annoying pink and cyan aesthetic lights.

The eyes turn him off, though; both ringed almost solid blue like the guy’s been beaten up enough in his lifetime to make the colour stick like a tattoo, red-tinged eyes and nostrils from a mixture of drugs Harry doesn’t even want to think about.

“Nice ass,” the man slurs, his grin dopey and revealing straight white teeth, and Harry remembers his ass is on display, covered only by three strips of fabric meeting in the space between his dimples with a metal heart. It’s a shame, because he’s Harry’s type, technically - strong looking, hygienic enough.

Well, save the drugs. Harry can smell them from here.

“Sorry, mate,” Harry drawls over the music, pulling his hand away - or, trying to. The man doesn’t budge an inch, grip tighter than Harry’s own on his cock. “You’re not getting shit unless you pay me. I don’t fuck with drugs.”

“How much?” is the instant reply, grin still in place. The free hand disappears into a pitch-black pocket and comes out with a shiny leather wallet, scaled. Harry doesn’t even want to know. The wallet opens, and the man shoves his thumb between two notes, the shiny one-hundred printed on it flashing in the light. The thumb retracts and moves, pressing down every new note. Counting, Harry realises. The fucker is counting hundred pound notes in front of his face.

“I’m not a fucking whore,” Harry hisses, leaning in close.

“Two thousand,” the man says, meeting Harry’s eyes again, face blank now. “I’ll give you it up front in the car. I’ve got the rest at my place.”

The rest. He’s fucking insane.

Still, that’s two months’ rent in one night and some to spare. Harry’s a trust fund baby but trust funds are limited; he won’t say no to extra cash, provided he’s given it in bills he can actually exchange.

“At least tell me you can actually fuck,” Harry sighs, glancing around them. “And give me it in fifties so I can spend it outside Oxford Street.”

[hyunsuksswife]