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#extradirty

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NASA

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roma★

shark vs the universe
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Show & Tell
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titsay
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

Love Begins
Xuebing Du
Today's Document
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🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
Three Goblin Art
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@eugeniasims
Before my interview with Troy, I sat in on a small acoustic set where we laughed, cried, and talked about poop. Amongst other things, he treated us to his own rendition of Radiohead’s Creep.
au; crushed // of things that make their homes in our skin
"How’d you know?" He asks, the tired heavy in his voice but oh, no, he can’t fall asleep now. Even if his bed is ridiculously comfortable, and practically begging him. Delsin turns on the TV and the sound of it sends goosebumps racing up his arms, something about that static sound is nostalgic and a little scary, the words dad flicker in his mind for a moment but he shoves them away with haste. Genia tells him to scoot, and he scoots, because he wants her comfortable….but she does that thing where she tries to be as small as possible and hangs near the edge of his bed. Delsin frowns. “You know you can scoot back further on the bed, and actually lay down, right? Or relax.”
Delsin slowly sits up and fits gentle fingers against her shoulder, “And are you hungry or anything? I have junk food…but shit can you believe that I can actually cook?” He has this bad habit with taking stabs at himself. Bringing himself a peg lower, because hell, that’s what everyone else did. It made him feel as if he was safe, like he he hurt himself then nobody else could ever hurt him again. Comments stung, yeah, but half the time he barely felt the jabs, barely felt the whispers, the eyes burning holes into his back, the he’s only here because his brother is a cop mutters as he walked down the hall.
Ah well; he dropped from the bed a moment later and fished beneath it, pulling out a rather large box stacked neatly with movies and starting to slowly unpack it, “What do you feel like watching?” He glances up at her from his position, eyes strangely soft and he could argue that he feels a little more vulnerable around Genia, because she’s the only one who’s taken the time to actually talk to him, get to know him, not treat him like a freak, “I have comedy, sci-fi, horror, you name it.”
And that means a lot to him…
She wants to turn and tell him she's fine where she is, wants to recoil from the comfort his company brings but she can't find the heart to. With gentle fingers on her shoulder she eases the tension in her arms and ignores how close his touch is to blue and purple skin, only to scoot herself back and draw her knees to her chest, taking a moment to wriggle her feet free, toes curling under high cut socks as her shoes clunk heavily to the floor. She shakes her head at the offer of food and adjusts her glasses. How close he is makes her breath come in short, but as he slips away she can feel the tightness in her chest dissipate. "Had no idea." She teases softly, gaze flickering over him as the surprisingly neat box appears from beneath her. She lets her legs extend and leans forward on her hands, the inside of her cheek caught between her teeth, and then those eyes lift to her and she forgets that he's asked her something and so she fumbles, at first tearing her eyes from him. She slips off of the bed and kneels on the other side of the box, trying to keep the flustered pink tint at the tips of her ears hidden from view, instead focusing on the seemingly bottomless pit of titles. Careful fingers reach into the contents and pull out a single case, labelled with a title all too familiar; a favorite of hers. "I vote 'Airplane!' -- " She tries to catch the sudden surge of enthusiasm, but only ends up dropping the volume of her voice the slightest bit. She scratches anxiously at her arm, over bruises still festering and obvious and she smiles ever-so-gently, holding the case in her lap, "I mean I -- I could use the humor right now." She covers lamely, but still smiles, maybe a little wider now, a short breath of a laugh slipping out as she straightens her back, "Sorry ---- just. Rough weekend." A sheepish smile holds her lips, now, as she offers the case to him, the static nothing more than a numbing sound in the back of her mind.
au; crushed // of things that make their homes in our skin
"Naaah…I’d be the one getting in trouble.”
And it’s true, painfully true. Because she’s so, dare he say perfect and he’s not. Well, in the school’s eyes at least. He’s nothing more than trouble while she maintains such good grades and keeps their image up. He was shoved in here to try and straighten up and avoid getting in trouble with the law and this and that, and, he didn’t belong here, and he knew it. The teachers made sure he knew it, and the students did too. Delsin felt uneasy here and god dammit, all he wanted to do was go home.
They make it up to his room without incident and he opens the door, holding it open for her, and promptly closing it when she steps inside. It’s silent inside and he breathes a sigh of relief because he didn’t really feel like listening to the taunts and jabs of oh another girl? look at you go or anything dumb and he makes his way to his side of the room, slinging his book bag down near the foot of the bed and groaning. “Make yourself at home,” he says quietly, loud in the silence, “enjoy this before his dumb ass comes back.”
Delsin all but flops across his bed, whining softly at the aches in his back, feeling blindly for the remote, failing terribly at finding it.
Her hackles are raised as they traverse the dormitory, an unease in her shoulders as she shuffles after him, eyes downward as she lifts a finger, pushing thick lenses back up her nose. She stares at the back of Delsin's legs and still, manages the smallest of smiles. Part of this -- this risk taking, the sneaking up to his room -- felt outlandishly criminal and the change is not only welcome, but almost refreshing. She breathes out slowly, partially in relief as the door swings open and reveals his room is empty. Fidgeting fingers forgo the festering marks on her bicep while they tangle into loose dirty blond strands, and tuck them carefully behind her ear. She sets her bag down on his chair before nudging the door shut with her foot, almost wincing as it softly slams. When she turns to her.. friend, sees hims sprawled out, that cautious little smile sets a little more confidently on her features. He's fumbling around for ---- something. Her brow knits together for an instant before she sees the device on the floor, nearly under the bed. She crouches to retrieve it, before putting it directly into his outstretched fingers. "Scoot." It's an affectionate command as she moves to the end of his bed, worming her way onto the edge as she tries her very hardest to occupy as little space as possible. She's.. not exactly comfortable, but she's not one to complain either. She has a small little square of mattress, that's enough in her book.
“No. No nononono, darling, no. No, I’m not gonna kill you. You’re worth so much more to me alive. Nah, I won’t kill you.” He almost adds ‘not yet’, but he decides to keep that little tidbit a secret for later.
"I'm not -- 'm not worth anything."
[ It's a lie, and she knows he knows that, but desperation does funny things to the subconscious mind. She shrinks away from him, eyes falling more towards his feet and she pauses, drawing a shaky breath. ]
"I-I'm not, so just -- let me go."
if you cant handle me at my worst then leave because i dont have a best im always awful
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“Kill you?” He sounds completely appalled, like the blood dripping from his hands isn’t a good enough indicator that something really terrible could happen to her. “No, no no nonono, why would I kill you?”
"You just -- you just killed that guy, and -- "
[ Her head's starting to spin and she really might be getting sick. The air is thick with the scent of copper and her shoulders tremble ever so softly. ]
“You’d swear you’d never seen a little blood before.”
[ She feels like she might be a little sick. ]
" -- Are you gonna kill me?"
au; crushed // of things that make their homes in our skin
"You can always nap in my bed if you want," and it’s not meant to be sexual and he’s dead serious about it because he knows he’s got some comfortable blankets and they’re warm and it’s hard to get up in the morning because they swallow him whole and and…he just wants to make sure she’s okay, "And I don’t know. I brought a ton of my dvds back with me and I was just gonna glance through them and pick something."
His smile is soft and tired and he’s exhausted and there’s a possibility that he might doze off as well but there’s this weird protective thing that rears up in him that says no no don’t let her be alone and he nods to himself without meaning to, swallowing hard as he nods towards the boarding house and leads the way, walking slowly, calm in the silence that hangs between them. Technically she can’t be in his room but when has he ever given a shit about the school’s rules? Never. The answer would be never.
She knows his intentions. After the first time he'd pushed, pushed with words she didn't deserve, compliments and passing remarks that reddened the tips of her ears, she'd made it at least a little clear that she wasn't comfortable. After that things had.. sort of settled between them. She was.. a little more at ease with him and to be honest it scares her, right to her core, because letting someone in isn't something she does, yet here was this stubborn, argumentative, and surprisingly sweet punk kid worming his way past layer after layer of defenses that had stood proud and impenetrable for years. She resigns herself to following him, shifting her hand to cover those glaring marks, and lifts her eyes towards the sky. If she could take off, right now, just fly away in the wind she'd take the first chance. Get her head to a clear space where pressure and people who hurt her didn't exist, couldn't exist, and couldn't drag her back down. Slowly, she shakes her head, and jogs slightly to catch up with her friend, coming to his side. If someone were to stop them she had an excuse prepared -- tutoring, he just needs to get something, I'm so sorry for the trouble. But they pass into the building without incident, and with a well-timed trip to his room, she's at his door and casting a nervous glance over her shoulder. "You're gonna get me in trouble one of these days. You know that, right?" An uneasy smile flickers over her features, fingers coming to rub over sore skin.
do u ever feel like no one actually wants to talk to you or even likes you
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au; crushed // of things that make their homes in our skin
Her skin is paper and Delsin can see the words that were once written, and twice erased. He notices during class but doesn’t say much. He keeps going on as usually and so does she but she seems so much more downtrodden and a little sad, a little more quiet, interacting with him a little less. There’s a feeling that festers in his gut and he’s dreading it he doesn’t want to ask her because people asked about his and he hated talking about it but maybe he’s over thinking this maybe just maybe.
"Genia," he says as he catches up with her later, and the day is winding down and classes are out, "Do…you wanna come back to my room with me and hang out for awhile? I wanna watch a movie, or something. And doing that by yourself is a pretty shitty experience." His eyes catch the bruises on her arm but they lift quick, and he gives her a hopeful smile, "I just stocked up on the good shit too. Skittles, popcorn, you name it. I have it."
She'd never really had much luck with makeup. These bruises were darker than usual and, even when hidden under her sleeve they felt glaring and bright and purple and she's.. ashamed of herself. For lack of fighting back, or for having earned them, she isn't quite sure. Most of the day passes without incident, something she is endlessly grateful for. Fingers play at the edge of her sleeve in unease, and God she hopes she can just go back to her room and lay down for a while, just to be in the quiet and the calm on her own. To be frank, she's more surprised at herself when Delsin approaches with his offer. She moves, subconsciously, to cover the blue and purple and yellow blemishes on her skin, and for a fraction of a second she feels his eyes on them and she knows, knows for certain he'll say something and finds herself sad? Disappointed? Relieved when he doesn't. She chews softly on the inside of her cheek. This.. quasi-friendship of theirs had stirred up lots of whispers, but if going with him means peace and quiet (even with the constant buzz of whatever movie he wants to watch) she will go eagerly. "I'm -- yeah. I just was gonna.. probably take a nap if I'm being honest." She shrugs, the corner of her lip twitching upwards, "What movie?"
Injuries Reference List
If you’re writing anything where your characters are getting injured a lot, it might be helpful to have an injuries reference list on hand. WELL, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT BECAUSE I CREATED ONE. This is mostly the result of me having to look up something every time a character was gravely injured/being a lifeguard for seven years. I have some knowledge of first aid and how it might apply to the characters in your story.
Simple scrapes/cuts: There’s usually not much to worry about besides MAYBE an infection, which can be avoided with rubbing alcohol or peroxide. Remember, peroxide usually doesn’t burn or sting, but rubbing alcohol probably will. These injuries will bleed for a short amount of time, but it shouldn’t last too long.
Bruising: These occur when the blood vessels break under the skin, forming discoloration of the skin. The colors can vary, but they are usually purplish, bluish, or yellow. Again, this injury is usually not serious if it’s a result of a bump or cut, but if there’s significant bruising over a large area of the body there might be a serious problem. Usually time heals bruising.
Sprains: A sprain is torn or stretched ligament, but it is NOT a break. It is very common for someone to sprain an ankle or a wrist and it usually doesn’t require serious medical attention. The area might swell and should be iced. Sprains are usually treated with rest and a device that compresses the area—such as a sling or a bandage.
Broken bones (arms, fingers, legs, toes): Breaks can be serious, especially if they have to be set back into place. A person will most likely not be able to put pressure on a broken bone until it is healed (which could take weeks). A broken bone is REALLY serious when it fractures or breaks through the skin completely. If you write a character in this sort of situation, they will need to worry about infection and they might have to wait until the swelling goes down before splitting or covering.
Burns: Obviously, there are different degrees of burns, but simple burns will most likely be treated the same. Even the smallest burns will probably sting like hell, so it can be hard to function with an untreated burn. SERIOUS burns might require amputation (I’m talking about maybe 3rd to 4th degree burns). As a 1st degree burn is healing, it might itch—think how sunburn starts to itch after a while.
Broken back: A broken back can lead to paralysis, so you need to be very careful with how you treat someone. Your characters shouldn’t be throwing anyone over their shoulders with a back injury because it will only lead to more serious problems. If you suspect that someone has broken or injured their back, you need to keep them still until there is a way to safely move them.
Amputation: This happens when the removal of a body part because necessary to someone’s survival.If someone has a bad infection or there’s no way to stop the bleeding (you’ve applied a tourniquet, which will most likely end up causing an amputation later), a character might have to amputate in a serious situation.
Dislocated limb: If a bone “pops” out of its socket, a character might have to put it back into place. A dislocated limb restricts movement, so your character might not be able to go forward until the situation is resolved. Arms and fingers are commonly dislocated and there will probably be pain when they’re set back into place. Those limbs should be rested and iced to prevent swelling.
Jammed fingers: If you get your finger caught in a door, for example, and it doesn’t break; you might have a jammed finger. I’ve had a few of these in my life, which usually causes bruising and some pain, but it heals on its own. These types of injuries can be from jamming your fingers against something hard and you might lose a finger nail. They will most likely hurt for a while until they are healed.
Stab wounds: These are usually deep cuts by a knife or a sword or another sharp object. They need to be treated, as they are prone to infection, and they should be bandaged. If the bleeding is excessively bad, a common way to stop the bleeding is to get stitches or cauterize the wound. Cauterization is the process of burning the wound in order to seal it up. Think of lightsabers in Star Wars. No one bleeds when they’re cut because the “blade” of the lightsaber cauterizes the wound as it cuts. Your characters might have to stitch someone or cauterize someone in an emergency situation.
Gunshot wounds: Getting shot is a serious/life threatening situation, so your characters would need immediate medical attention.In an emergency situation, the bullet might have to be dug out and the wound cauterized if the bleeding is severe. If the bullet goes in and out, you might just have to worry about infection and covering the wound. A gunshot wound will be painful and will take a while to heal. If someone is shot in the leg, they will have trouble walking. The limbs will need time to heal.
Poisoning: This is a wide topic that could include food poisoning to being poisoned by another character, but they will probably feel very sick. Symptoms will include vomiting, dehydration, diarrhea, etc. Your character might get severe stomach aches and will not be able to function. Being poisoned can be deadly and can happen quickly. A medicine called Ipecac will induce vomiting in order to get the poisons out of someone’s symptoms, but will not work for EVERYTHING. Further treatment might be necessary.
Stomach wound: A person with a stomach wound will not last very long without addressing it. If it is deep enough, it will kill off your character unless the bleeding and infection can be stopped. Infection is usually what kills people with stomach wounds or gunshot wounds.
This is a list to be used for WRITING purposes only. Obviously you should call a doctor or get emergency treatment if something is serious. I also wrote this list assuming that your characters don’t have access to medical professionals, so keep that in mind. Hope this helps!
-Kris Noel
all parents
leave ƒιηgєяρяιηтѕ
but some
вяєαк the gℓαѕѕ
the sexual tension between you and a game still in its plastic wrap
//of coping and corruption
Altogether, the thought of what awaited them scared the hell out of him. Even with the fleeting images from both she and Fetch’s mind, he could already tell he was going to be utterly and physically sick. He wanted to pretend that it wouldn’t effect him, really wanted to. But he loved these two people, they were his and he was theirs and g o d d a m m i t he lived through their emotions their feelings their everything.
So her answer made his stomach drop, bottom out, and he bit back the feeling of throwing up as he nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly, nodding once, again, three times, “okay, I guess.”
He slipped his phone from his pocket and sent a text or two, checked a couple things, and pocked it again, rolling his shoulders, shivering as they cracked. He could do this without combusting. He could. He could could because they survived the torture and he could survive the fucking ghosts.
"By which way of travel, and how far?" He asked as he approached her slowly, playing with the frayed strings of his hoodie sleeves, biting, pulling, nervous, nervous. His fingers stumbled numbly, bit by the cold, shy, hiding themselves in the bagging material.
Maybe this would help them all. Maybe this would bid them all an easier sleep. lighter minds, lighter bones. lighter hearts, stomachs, shoulders, eyes, everything. everything.
e v e r y t h i n g.
The smaller Conduit did not grow tense as the other drew himself closer -- but nor did she allow her stance to relax. She simply slid her gaze to him, the warning silent, but there, etched softly in weary features. Curden Cay was the place of nightmares, somewhere that haunted her most days, robbed her of sleep most nights, the vague sensation of leather straps digging into tender flesh, hands left free but -- it wasn't like she could control it, not with the pain, the voltage. Those angels that appeared, those demons that escaped, they were far cries from her subconscious mind in an effort of salvation, and that -- that had not worked. It hadn't worked for six years. " -- We weren't in the transport for long." Her, Fetch, and Hank. It'd maybe been three, four hours tops headed south along the coast. Memory would be able to serve her best, for while their mobile cage didn't offer a great view, she knew, from overhearing her mother, where the facility had been built. Just along the nation's border, tucked in a mountainous range kissed by snow, stood a concrete hell, stagnant and unwavering. Flight would be fastest -- and the sooner they could get things done, the better. She didn't want to linger on this longer than she had to. Hundreds of people had been locked away, there, and now it stood abandoned. No one would miss it, surely. As she chewed the inside of her lower lip, she made for the exit, clear her mind with clear, clean air, bask for a moment in the fact that passerby were as afraid of her as they were She Who Reigns because they were one and the same, not separate entities but a unified force. Lucky for her she'd juiced up before Delsin had arrived. This was going to take a bit of effort, to maintain her form over such a long distance. But, there was the fun. She could feel herself expand -- armor and wings shimmering into view and solidifying in faint bursts of pixels. This particular street, once alive with activity, had long since been abandoned out of fear of provoking the bio-terrorist that lurked below the buildings nearby. Large screens flickered with static as she grew, grew, expanded, until She Who Reigns hovered a story or so above ground, cloak billowing softly with each beat of mighty wings. She waited, idly, for Delsin to get to higher ground. For all her great power she still did poorly in enclosed spaces, and these buildings were just barely close enough that it made her feel fenced in.