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#but none of us are far removed or even immune to being in the exact same situation
chrollohearttags · 7 months
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truly hoping that everyone witnessing what’s going on and more so specifically what our president is doing right now and taking that into accountability when election time rolls around. Calling for that senile bastard to be held liable not only for the full funding and support of genocide/ethnic cleansing but the countless of other horrible deeds he’s committed since being in office is not being “pro trump” or republican. People are fucking tired and this inhumane treatment of the Palestinian people was more or less the breaking point. We watched how he and his entire campaign was centered around nothing more than engaging in a pissing contest with the blood orange. How every promise of monthly stimulus checks, erased student loans, wage raises, lower cost of living, etc ALL went down the drain the second he got sworn in. How our tax dollars were used to fund literal slaughter but people are sleeping in parking lots because they can’t afford housing. Healthcare is non existent, we can’t even afford to pay attention with minimum wage and we’re barely even able to fill our tanks or grocery baskets with our entire paychecks being thrown at it. As people keep saying, the propaganda is no longer working. Is*eal, Biden and every other sick entity in support of harming these people are being called out abs rightfully so. No one is subscribing to their bullshit ideologies anymore. No one is believing this rallying around the flag, blind patriotism, etc. call it desensitization or overexposure but we have real time access to information that refutes any of these influencer or corporate advertising. Continue to be tired, continue to be angry and continue to question everything because silence equals complicity and that’s exactly what they want.
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ushidoux · 3 years
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Power Struggle - Ushijima x Reader
Summary: You’re set up on a blind date with a man who might just be your match.  (~5.1k words)
Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, blind date, exhibitionism, public sex
A/N: Part of @cherrytenko​’s CEO collab! Surprisingly this is possibly the longest fic I’ve written as a oneshot and it’s a little softer than I expected it to be but please enjoy!
---
It’s about half past 6pm when you add the final touch to your makeup, a smear of matte lipstick (Rouge Hermes #48, to be exact), to your lips.
It’s not often that you’re able to leave work early but your mother and father had called you from overseas in the late afternoon, interrupting their own third honeymoon, to remind you of your final meeting for the day - 
A date.
“I know you hate these things, but just go! You might like what you see,” your mother insisted over video chat, her voice muffled by the sound of wind whipping past her as she and your father cruised along on a shaky speedboat they’d purchased just for the day. You weren’t completely sure where they were, only vaguely aware that they were somewhere around Jeju Island, and not exactly sure why they still had phone service, but you weren’t going to ask too many questions.
“No obligation!” Your father adds, just out of view and yelling slightly. 
Sure, never any obligations.
As you smack your lips in the mirror to smooth out the lip color, giving yourself a brief once-over to decide whether or not you feel the need to adjust your hair or if you will wear falsies or not, you frown ever so slightly, then let out a sigh.
You hate this. 
This is the third “meeting” they’ve arranged for you this month, and they’d been at this for almost six months overall by now. This search for a ‘suitable husband’ was getting stale -  not to mention, time-consuming - and you weren’t sure you would be willing to appease your parents any longer.
In fact, you weren’t exactly sure you were interested in a partner anymore. The clock would hit thirty any moment now, and the math of falling in love, getting married, having kids, and still heading a successful company no longer seemed to be adding up. You didn’t know how exactly to tell your sweet parents who were the picture of domestic bliss that they’d probably have to give up on the idea of grandchildren, and consider raising puppies instead.
Regardless, for the time being, you could still bother to meet this stranger for dinner.
There’s a clasp seal envelope atop your dresser - a portfolio that had been left on your desk by your father’s assistant at the beginning of the week - that still seems entirely too formal for the process. This is matchmaking, not a job application, was the first thought that came to mind once you realized the envelope held a set of photos, a resume and an admittedly curt but formally written statement reminiscent of a cover letter.
Ushijima Wakatoshi, the signature at the bottom of the letter read in an extremely neat script. He must be particularly organized and detail-oriented.
There were two pictures, one that looked almost like a passport photo and the other much more relaxed, where he was dressed casually in a t-shirt and pressed jeans, standing with his arms crossed beside a redheaded man whose smile was wide and infectious, his arm around his neck. You wondered if he picked those photos himself. 
You’d perused the first photo much more carefully because you could see more of his face. He’s quite handsome, you’d admitted, the faintest warmth in your cheeks, but he seemed awfully uptight. For one, the look on his face was very neutral, not bothering to smile. He was clean shaven and his hair was close cropped at the edges, a woody brown that paired well with serious olive eyes. You wondered if he ever laughed out loud, and what he looked like when he did.
The taxi driver is prompt and waiting outside of the high-rise in which you live by the time you make your way down the elevator. The click of your heels is loud on the tile as you make your way past the revolving doors. As you slip into the back of the car, you wonder if you’re dressed too professionally. You may have forgone the women’s pantsuit, but you’re still wearing a feminine pantsuit-esque ensemble in a creamy beige - pink would have seemed too ditzy, white would have seemed a bit too innocent (not to mention risky) and yellow too juvenile.
You’re not sure why you’re thinking so hard about this, but really years of paying attention to your appearance in public, not being taken seriously because you’re pretty and young and your personality is more bubbly than bossy puts you on your guard, especially when it comes to first impressions.
The location appears to be an upscale sushi restaurant, the type that you have to call ahead for months to get a reservation unless you have some kind of special arrangement with the owner. A staff member checks you in and brings you to the back to a private room, and as you pass through the dimly lit hallway, clutching your purse a little too securely, a scene from a yakuza movie comes to mind.
“Your room, madam,” the young man nods and motions you to enter a room that is brightly lit enough that it is almost blinding, large and round as though you were in a fishbowl yourself. You look up and notice that even the ceiling is curved. Elaborate paintings hang off the wall. 
He’s not here.
You glance at the attendant and he raises his eyebrows as though he is expecting you to say something. You must look surprised, and continue to look so as you remove your shoes to sit at one of the thin mattresses set before the low table.
You wish you’d worn stockings perhaps, tucking your bare feet beneath you in a casual seiza position. You can’t recall the last time you’ve been this traditional/formal, and the thought of a man you barely know already knowing what your feet look like bare bothers you just a bit. 
The attendant pours water and then tea for two wordlessly and slips out of the room. 
Your heart pounds once you’re finally alone. Why is this so intense? 
You fidget nervously with the thin silver necklace you are wearing, looking for a menu. There is none so far. Just square plates, both chopsticks and forks (odd for sushi, you think), and a steaming cup of tea set right next to a sweltering crystal glass of ice cold water. Opposites.
For a fleeting moment, you actually wonder for once if this man will like you. 
“My apologies, Ms. ___.”
You’re startled by a rich voice, a tiny gasp revealing that you’re more spooked than you realize, and your eyes shift towards the direction of the sound to see what looks like your date finally arriving in a hurry. 
You instinctively readjust yourself onto your knees to look formal, then realize you should probably stand instead, but before you can get up he waves you to sit back down, now settling down himself across from you.
“I had intended to arrive early but quite a few things happened at the company to make that unfeasible.”
He said this while removing a suit jacket in a way that was in no way intended to be sexy, not at all, then let out what sounded like a single, semi-nervous chuckle. 
Wordlessly, you replied with a nod, transfixed as you compared photography to reality. The photos didn’t do him justice, not at all. The suit jacket was picked up quickly by a waiter who you had forgotten was still in the room.
Ushijima extended an arm to you across the table, intending to shake your hand.
“Did you wait long?” He asks as you shakily take his hand for a handshake that consumes your hand almost entirely in his large one.
You shake your head, then embarrassed when you realize you aren’t using your voice, and add, “No, I didn’t wait long...”
“Are you hungry?” He replies, quickly. Your instinct is to say no, no you didn’t need anything, especially not from him, but you are pretty sure your stomach would growl loudly any minute now, and you’d only look like a fool. 
Ushijima glances at the waiter, who finally hands the two of you menus.
“Please order anything you like.”
You look down, swallowing hard again, and for a moment it is difficult to focus on the unnecessarily elaborate handwriting on the menu.
Something about him already grates on your nerves and you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. You could forgive people for being late, and you were used to people being a little forward, but something about the way he was both familiar and unfamiliar in the way he spoke to you seemed to veer into patronizing behavior. 
Why wasn’t he nervous? Every man you’d sat across from in the past half a year had just a little waver in their voice when they spoke to you at some point, even those who had started off boasting their fancy degrees and their villas and their large bank accounts. 
But he sits perfectly still, all broad shoulders, gently wafting cologne, and a gaze that is both disconcerting and impartial, so you don’t know what to think. 
When you look up from the menu to him, his eyes are still heavily focused on you, and you can’t really fault him. There’s nothing else to look at in this room, after all.
You take this opportunity to tease him. No man has ever intimidated you before and this one is no different.
“Are you going to order anything? I barely saw you look at the menu.” Your voice is light and coquettish and it implies, all you’re doing is staring at me.
“I already know my order. I’ve been here enough times,” he replies, immune to the playfulness in your voice. You watch him roll up his sleeves as he answers, and take note of the shape of his hands as he takes a sip of tea.
Maybe you’re the one staring.
“Would you like a recommendation?” He offers as he sets the cup down. 
You shake your head no, and wonder again why you’re making gestures instead of talking. He smiles as though he can read your mind.
Once the waiter takes your orders and leaves the room, you’re left in silence, facing your would-be partner. It’s a stalemate of sorts and you lose, asking the first personal question.
But you ask it semi-clinically, refusing to lose the upper hand. You’re not sure why there’s an upper hand, but there is, and it will be yours.
“I read a little about your company before arriving. You gave me quite a few details, which I appreciated,” you state, turning your head to the side politely to take a sip of tea yourself. “You’ve done very well for yourself as CEO,” you add.
His eyes don’t crinkle from the flattery. “My employees do great work at all levels so it’s only natural that there would be positive growth,” he replies matter-of-factly.
You smile politely, but this answer doesn’t give you very much information about him. He’s shifting the success away from him, you remark, however he accepts the compliment as though expected. Is this genuine humility or arrogance?
You lean very slightly forward, just enough to see if he’ll take the opportunity to glance down your blouse, as other suitors have invariably done. He doesn’t, and you proceed to ask the next question.
“What do you do outside of work?”
His eyebrows raise, and you wonder if it’s because he realizes you are pretending you didn’t read that section on his application, but he answers anyway.
“I don’t have very much free time, as you are probably aware, but I garden and paint. And of course, I like to keep fit through team sports.”
A quick look at him makes that last part quite clear. You clear your throat slightly and then it is silent again. It’s not exactly an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not comfortable either.
Just as you wonder why he isn’t asking you any questions, he suddenly speaks up.
“Pardon me if this sounds inappropriate, but you’re beautiful. Why would you need a matchmaking service?”
You’re taken aback, and while your brain is scrambling for understanding of what his intentions are, he adjusts his sitting position so that he’s cross-legged with both hands on his knees and lets out a sigh before continuing.
“You’re also accomplished and clearly articulate. I don’t imagine you’d have trouble finding a partner through more organic means.”
It seems like there are a million butterflies that suddenly inhabit the small space in the pit of your stomach. Again, you’re at a loss for words, something that is rare for someone as opinionated and cordially fierce as you.
Should you be offended? It’s almost as though he’s asking what’s wrong with you?
He asks frankly, “Why a blind date?”
You want to ask him the same question, but you hear the waiter return and you fall silent, letting the butterflies in your stomach die down.
---
“I-is this the first time - ah - you’ve done this?”
You’re no longer laid out on the tatami like you were just an hour earlier, Ushijima nibbling on your lower lip and your collarbones instead of the overpriced, high-quality fish that sat atop your table, but now laid under him, spread eagle save for the hands you use to hold on to his shoulders as he slowly and deliberately thrusts inside you. 
Your voice is breathy and catches in your throat every time he moves, but you have to know. How often has he ended up like this?
The heat that fills your whole body now isn’t just from the shame of letting a stranger fondle your body in an upscale restaurant, it’s because Ushijima somehow knows exactly where and how to touch you, as though he’s always known. His fingers have traveled your body like a hiker on a well-beaten path, from the softness behind your earlobes to your squishy center and back, and now have settled into a hold that is firm yet gentle on your hips. 
When he replies “no” with immense honesty, his mouth sinks into the crook of your neck and he goes just deep enough that you don’t have time to factor this new information into your impression of him.
So instead you savor the thickness that fills you and the strength that holds you close, the soft grunts that fill your ears before they get drowned out by your equally loud whimpers and moans.
---
You don’t spend the night, partially out of shame that Ushijima bedded you so quickly and partially because you have a full schedule for the next morning. The parting of ways is brief and awkward and you seem to feel it more acutely than he does.
“I enjoyed our time, Miss ___,” he offers. You’ve dressed up faster than he has so you find yourself unwittingly ogling at the expanse of his sculpted chest and the flex of his muscles as he redresses. You’re almost sad to see him cover up.
You nod and walk out of the room, trying your best to hide the fact that your legs feel far too wobbly to be walking on these heels.
---
“Miss ____?”
Your eyes widen as you realize you’ve been daydreaming through a meeting with the board of trustees and now the wrinkled old men who hated the fact that your father thrust you into leadership you “didn’t deserve” are staring at you with disgruntled expressions.
“Oh, um,” you think quickly, recalling where the presentation left off and glancing quickly at the notes you’d jotted down on a notepad before wondering why Ushijima hadn’t called or texted since you met two weeks ago.
“Um?” The most senior of the group repeats, and your stomach turns for a moment before you steel yourself. He bares his teeth every time he’s displeased with you and you get the impression of an ancient and disgruntled wolf. 
You clear your throat loudly, and settle back in your chair, crossing your legs and your arms over your chest.
“I have some disagreements with the current approach, but I’ll start with the pertinent positives,” you start.
---
“Was the sex at least good?”
Your best friend from high school glances at you briefly, as you face forward on the Peloton you are riding side by side with her. She’s much less out of shape than you are given that she also is your personal trainer and thus rides hers effortlessly, taking some time to wait for you to respond.
You begrudgingly say yes.
“Wow, for once someone dropped you before you could drop them!” She teases in a sing-song voice. You would slap her on the shoulder if she was close enough and if you weren’t out of breath. It stings just a little bit that you’ve heard nothing from him nor the matchmaking company and don’t have a good response to tell your parents aside from I guess we didn’t click.
“He’s missing out, though.”
“Yeah, no shit,” you huff, and cycle faster. No hard feelings.
---
Scratch that, there were absolutely going to be hard feelings now that he was not just fucking with you but also with your livelihood.
Admittedly, it was strange that despite the fact that your companies had never crossed paths until now despite working in the same consumer domain but this was unacceptable.
You’d opened an email that had just slipped into your peripheral vision as you worked on reviewing a couple of interns’ executive summaries, only to find that Ushijima might have just royally fucked you over.
A curt email from a crucial business partner read,
We apologize but we’ve decided to move forward with Ushijima Industries instead. I understand that this is last minute, but we believe that it will be mutually beneficial to discontinue our relationship at this point in time.
Your blood boiled. What the fuck was this?
Your phone rang, one of your team leaders calling immediately and likely looking at the email at the same time you were. He apologized profusely.
“What happened?”
“It seems like they just showed up and offered twice as much as we offered them last minute.”
This bastard. Then in a moment of horror, you wondered if this was your fault, if you had blabbed a little while slightly tipsy off of sake, and revealed that you had this acquisition in the works.
Voice smaller now, you asked, “So we can’t do anything to woo them back?”
“No, I don’t think so. I just have to make sure our other deal doesn’t fall through,” the slightly frantic man answered, the sounds of keyboard keys clicking rapidly heard in the background of the call. 
“Okay, thank you for your hard work,” you stated. “I’ll see what I can do,” you replied with a click. 
Maybe calling someone who’d ghosted you as you drove home, fuming and irritated, wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to confront him somehow. The idea of being bested in more ways than one was too much to bear.
The phone rang once, twice, then three times, and you were getting angrier with every tone through the car speaker. You hung up in frustration.
How embarrassing.
You made it home still irritated, indulging yourself in a relaxing bath to quell your anger. By the time you had soaked for close to an hour, you were mad at yourself for reacting impulsively and now having your number in his phone as a missed call… if he recognized it anyway.
It turns out he did.
“Ms. ___, did you call me earlier? I wasn’t able to make it to the phone in time.”
His voice was even lower on the phone, a slightly gravelly quality making you wonder if he’d actually been napping or just had a smoke. You couldn’t imagine him doing either of these things.
“What kind of game are you playing, Mr. Ushijima?”
There was a bit of hesitation on the phone, and you let out a sardonic laugh once he replied, as expected, “What?”
“How did you know about that deal other than what I told you?”
He paused again, and you too, stood still, a towel wrapped around your still dripping body.
“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he then said, carefully. “I, uh… assume you were calling about something else.”
You grit your teeth. What the fuck else? The fact that he sounded genuinely confused only served to aggravate you further.
“Did you or did you not use the information I gave you to intercept my deal with MNY?”
Finally the lightbulb went on.
“Oh, that was you. Hm.”
If you’d been talking in person, you probably would have slapped him at this point. Or at least considered it.
“I didn’t know you were our competitor in that aspect. I… probably would have reconsidered if I had known.”
“Excuse me?”
That tone of over-familiarity, patronizing… the care when you’re not supposed to care was back and you realized you regretted this phone call. 
“How would it be any different? Are you implying that you’d let me win?”
“No, of course not, I…” He trailed off. “Would you like to come over to my apartment and talk? I can give you my address, I would rather talk in person.”
Why? So I can get over there and end up fucking you again?
“I respectfully decline,” you answered curtly, and hung up, tossing your phone onto your bed and letting out an aggravated sigh. 
---
The next morning, you leave an early executive meeting only to find that your office had been overrun with flowers between the hours of 7 to 8 am.
There are yellow roses, stating admiration, spilling out of an oversized bouquet on your desk and a separate bouquet of light red carnations and white camellias that imply that he finds you ‘adorable’. A white card is placed in the yellow bouquet, and on it is written Ushijima’s neat script - you realize it’s from him before you even finish reading the note.
I would like to see you again. Please accept my call around 6 pm.
Respectfully, 
Ushijima Wakatoshi
Your hands hover over the wastebasket in your room with the flowers in your arms, but instead you sigh, and stuff them behind you on your shelf. At least you won’t have to see them while you work, but they’re pretty. They’re clearly bought from a floral shop, but you recall that he had said he gardened in his free time.
Ushijima calls promptly at 6 pm and you let it ring twice before deciding to block his number just as he’s calling. Something about the action is satisfying. 
You can’t be won over with a couple of flowers and kind words. Women aren’t as easily swayed as he may think.
---
It’s another Friday, and surprisingly you haven’t been contacted for a blind date, whether it’s by your parents or the matchmaking service they’ve subscribed you to.
Maybe they’d gotten the message after you’d been ghosted that you were tired of this game. Maybe they were giving you a break. Maybe they’d run out of potential suitors. You were surprised, but not upset.
Ushijima had truly gotten under your skin.
After blocking his call, there were no more attempts at contact for the rest of the week. The only thing left to consider was that if you ever crossed paths in your careers, you would pay him back for snatching your investor. 
And snatching your dignity in the process.
It was about 4 pm and most of the employees were wrapping up their tasks for the day. You usually aimed to have everyone out by 5, especially on Friday so this was boding well. 
“Hey, Madam President, are you okay with an add-on?” You hear your secretary call from outside your door.
“Oh, I mean, I guess but-”
She’s already letting Ushijima through the door.
You smile sweetly, maintaining professional behavior as best you can, while your secretary leads him to an armchair across from you, up until she exits, your expression souring the moment she closes the door.
“Mr. Ushijima, what are you doing in my office?”
He’s settled into the chair so comfortably that it feels as though you’re in his office, not your own. He’s dressed more casually than he was at the restaurant, no suit jacket, just a brown V-neck sweater over a dress shirt that almost seems too tight and a pair of chinos. He’s also wearing a pair of glasses, which is new. 
You hate that he looks good.
“Apologizing and requesting your company.”
He looks at you sincerely, his hands clasped together in his lap. You narrow your eyes.
“Please leave.”
He actually frowns, and the small action actually surprises you. 
“Do you actually want me to leave or are you still upset about the investor? Because if it’s that, we can make an arrangement-”
“No, I’m upset because you did that after not following up after our one night stand!” You finally blurt out, then bite your lip realizing you might have said too much.
“I… got busy.”
“Busy screwing me over?” You quip.
He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture.
“I didn’t call because I thought you didn’t like me.”
You’re a little stunned by this reply, then decide you don’t believe him. What was there not to like? At least at that point he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Why would you think that?”
His hands leave his hair again and rest on his knees. You notice it seems like a default position for him. 
“I’ve been referred to as ‘stiff’. It’s great at work but not great for relationships.”
Ushijima’s brutal honesty is again sending you for a loop. You raise an eyebrow, bidding him to continue. Your arms uncross and you rest your elbows on the table.
“So…?”
“So usually by the time I’ve had sex with someone, it’s all they’re after. And since you didn’t call, I assumed even the sex wasn’t good.”
You unwittingly burst into laughter. Here was this successful, attractive man with a perfect pedigree who was insecure about how good he was in bed?
His eyebrows furrow, and you recollect yourself, realizing that this is a bit cruel.
“You could have sent a text,” you murmur.
“I’m bad at starting conversations.”
You stifle another laugh. “So you just don’t?” You tease. It’s gently mocking but mostly incredulous. It seems that he’s the opposite of the confident man he appears to be.
“That’s why I got excited when you called but then you were upset.”
You purse your lips.
“I promise I didn’t intend to put you in a bad situation,” Ushijima insists.
You sigh, then offer him a small smile. “Are you normally this persistent?”
He glances at the flowers that are only partially hidden from view, which makes your face warm up bashfully, and then looks right back at you.
“No. I just like you.”
Again with the directness, a confidence that is effortless, even when he’s not confident at all.
You don’t want to melt but you do. So instead you rise and clear your desk, stuffing a few items into your handbag as you prepare to leave. He watches, unsure of what you’re up to, sitting still as you walk around towards him and place your hand lightly on his shoulder.
Your body faces the door, but you turn to the side to look at him and grin.
“I’m done with work for today. Take me out.”
---
A couple months later...
“Fuck, you’re - ah - they’re gonna know, I-” Your voice morphs into a mewl instead once his ring finger reaches just the right spot; you’re squirming as much as possible under his touch but he has you laid back on your work desk with both ankles rested on his shoulders and his weight leaning onto you to essentially keep you in place.
“Move your hands,” Ushijima whispers in a hushed tone, leaning in to kiss between your breasts as he readjusts your legs atop him. His pants are down and his cock is already up and ready, the base and swollen balls rubbing against your wet cunt that you are desperately trying to protect from his intrusion. You know there’s absolutely no way you’ll stay quiet when he’s pounding the shit out of you, he likes it entirely too rough, and the walls are thin. You don’t listen, continuing to reach for his hands to swat them away from you.
There’s a part of you that is almost certain that at the very least your secretary knows that every time Ushijima comes for a ‘meeting’, it really is just to fuck the shit out of you before you leave together for the evening, or to relax you right before you once again have to defend your dad’s establishment of you as Company President.
This isn’t a good look.
“I-I can’t…” you whine.
“You can,” he assures you.
He gently kisses your face before prying your hands out of the way and keeping them pinned up against you with one hand and guiding his trajectory with the other before sinking inside of you. You moan at the breach of your privates and he quickly presses his lips to yours to swallow the sound.
Once he’s bottomed out, he rolls his hips, and soon you start to see white once you climax, clenching and cumming around him.
“T-Toshi!” You moan his name, and he clasps a large hand around your mouth before continuing, picking up the pace as he fucks you through your orgasm. He can’t deny that he likes the fact that you’re noisy, that the fact that the heavy desk he’s fucking you against is making a squeaky noise that suggests he’s really putting some force behind these strokes, and that if anyone could see the two of you now, it could be an issue for both of your corporations. Misconduct, they would call it.
He doesn’t care and while you act like you do, you don’t really care either. 
When he lets go of your wrists to use the edge of the desk as leverage and tilts backwards, you scream in pleasure, a terribly obvious sound, and it’s enough to have him tip over and spill into you with a groan. He collapses onto you and the two of you almost slip onto the floor, but don’t; you wrap your arms around him. 
Your hair is disheveled and so is his, and your legs are sticky with sweat and cum. You sigh, letting him soften inside you and stroke his hair.
“You’re getting me in trouble,” you murmur, and he lets out a breathy laugh.
“We don’t really have to answer to anyone, do we?” He replies with a smirk, and pecks you one more time on the lips.
He’s right - only you two are a match for each other.
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ironmandeficiency · 4 years
Text
our love will (never) end
pairing: dogma / reader
word count: 3414
summary: all you wanted was for dogma to come back home but you don’t recognize the broken man that comes off the ship coming straight from umbara.the next time he sees you, he doesn’t recognize you either.
warnings: implied canon typical violence, angst af, umbara happened, lemme know if smth was missed
a/n: don’t say i didn’t warn y’all. no beta just me drinkin’ my dumb bitch juice
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you’d spent more than half your life around the clones, had become used to their presence since your mother was recruited to train them in combat. had even helped with the youngest ones when they were fresh from their tubes, washing the fluids from them before wrapping them in their first set of clothes. the clones had become your brothers and friends, and they were much better company than the longnecks that occupied tipoca city.
once you were old enough, you joined them in their training. you learned their battle techniques, the subtle languages they spoke without uttering a word, you were one of them.
that’s why the losses sustained at the battle of geonosis, the first true test on the training they spent their lives surrounded by, wounded you so deeply.
days after the battle you were able to weasel your way into the records kept by the longnecks. it took you nearly hours to finish scanning the holo list of numbers, and only seconds for the grief to thrum through your veins, to settle into your bones. so many of your friends were lost that day, many that you had given names to, and your shoulders were aching under the weight of a loss that substantial.
then they were assigned to generals, jedi that probably wouldn’t care about who they were as men, as living beings with hearts and minds and souls that were far more different than the origins of their creation led people to believe. kamino had never been so empty as it had been once battalions were formed and assignments given, thousands of soldiers being sent to war.
the solemn emptiness took some getting used to, as did the togruta jedi sent to kamino to oversee the functioning of the cloning facility. she was kind though, and none of the clones appeared afraid of her so she was okay in your book. the one thing that you had yet to get used to was the fear you’d see in the eyes of a clone before their first assignment.
even though this is what they were raised to do, was what they were told by the longnecks was their only purpose (it was banthashit and you never hesitated to express as much), there was still a residual fear because they had seen brothers come back from the battlefield. they also knew that not all of them returned to their battalions once they left the front lines.
this knowledge was common, and there were many secrets told to you by long dead men about things that would have gotten them into trouble with immeasurable consequences. things they did to pass the time, things that made them happy like singing or writing poetry. it didn’t take you long after bonding with the clones as a young child that you realized that you were different than them, that you were lucky to be able to play and smile and be a child.
you lamented this discovery to your mother once. all she said was that the soldiers were dealt a shit hand by the galaxy and that they were lucky to have you to make it better for them. then she would tell you bedtime stories and fairy tales she knew good and well that you would relay to your identical brothers young and old.
but these days, you weren’t allowed to show the clones that kindness, that silliness that you were able to have with your brothers all those years ago. you were an adult now, and as such you would soon be expected to aid in the training of the republic’s soldiers despite a lack of actual outside world experience. you hadn’t left kamino since you arrived here as a child and had never used your training in a real-life situation.
what if you failed them? what if you taught something wrong and it resulted in their CT number being the next to show up on the lists of casualties? you were quaking with fear at the trust being placed in you.
which is why you were sitting outside during the kind of downpour kamino was known for, each raindrop heavier than your heart. no bother was given to your sopping wet state nor to the fact you’d get sick from this.
then you were joined in the rain by a familiar form.
“your immune system isn’t made to withstand this weather for very long.” some would have thought him to be uncaring, even callous and dickish with his words, but not you. this was the way he showed he cared about you — very seldom with those exact words, and never in a way where someone he didn’t want to know could see that he cared.
your eyes flitted up to his before returning their focus on the crashing waves around you. “my heart wasn’t made to withstand you leaving me.”
he sank to the ground beside you, the sound of his breathing being heard once he removes his helmet and lays it down beside his sitting form. an arm finds itself around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, a gentle kiss being placed against your rain-slick temple.
his touch warms you from your nose to the tips of your toes in spite of the cold rain pouring down. it was something he was able to do effortlessly and it never failed to bring a smile to your face. “i’m never truly gone, cyare. you’ll always be able to find me no matter where i am in the galaxy.”
a gloved hand found your shaking ones, his thumb smoothing over the top of your hand in an attempt to quell the shaking. you squeeze it in thanks and let yourself be pulled into his lap by it, your face quick to nuzzle into his neck.
“promise me you’ll be safe, dogma.”
“of course, my love.”
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when he joined the five-oh-first comms were as frequent as possible, and when you weren’t able to talk to him, your eyes would be glued to the casualty reports that made their way to kamino. his number was never among the most of the dead, thank the stars, and that knowledge would sustain you until he would finally have the chance to talk to you again.
it was late into the night cycle when your private channel beeped, signifying an incoming call from dogma.
“that last mission… it was rough, cyare. i’m sorry i couldn’t comm you sooner.”
“never apologize, i know it’s not easy out there.”
dogma could never grow tired of the way you were so patient for him, for the things he did day in and day out. it made what he was about to say even harder for him.
“this next mission isn’t going to have any free time, we’re being sent planetside on umbara within two rotations. i don’t know how long the planetary takeover will last, but there won’t be a moment where we’re not unconscious or fighting. i won’t be able to talk for a while, my light. please understand.” he sounded almost in tears, like there was a lump in his throat trying to keep the words from escaping, to keep from hurting you.
you didn’t like to hear him like that. your strong and brave dogma crippled by emotion was never a comforting experience, especially when you couldn’t hold him and guide him out of the dark spaces his mind crawled into.
“never feel guilty for doing your duty, for keeping your brothers safe. just be sure you come home to me when your duty is done.”
“i’ll always come home to you, i swear it.”
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the longnecks were in a tizzy three days later, rambling about a defect on the front lines. the sounds of a panicked kaminiise was not a sound you thought you’d ever hear again after what happened on christophsis. you eavesdropped plenty but you could never catch a CT number or a planet or a battalion name which infuriated you to no end. it was time to check the most recent records to see if you could find something there.
the morning cycle was minutes from beginning when you made your way to an unrestricted holoscreen where several reports were pulled up. your eyes scanned the writing; there was the familiar list of the dead, several more numbers sending waves of grief to crash against your soul.
information about how three members of the five-oh-first defied orders and flew umbaran ships in a successful attempt to destroy the separatist ship giving supplies to the enemy, and the death of one of the troopers involved in the unsanctioned air raid, one ct-6969 — hardcase. another wave crashed against your weary heart and was beginning to turn your insides into a hurricane that kamino’s oceans could only dream of rivaling.
there were details about the botched execution of two clones who defied the aforementioned direct orders from a general pong krell, ct-27-5555 and ct-5597 — fives and jesse.
pong krell wasn’t dogma’s general, wasn’t the general of the boys in blue. that was anakin skywalker and dogma spoke highly of his jedi general the few times he was brought up in conversations. pong krell, even though you’d never had the displeasure of meeting the besalisk in person, knew of his reputation.
he was cruel and vicious, using the lives of those under his command as rungs on his own ladder of wartime success. many of the brothers you loved perished under his commands and his name was an eyesore.
most jarring was the depiction of how a clone shot general pong krell in the back, and how the clone’s sentence was to be decided upon once they arrived on kamino.
that meant one of three things: euthanization, reconditioning, and experimentation followed by one of the former options. none of them are by any means pleasant, but you hoped for that trooper’s sake that they were allowed peace no matter their offenses.
but now one question remained: who killed the jedi general? why was his CT number not mentioned in the files? you had to talk to dogma, to make sure he was safe, that he was finding healthy ways to grieve the loss of hardcase, to cope with everything this report says occurred on the shadow planet.
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“i know you said you wouldn’t be able to talk while on umbara but i just read the reports sent to the longnecks. i’m scared and i need to hear your voice for a second, just a second, please.”
“i heard about hardcase,” you sniffled and swallowed your grief for one of your dearest friends in the name of supporting your beloved. “what him and jesse and fives did… the death of the jedi. please answer me, i need to know you’re okay.”
“you know i wouldn’t ask this of you any other time, but please give me something, tell me you’re alive! tell me you survived the carnage of pong krell!”
“dogma, answer me please! you’re scaring me!”
“ner kar’ta, please don’t make me add you to my remembrances. please, dogma, don’t make me do it…”
“dogma… ni kart’ayl darasuum.”
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fitful sleep came with you clutching your commlink against your heart, tears falling like rain. there was a good chance that maybe he was mangled beyond recognition, or maybe they haven’t noticed he was missing yet. there had to be a reason dogma wasn’t on the list of the lost and why he hadn’t answered you.
then your commlink crackled you life. “who is this and how do you know dogma?”
did fate exist only to torment you? that’s what it felt like in this moment.
“i’m not answering any questions until you tell me where he is and how you found that commlink.”
logic told you that the person on the other end was indeed a clone, but your mind was too jumbled for you to recognize who it was. you had to clean up the mess your love left behind you and dogma, anything to keep him from punishment.
“the name’s fives, the comm was confiscated when we… when we had to court martial him for disobedience.”
disobedience? dogma? those words may start with the same letter but they couldn’t be more juxtaposed if the words themselves put effort into it. then your mind reminds you of details from that karking report and you suddenly feel like you had been tossed into the roaring waves below you.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”
the arc trooper grew enraged in his grief, in the horrors of what he saw on umbara and the audacity you had to accuse him of hurting his brother. “he did it to himself! he did it to protect us all from that demagolka even though no one ordered him to! when no one had the courage to do it, not even rex!”
what did your cyare do? your heart was in denial of the ideas your brain supplied because now they were leading to the same place.
“was he the one that killed krell?”
silence.
“fives! was he the one to-“
“yes! kriff, it was him! he’s the one who did it!”
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dogma remembers the besalik’s traitorous admission and the way he manipulated dogma for his own benefit, to divide his brothers enough to keep them from revealing his plan. the way he and the five-oh-first fired on their own brothers, how their own brothers fired on them. naive death caused by what dogma discovered was the blind loyalty he heard others talk about when it came to following orders.
he remembers the feeling of the bracers around his wrist as he was escorted to the laat, the nods from his brothers as they give him respect he isn’t sure he earned for killing the man who caused them so much suffering.
the only thing that his mind doesn’t bring to his attention is the commlink that was stripped from him when taken into the umbaran cell, the only means of communicating with you without taking immeasurable risk.
he’s halfway to kamino by the time his mind registers that it isn’t with him and it’s the first true fear he’s felt since he was led into the cell by his own brothers and krell revealing how he manipulated every last one of them.
his thoughts drifted to what would become of him once he returned to the planet he was born on, the planet where he met the only sunshine he had to speak of on the shadow planet that sealed his fate. he hopes to see you before he’s punished for his actions but that’s uncertain. there’s no guarantee that you’re going to know he was returning, even more so under the circumstances that he’s coming back under.
there’s one certainty dogma has through all of this: he’s going to die on kamino. but if he’s able to see you in person and hold you in his arms one last time, then he’d accept death with open arms.
the last thoughts that run through his head as he’s being pulled from the ship and into longneck custody are of talking to you only days before, when things were still okay, when there wasn’t friendly fire instigated by a traitor, when dogma hadn’t killed a jedi.
his duty was in fact done, and he was coming home, but there was no guarantee that you would be part of that home, not after what he’s done.
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you fail. despite the strength of your love and determination to find him, you don’t.
in all your years of finding longneck secrets and reading their reports, there was nothing on dogma. there was no record of his presence here and it was chilling. you knew the sorts of things that could be found in reports (and they were by no means pleasant), but if even these assholes weren’t going to keep digital record of it, it must be bad.
no one even saw the arrival of the ship dogma was carried in and there was no footage from any of the docks’ security cameras. your lover was a ghost, a wisp, a memory. even the cadets that dogma had known before he deployed (slightly older now, almost ready to be sent to the front lines) seemed to forget about their ori’vod.
it was as if dogma didn’t exist outside of your own head. like he was a figment of your imagination that you would conjure when the nights got lonely. you frequently drew his v tattoo in hopes of you keeping its pattern fresh in your mind because dogma deserved to be remembered. for his sacrifice, for his loyalty, for how deep his love ran not just for his brothers and the republic, but for you.
months flew by with endless searching, digging through files and scouring the base when no one was around. it was all in vain. dogma was no more; at least, not the dogma you knew.
you had found a new normal in your life on kamino. taking up the torch of training young cadets that your mother carried before you, doing your best to ensure their survival in a war built to destroy. dogma was carried with you always, but you stopped asking others about him, resigned to keeping him in your heart like a deep secret. what little hobbies one could find on the rainy planet were indulged as you tried to refill the time you allotted to talk to your cyare before he faded from the memories of his brothers.
since obtaining your new training role, many of the clones looked to you as an authority figure and not an equal. you were a superior now, and they treated you as such. there were no words in any language that you could find that could convey how uncomfortable you were with that, not when you had grown up with so many of them, had swaddled them when they emerged from their growth tanks.
although, there was one clone whom you called a friend these days that didn’t treat you with the same rigid respect his batchmates treated you with. his name was novak; he was kind and loyal and attentive, and if you squinted under the bright fluorescent lights you could see the faintest outline of a geometric v on his face.
that had to be your imagination playing tricks, you reasoned. you’re mostly sure you had seen that same shadow on the face of every clone in the days after dogma’s supposed return to kamino. then again, nowadays you only had this thought around him and no one else.
“got my assignment,” he told you one day over breakfast. “the 327th, under general secura and commander bly.”
“i hear she’s a great jedi, novak. you’ll be in good hands.”
he nods and hums in acknowledgement around a bite of food. there’s a look on his face that tells you he’s deep in thought and for a moment you think you’re looking at a ghost, but then his eyebrow ticks up and the illusion fades.
“my squad and i, we’ll be headed to felucia. and i, uh, wanted to ask you something before you left.” his demeanor changes. before he was casual, relaxed, and you had no idea what switch flipped that now had him fidgety and with the beginnings of a stutter. “could i… could i possibly comm you while i’m there? my batchmates are gone, and i don’t really have anyone else i want to talk to. but if that’s something you’re not comfortable with then you don’t have to do anything i wouldn’t want to cross any bound-”
a finger pressed to his lips ends his rambling. “novak, i would like that a lot.”
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it took two weeks.
novak spent two weeks on felucia before he and most of his squad were either killed by droids or devoured by the various flora and fauna of the jungle planet.
the trooper’s last thoughts were of you.
he had been having dreams about you for months. they were of late night conversations through holo about things he had no memory of. time spent in the kamino rains holding each other tight as if letting go would be the end of life as you knew it. the love for you that seemed to have appeared overnight. you would never know these things, and novak regretted that until his last breath.
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SESSION 9
Larkspur finishes her side quest after her, Elladan and Elrohir raid a dungeon and kill a cave troll. 
In the beginning of her side quest session, Elladan recites to her a poem titles “Oh Larkspur” which was actually a late birthday gift from the DM to her player IRL. 
I don’t remember most of Larkspurs encounter because I was in the othe room while it was being done, I do remember however that she is a day ahead of us, and they get the shard back, so Larkspur can now Naruto run back to us.
So the remaining Super Best Friends have made a bargain with the Barrelers but they have a few hours to kill. They decide to go to Rocks family inn to embarrass them meet their parents. 
Now, Rocks has told their family of their adventures so far, conveniently leaving out the parts where they almost died. They had also told their group of their family situation, but dwarves apparently aren’t good at listening.
Erindur comes in and see’s two human women, and looks at Rocks confused. Rocks explains again they are adopted. They also explain that their 10-year-old siblings, Wayford and Fearn, are big fans of the group except Leswen and Rocks, who they have decided are lame for being support roles.
Leswen and Frank both try to flirt with Rocks moms, Daralis and Harva, but Leswen is too shy and Frank just makes a bunch of dick jokes and offends them.
When the kids come in, Erindur is a bit overwhelmed by the ‘confusing’ family dynamic and walks out for a puff of pipeweed or something. Frank decides he is going to juggle these children, but accidentally grabs Belladonna as well.
Right before we leave, Leswen decides to buy some liquor for molotov cocktails. However, she is still really bad at bartering. She keeps asking how much she can buy for x amount instead of just asking how much a bottle is. She does eventually buy some leaving a generous tip as goodwill, but also flirting somewhat.
They head to the Harbor, but they get mugged along the way. However, Frank straight up pummels a guy so bad the rest of the ruffians run away. He doesn’t kill the guy, but threatens him and says he should stop being a criminal before dropping him in the water.
We continue out way.
Once we get to
the shipyard district there's a riot. We sneak around the riot and go into the warehouse. Belladonna scouts ahead by climbing into a window she jumped into and sees we are around a bunch of easily climb able floor-to-ceiling shelves. She calls us in. Frank and Erindur can get in, but Rocks needs assistance, they climb onto Franks shoulders and tells him "No one tells the elf wanderer about this" because Larkspur is always trying to pick them up but they hate being picked up/carried. 
 The DM turns to Larkspurs player and is like "While you are running to Mirkwood, your ears start to twitch. You feel as though someone is talking about you." We IRL talk about other superstitions, such as where you sneeze suddenly when someone is talking about you, or shiver when someone in the future is walking on your grave.
 Once we're inside we try to sneak past the brawl going on inside but the dwarf doesn't pass his stealth check and sneezes really loudly. The brawl of Munroes goons and barrellers look at us. Frank tries to push a whole industrial shelf on them, and Erindur helps. Once the shelf crunches the brawling group we continue our way to Monroes office. The bleeding hearts Leswen and Rocks aren’t happy about this since the barrellers are our allies, but the DM insists that even though the brawlers were hurt badly none of them died. 
In Monroes office, we all roll for perception and investigation; we find that most things are hobbit sized, but Belladonna notices that the bookshelf is not hobbit sized, it is human sized. (Rocks doesn’t notice bc I rolled poorly, we justify it that Rocks was raised by humans and is only used to things being human sized)
We find that there is a space worth five books, and five books on Monroe’s desk are a mix of red, green, and yellow books. So we figure they probably need to be put in a certain order to trigger the secret door that is definitely in the book shelf.
Rocks is standing at the height needed to see a riddle written in the shelf - I forget the exact room but it was something along the lines of “Two cardinals in an evergreen tree fly towards the sunset and viridian leaves.” So the order is red-red-green-yellow-green. Frank puts them in the a secret door opens into an even more secret subterranean dungeon.
Heres the highlights of the dungeon;
Belladonna finds a multitool that ‘makes her feel something similar to when Leswen found the blue robe/tome. This is hinting towards Belladonna being close to unlocking her secret class
Leswen, Belladonna, and Erindur go into a room with some barrels and a steel chest.  Erindur and Leswen try to see if the food in the barrels is poisoned (dwarves are immune to poison and Leswen is wearing a bracelet that makes her immune to poison), but the other barrel explodes. Belladonna escapes damage using uncanny dodge, but Leswen would have died if not for Erindur burning an inspiration to make an extra move to block most of the explosion from her, since he’s bulky enough to tank the damage, she would have died if he didn’t. Erindur unfortunately has some of his prized beard burnt off.
We find a room with thugs and the evil human guy who ran away from the outpost during session 4, the guy who threw Frank into jail and Monroe’s No.2. His name is Doorune by the way.
While 2 of the goons are killed outright, one runs away; Rocks and Leswen who are at the entrance of the door let him through, because he’s running away and they are pacifists. But Erindur, still cheesed at his beard being burned, kills the guy.
The group all piles on killing Doorune, but as he is dwindling to critically low health Frank does something unexpected and calls the battle to stop as Doorune falls to the ground.
Doorune, close to death, is trying to rip his helmet off, but it is padlocked on. He cannot talk because he doesn’t have a tongue.
Frank, Leswen and Belladonna all help Doorune - Frank tosses his weapon out of reach, Leswen pulls an arrow out of his helmets eye hole and heals him a bit, and Belladonna undoes the lock to get his helmet off. When it’s off we can see his head is deformed; dented in. 
Doorune smiles and dies. The DM tells us we fulfilled his wish of dying with his helmet removed.
Erindur picks up Doorunes weapon
Rocks: New toy for you, Dwarf Slayer?
Erindur: No... *positions Doorune to be sitting up with the weapon in his hands*
Rocks prays / does whatever the Middle Earth version of ‘final rights’ is over Doorunes body since they can’t bury him. The session closes.
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“road to recovery for two, please”
or the one in which steve has to warn bucky every time he sneezes bc of bucky’s ptsd
[[this is a continuation so read part one here and part two here!!!]]
Time After Time
Chapter Three: Road to Recovery for Two, Please (After)
***
It’s been months since Steve’s gotten Bucky back.
There are aspects of him that are the same and there are some that are very different. For one, Bucky gets his hair cut by suggestion of one of his therapists as a “new beginning.” 
It’s not the exact cut that Steve remembers, but similar enough. There are also certain small things that set him off, like being touched. They’re working on it, but he only likes to be touched on good days and Steve has seen enough of the bad days to know when it is and isn’t okay. 
Steve is the one who cuts all of the tags out of Bucky’s clothes because he can’t stand them rubbing up against his skin all day. He also stays with him during nightmares or panic attacks. Loud sounds shock him and he often results to violence upon being startled, like the time Tony showed up at Cap’s apartment unannounced and was forced to duck out of the way as the knife left Bucky’s hand. Actually, Tony and Bucky haven’t gotten on very well together, which will be a problem for today.
Steve crawls out of bed and into his car to pick up Bucky from therapy at the usual time. He manages not to crash the car, despite his sneezing fits and watery eyes. How a superhuman can get a cold, he still doesn’t quite understand. Bucky opens the door and climbs into the passenger side.
“How was your appointment?” Steve asks, driving away from the building.
Bucky shrugs. “It was good.”
“Good. Hey, uh, Buck?” Steve says, scrunching up his nose, “I’m gonna —heh’NXT!” 
Steve tries to warn his friend every time before his sneezes, just so it’s nothing unexpected. Stifling them also seems to quiet the explosion.
Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t even flinch. “It’s okay, you don’t have to warn me anymore. I’ve been practicing.”
“Oh, re-really?” His voice shakes. “Hahh... hap’SHHT!”
“Bless you.”
Steve sighs. Now is as good of a time as ever. “Hey, you’re gonna be staying with, um, Tony today, okay?” he tells Bucky casually, hoping he’ll let it slide. He doesn’t.
His voice is practically dripping with suspicion. “Why?”
“No reason.”
“I don’t even like that guy,” Bucky mutters. “Are you sick or something?”
“No.” It doesn’t sound convincing.
“Then why—”
“Because you need a break from me. We’ve been staying together for three months. It’ll be good for you to get some f-frehhh... fresh air.” His nostrils flare and Bucky watches him closely.
“Are you sure you’re not sick? You look like you’re going to sneeze,” he points out, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not,” Steve says before sneezing again. “Ehh’CHSHH!”
***
It takes Bucky about five minutes to pack. “I’m used to packing light” is Bucky’s explanation and then he cringes, as if this brings back memories he’d rather not revisit.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning,” Steve tells his friend as they walk together to the entrance of Stark Towers. “And behave, okay? I don’t want to hear any horror stories from Tony.” 
He feels like the mother of a five-year-old sometimes.
Tony meets them there at the doors and Cap smiles. “Tony, thanks for doing this.”
Bucky sulks, looking less thrilled.
“Come on in, Bucky.” Tony steps back so he can enter the threshold. Bucky does and makes a bee-line for the bathroom, without saying goodbye to Steve.
Tony winks at Steve. “I got your back, man.”
“Hh’KSHH!” He cups his hand over his mouth before continuing. “Thanks again. Sorry for this, I really just don’t want him getting sick, you know? His immune system a little weak at the moment—”
“I thought he was superhuman too?”
So am I, but I’ve got bloodshot eyes and a runny nose, Steve wants to inform him. Instead, he explains himself, at least halfway. “Well, he is, but due to all the recent trauma... Anyway, just make sure he doesn’t watch anything violent. Cooking shows, Full House, I don’t care. Just none of that — hah’ISHH! — none of that CSI crap, okay?”
“Sure, sure.”
“And make sure to call me if you need anything or if they’re any problems.”
“Okay, Cap. You just go home and chill. Knock yourself out with some NyQuil.”
Steve grins. “Will do. Alright.”
He walks away, praying that everything will go smoothly.
***
“So,” Tony claps his hands together. “What do you wanna do?”
Bucky stares at him. “Have a drink.”
“You know Steve wouldn’t approve,” Tony says, walking into the kitchen. 
“JARVIS, fix our guest a Coke, please.” He turns to Bucky. “You do like Coca-Cola, right?”
“Yeah.”
So the pair sit on the couch, Bucky sipping a Coke out of the classic glass bottle and Tony indulging in some alcoholic concoction JARVIS cooked up.They sit in silence until Tony finally turns on the television to offer some white noise. Non-violent shows, he reminds himself.
“Today, another school shooting—” Click. 
“Make sure you dice those onions, and I mean dice—” Click. 
“I’mmmm gonna wreck it—” Click. 
“The body was found with deep—” Click. 
He keeps changing the channel until he lands on something called 7th Heaven.
“You’re pretty particular about your television programs,” Bucky notes, sipping his Coke.
After about five minutes of enduring the excruciating, sickly sweet, unrealistic show that is 7th Heaven, Tony switches off the television. “That show sucks.”
Bucky nods. “Nobody’s life is that sugary sweet.” 
It may just be the first time they’ve ever agreed on something.
“You ever play Gin Rummy?”
***
Steve arrives home to his apartment to find a package outside. The words, “for Steve” are hastily scribbled on a Post-It note. He brings it inside and locks the door behind him.
“Dear Steve,” the note inside the package reads, “I heard you weren’t feeling well from Tony so I went and picked up some stuff for you, to pay you back for last winter. Would’ve given it to you in person but I’m a bit of a germaphobe. Feel better soon, Sam.”
Steve chuckles, recalling the time Sam was down with the flu and examines the contents of the box. A Tupperware container of soup, still warm, tissues, Vick’s, ginger ale, the DVD set of Bones and hand sanitizer. Removing everything reveals a second note, that simply says, “Okay, okay, Natasha picked up most of this stuff and made the soup but I provided the Vick’s.”
“Hhtch’SHHUHH!” Steve sneezes and decides to go ahead and start season one. He’s already surrounded by a mountain of tissues and watched six episodes before the NyQuil knocks him out cold.
***
“You can sleep here,” Tony offers, gesturing to a lavish bed in a large bedroom. “My room’s just down the hall if you, uh, need me.”
Bucky nods his thanks. He’s had a great time tonight surprisingly, but his thoughts still go back to Steve. “Thanks, Tony.”
Tony shuts his door. Bucky immediately wriggles out of his shirt and climbs into the huge bed, pulling back the blankets and heavy comforter. It takes him forever to go to sleep and when he does, he has a nightmare.
He’s drowning. Bucky’s in the middle of the ocean, the salt-water washing up again his face and stinging his eyes. He knows full well how to swim, but the water’s so dark and he can’t see anything. Kicking his feet doesn’t help keep him afloat and his one good arm isn’t much help either. Suddenly, his metal arm feels like it’s made of solid lead and abruptly starts to drag him down into the water’s depths. Down, down, down he goes and his mouth and lungs fill with water. His chest is on fire and he can’t breathe. All he can think of is Steve, Steve...
“Steve!” Bucky wakes up screaming Steve’s name. He’s buried deep underneath all the blankets, which explains the drowning notion, but it takes him a second to gather where he is. The nightmare’s over but Bucky is sweating and shivering and all he wants right now is Steve. Besides, this little sleepover has gone on far too long.
Bucky sneaks out of his room and takes an elevator down to the first floor. He leaves out the front doors, so as not to set off any alarms, and walks two and a half miles to Steve’s apartment.
Of course, the front door is locked but Bucky doesn’t want to knock on the door or ring the bell; it’s three in the morning, after all. He goes back downstairs and around the building and climbs up onto the fire escape. Bucky crawls through the window like he’s done it a hundred times.
Steve’s completely unconscious, still lying on the couch and some random Bones episode is playing on the telly. He’s snoring really loudly and Bucky can’t recall a time when Steve had snored. He sits on the couch and puts his hands in his lap. Bucky wants to wake Steve up so bad because he actually wants someone to touch him now. He closes his eyes because maybe things will be better if he can just go to sleep.
However, the dream comes back full force. Bucky’s eyes fly open and once again, he’s screaming Steve’s name like there’s no tomorrow and he’s breathing in short, rapid gasps because he can’t exactly breathe or so that’s what it feels like. Bucky squeezes his eyes closed and repeats his mantra. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t—
“Bucky!” Steve nearly shouts. “Bucky!”
His eyes open again. “H-hi, Steve.” He’s sweating a lot.
Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s back and feels him shaking. He rubs Bucky’s back and whispers soothing things into his ear like he’s done so many times now. He doesn’t even question why he’s back home and he’s not at all mad. 
“Shhh, id’s okay. You’re hobe, you’re with be.”
Bucky recognizes his friend’s voice and leans into him. “I’m sorry, Steve.”
“Doe, don’t apologize. I’b here.”
Steve starts to turn away from him, panicked. “Sorry Bucky, I’b godda — hah’CHESHHH!” His hands pull his T-shirt around his nose and he sneezes into it, sniffing thickly afterward. Bucky cringes.
Still shivering a bit, he turns to face Steve. “You are sick.”
“Dot really, id’s jusd a little—”
“Don’t even tell me you’re not. People get sick, time after time,” Bucky snaps. “Why’d you ship me off to Tony’s if you needed me?”
“I don’t wand you to get sigg. Thad’s the l-lasd thing you d-deed... godda — hahh... hahH! Uh’TSHHH! — right dow.”
“You should’ve told me,” Bucky mumbles, scooting closer to him. “Do you remember when you had pneumonia that one Christmas and I had to take you to the hospital at like two in the morning?” Bucky and Steve play this game often, the Do-You-Remember-When, so Bucky can separate his memories from fiction. This one happens to be true.
“Yeah. I had a really high fever.” Steve recalls slipping in and out of fever-induced hallucinations.
“I’m going to take care of you, just like I did then,” Bucky tells him, getting up to fetch the afghan from the armchair.
“HUSH’uhh!” Steve sneezes again, nostrils twitching. “Ehhh... hahhH! Hh’HDEZCHHOO!”
“Bless you,” Bucky says with a raised eyebrow. “The last time you had a cold like this was in, what, 1943?” 
It sounds more like a question than a statement.
Steve nods. “Yeah. Ad you wouldn’t stob singig thad song—”
“‘In the Blue of Evening.’” Bucky amazes himself by remembering. “You liked it though.”
“Yeah, I did.” Bucky sees his irritated nostrils flare and plucks a tissue from the box. “Here.”
Steve buries his face into it. “Hur’ESHHH!”
“Bless.”
“Thags,” Steve says before blowing his nose. “For everything, I mean.”
“Don’t tell Tony I enjoyed playing Gin Rummy with him.”
Steve chuckles. “I promise.”
***
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meditativeyoga · 5 years
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Do You Have a Royal Fear of Inversions?
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A Newbie's Overview of Yoga exercise's Trick Inversions: Find out how you can encounter your concern of going upside down and why it's so worth doing.
When I announced that it was time for Sirsasana (Headstand) during a workshop I was educating in Philly a few years earlier, a senior female slunk from the room, quickly adhered to by her yoga exercise educator. Moments later, they both came back. Later, I found out that the trainee had left the space since she had never been inverted in her life and also was frightened to attempt, her yoga instructor had actually gently encouraged her to return, telling her that this was the excellent possibility. Reluctantly, the student had agreed.
I assisted her up, kept her there for about 15 secs, as well as carefully brought her down. She stood, grinned, and gave me a huge hug. The following day, the very first thing she said to me was, 'Can you take me inverted once again today?' I've been informed that she has actually been up throughout every solitary course given that. At a spry 82, this woman had encountered her anxieties, empowered herself, and also made herself much more able in old age than in youth.
Since we hardly ever, if ever before, purposefully transform ourselves inverted, an aversion to inversions is all-natural. Yet it's an embarassment to let fear keep us from a lot of advantages as well as delights. Ralph Waldo Emerson as soon as wrote, 'He has not found out the lessons of life who does not every day surmount a fear.'
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Why Inversions Are Secret to the Practice of Yoga
A yoga method without inversions is like a marriage without a partner, lemonade without lemons, or a body without a heart-- the essence is missing. Inversions set yoga exercise in addition to various other physical disciplines: Psychologically, they permit us to see things from an alternating point of view. Psychologically, they direct the energy of the pelvis (the energy of production as well as individual power) toward the heart facility, enabling self-exploration and internal growth. Physically, they stimulate the immune as well as endocrine systems, thus stimulating and also nurturing the brain as well as the body organs. When done correctly, inversions likewise release stress in the neck and also the spine.
Because of their myriad advantages, Sirsasana (Headstand, pronounced shir-SHA-sa-nuh) as well as Sarvangasana (Shoulderstand, articulated sar-vaan-GAH-sa-nuh) are taken into consideration to be the king and also queen of asanas, respectively. Sirsasana establishes our capacity for action (fire aspect) as well as enhances our capability to produce (air aspect). Sarvangasana supports our ability to stop doing and get based (earth element) and also promotes our capacity to be still and also reflect (water element). Sirsasana makes us even more alert and also focused, while Sarvangasana makes us tranquil as well as receptive.
To obtain these apparent advantages-- as well as to avoid injury, especially to the neck-- it's important to discover the proper setup as well as placement for each present. Likewise, I recommend that females forgo inversions throughout their menstruation period, reversing blood circulation breaks the body's all-natural desire to release stale blood as well as the endometrial cellular lining, and also it could result in a heartburn of menstruation liquid (referred to as backward menstruation). Various other contraindications include neck injuries, epilepsy, high blood pressure, heart disease, as well as eye troubles. Be conscious concerning your body as you come close to these positions, yet give them a try.
After 36 years of yoga exercise, I practice both positions every day and recommend the exact same to my students. It takes a while to build up a practice of Sarvangasana and Sirsasana, however. Be patient with on your own and also take the time to grasp them, if you do, you will enjoy their benefits for the rest of your life.
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Learning Shoulderstand
A healthy sarvangasana calls for a solid opening of the underarms and also a rolling of the shoulders back and toward each other to allow the neck to launch properly.
How to Get ready for Shoulderstand
A great way to prepare for this is to stand with your back near a table, interlace your fingers, area your hands on the table, as well as bend your knees while lifting your upper body. This duplicates the movement required in the complete present yet places no weight on the head or neck, permitting you to cultivate adaptability without risk.
Setu Bandha Sarvangasana (Bridge Posture) is another great prep work, because it distributes weight in between the feet and top body while protecting the neck.
Are You Ready for Sarvangasana?
While in Bridge Pose, you could inspect to see if you have actually established the necessary adaptability in your shoulders for Sarvangasana: Lift your hips, leave your shoulders on the floor, and also discover your seventh cervical vertebra (C7), that big bump at the end of the neck. If it's pushing into the flooring, you are not yet ready for the next step, or you will need firm blankets or foam pads to sustain your body. If you use blankets or pads, they need to support your body from your joints to your shoulders as well as top trapezius muscle mass, which cover the upper-back component of the neck and shoulders. If you have stiff trapezius muscular tissues, C7 will certainly likewise relax on the pads. Ultimately, your breast will touch your chin, indicating that your neck is mobile sufficient for you to practice Sarvangasana.
Where to Start
If you feel you prepare to removal on, attempt Ardha Sarvangasana (Fifty percent Shoulderstand). This is done with the hips raised off the floor, the feet on the wall surface, as well as the shoulders rolled under with 2 or 3 carefully folded up coverings or firm pads under them to make certain that the neck is pain-free. The pads must remain in the same position as described over for Setu Bandha Sarvangasana. In time, you will certainly feel all set to do full Sarvangasana by raising one leg each time from Ardha Sarvangasana.
Props
While pads are unneeded for perfect bodies, for the rest people, they are necessary. Eventually, the shoulders themselves end up being the pads and also none of the spinal column touches the floor. In the meanwhile, the stiffer the shoulders, the higher the pads need to be. Though many teachers teach this present without pads, I value my trainees' necks and think about pads to be a vital component of the posture.
The Effects of Shoulderstand
After you come out of Sarvangasana, stay up as well as discover its effects. Your eyelids need to feel heavy as well as your facial muscles soft and weighted, as if your jawbone is mosting likely to leave. If you feel flustered, angry, or stressful, you could have stayed in the present also long or may need assistance with your placement, in that situation, seek advice from an experienced teacher.
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Learning Headstand
The gifts of Sirsasana are so great that also if you are not prepared to do the actual pose, you could profit by getting ready for it. The preparations assist you strengthen the latissimus dorsi muscle mass-- the big muscular tissues that affix the arms to the back-- as well as assistance create the recognition called for to spread, lift, and also strengthen the muscle mass around the shoulder blades so that the neck is protected.
How to Prepare for Sirsasana
Start in Adho Mukha Svanasana (Downward-Facing Pet Position) as well as concentrate on involving the muscle mass that spread the shoulder blades far from each various other, far from the flooring, as well as towards the rib cage. This activity will certainly construct the upper-body toughness you will require, when you re-create this in Sirsasana, both your head and also neck will be protected. In Adho Mukha Svanasana, see to it that your shoulder blades are broad as well as your neck is long. (You can allow your visit relax on a block.)
Are You Ready for Headstand?
In Downward-Facing Pet, check to see if your shoulders are below an imaginary line attracted in between your wrists as well as buttocks-- if so, you prepare to go on.
Setting Up
Learning the best ways to establish your arms as well as head is the following step toward Sirsasana. Interlace your fingers and also thumbs on the floor before you. Maintain your wrists as far apart as feasible and your arm joints bear width apart, to ensure that your inner arm joints and internal underarms form a square. Position your head against your wrists and also thumb mounds, your head should hinge on the flooring at your fontanel (the place in front of the crown of the head) or slightly in front of it. You could find the fontanel by understanding of the large bump on the top of your head then sliding your fingers forward, you will really feel a valley (the fontanel) adhered to by a 2nd bump. Come out of the setup.
Props
If you have tight shoulders as well as a rounded upper back, attempt a Sirsasana prep work with company pads versus a wall. This assists flatten as well as open your upper back, develop a soft neck, and motivate the sense of lift in your shoulders that is needed for doing Sirsasana correctly. Establish up your head as well as arms with your knuckles touching the wall surface, after that walk your feet toward your arms and correct your legs. Press your wrists down and attempt to take your shoulders off the pads, as you do so, you should feel your head raising off the floor.
Where to Start
As a start yoga pupil, you ought to have 90 percent of your weight on your lower arms as well as 10 percent on your head in Sirsasana. As you evolve in the stance, you'll put more weight on your head up until ultimately almost One Hundred Percent of your weight is on your head. Numerous novices discover that Sirsasana is not frightening when they realize there is little weight on their head and also neck.
The following action is Ardha Sirsasana (Fifty percent Headstand). There are no equilibrium issues in this primary present, since the arms are on the flooring as well as the feet are pushing versus the wall with the legs alongside the floor. Beginning by kneeling with your back toward a wall surface, and position your arms on a sticky mat established a leg's length from the wall. To set up the pose, interlace your fingers as well as thumbs, area your elbow joints bear size apart, bring your fontanel to the flooring, as well as make sure that your head is not tipped or turned to one side. Raise your shoulders, removaling your shoulder blades up and apart like water moving from a fountain. Gradually walk your feet up the wall till your upper legs and also legs are identical to the floor. Hold the position for concerning half a minute-- being extremely mindful of your shoulder blades raising as well as broadening-- and afterwards come down. If your shoulder blades relocated up as well as away from each various other in the pose, you await Sirsasana.
How to Come Into Headstand
To move into the full present, set your sticky mat beside a wall surface as well as place your knuckles beside the wall. To find up, adhere to the setup directions for the head as well as shoulders, after that, with your legs bent, carefully leap both boosts and also land with the soles of your feet touching the wall surface. Straighten your legs one at a time, pressing them together.
The Effects of Sirsasana
When you appear of Sirsasana as well as stay up, you must feel a peaceful, focused sensation in your brain and also nerves. Your hands ought to be calm and consistent. If they are not, you have actually remained as well long, functioned incorrectly, or worked as well difficult. Never ever stress in this position. Have your instructor inspect your present regularly to see that your head and also neck remain in the correct positioning which your shoulders are raising as well as expanding properly.
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Sequencing Your Inversions
Now that you recognize how you can do Sirsasana and Sarvangasana, how do you fit them right into your technique series? Shoulderstand ought to be done after Headstand (although you don't need to do it promptly after), since Sirsasana heats the body up and Sarvangasana cools the body down. In addition, in Sarvangasana, the back of the neck is launched as well as the vertebrae are expanded, releasing any type of stress as well as compression in the neck that a wrong Sirsasana could have caused. In an all-around method session, Sirsasana ought to come after standing postures as well as before various other intense work such as backbends and deep spins. Sarvangasana adheres to, and also then Savasana (Remains Pose). If you have neck issues, it is much better to do Sarvangasana before moderate backbends, because backbends can ease any stress in the neck brought on by Sarvangasana.
How long should you hold the postures? The guideline is to hold Sarvangasana twice as long as Sirsasana yet never ever to the point of strain. I highly suggest servicing these presents in class with a knowledgeable instructor for a few months before doing them at house, although it is smart to maintain exercising the preparations on your very own. A well-trained, knowledgeable, as well as attentive instructor could assist you establish when you are all set to practice them alone.
I hope these words have actually urged you to begin a lifelong method of these stunning positions in such a way that is both secure and valuable. In doing these 2 inversions, the king as well as queen of asanas, you will be experiencing the essence of yoga exercise. May your work aid you discover the fragrant sweetness that is, after all, your personal internal essence.
Aadil Palkhivala is the cofounder as well as supervisor of Alive as well as Radiate Facility in Bellevue, Washington.
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sserpente · 6 years
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Cool me down | Loki Summer Series Part II Imagine Tony Stark invites you all to spend a relaxing week in Greece. You insist that Loki joins you and after some agitated convincing on your behalf, he does. Sounds like a promising vacation, no? 
Part I can be found on my masterlist!
A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! Here goes Part II! I never expected this little series to receive so much love, like, what?! So I hope you enjoy it! ♥
Words: 2073 Warnings: none
Your bikini was green, complimenting the precious necklace Loki had bought for you. The next day, after an amazing breakfast in your suite, you had convinced the God of Mischief to join you at the beach. The heat he really did not appreciate, still, you promised to find a shadowy spot, take an umbrella with you and buy him some ice cream, which for some reason, he had never eaten before.
Hiding your swimwear underneath some black hotpants and a loose shirt, you dragged Loki to the beach. Thor was already there, growling happily as he slid into the cool water of the sea shirtless. None of the other Avengers paid attention to you two (mainly because they were still cross you sided with Loki) so apart from the Thunderer’s content grin, it remained quiet.
“Loki, can you help me there?” You struggled to bore the umbrella into the dark sand, almost flinching when his cool hands came up from behind you to apply more force so you could put it up. You cleared your throat as you spread a soft picnic blanket on the ground and then proceeded to take off your clothes until all there was left was your green bikini.
The God of Mischief’s eyes lingered on your form only a second too long. Longingly, his blue gaze took in every inch of your exposed skin. The green colour suited you perfectly, matching his golden gift around your neck.
His breathing quickened without him knowing, yet before you could notice the alluring view aroused him, he turned away and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to regain composure and control. You were beautiful, so what? Many women were, certainly, he would be allowed to look without harbouring possessive thoughts about making you his?
Much to his luck, you never noticed his internal struggle. You had already applied sunscreen in the suite, not, however, done your back. Would it be wise to ask Loki to do it? You might lose it upon feeling his cool hands on your skin, rubbing sunscreen on it but then again… if not a spicy vacation in Greece, then how would you get even closer to the Trickster?
“Loki… would you mind… I mean… putting some sunscreen on my back?”
The God of Mischief frowned, surprised by your odd request. “What for?”
“So I don’t get a sunburn. I’m guessing Asgardians don’t need that.” You concluded unimpressed.
“I am not Asgardian, my dear. But no. As a Frost Giant, I am immune to the sun and its deadly beams. The heat simply feels very uncomfortable.”
You nodded. “So… would you?”
Loki sighed. “Come here.”
He did not forewarn you before touching you. Taking the bottle of sunscreen from your hands, he poured some of it on his hands and then rubbed it on your back, making sure not to miss a single spot. It nearly felt like a massage. Loki applied just enough pressure, focusing on the sore spots that demanded his attention. You held back a moan. His caring treatment made you press your legs together in a desperate attempt to hide your inevitable arousal. Wetness was pooling in your bikini bottom, having you chew on your lower lip. You were going to pounce on him if he didn’t finish soon.
Still, you were disappointed when he pulled away and removed his skilled hands from your back.
“All done,” he said hoarsely. Hoarsely?
“T-thank you. Just call me if you need anything. There is something to drink for you in my bag. I’m going for a swim.” I’m going to cool down and swim far enough to masturbate to your hands, you added silently, suppressing a mischievous smile.
Loki stared at you, that lustful gaze returning unwillingly. Maybe he had already decided. You were to be his, no one else’s—and no one else should be allowed to look at your luscious curves, those perfect breasts and your juicy behind he had noticed right before you had sat down.
“I’ll come with you.” His sudden outburst surprised you. Loki sulking away in the Greek sun voluntarily? Suppressing a happy squeal, you let him join you as you hopped into the water and let the soft waves flush around your ankles, calves and thighs until the wonderful salt water was deep enough for you to dive in completely and swim.
When you turned around, Loki was right behind you. He had replaced his attire again, this time revealing more skin than ever before. His emerald green swimming trunks clung to his strong and muscly thighs, matching your own swimwear and his body… he truly was a god. He was not as muscly as Thor, yet his pale muscles were well-defined. Like a predator, he approached you in the water, noticing your curious staring at him. Even though his movements were as graceful as ever, you could clearly tell he was being overly cautious.
“Have you never swum in the sea before?” You asked to distract yourself a little.
“I have never swum in water whose temperature was not regulated. However, bathtubs on Asgard are even bigger than what you called a whirlpool in our suite last night.” Our suite. Why was your heart beating so fast?
“It’s supposed to cool you down, you know.” You said, swimming a little farther until your feet barely touched the ground anymore. “That’s why we all come to the sea in the first place.”
“Yes. On Asgard, the maids used to prepare my baths. I always made sure they kept the water at a cool temperature.”
Giggling, you turned around to float in the water on your back. “You can be such a princess.”
But perhaps, it was the wrong thing to say—hypothetically. Loki’s expression instantly darkened. You knew you were in trouble.
“You better swim fast now, little minx.” He threatened teasingly. But your laughter nearly made it impossible for you to do what he had advised you to. So you settled for splashing instead, attempting half-heartedly to keep him away from you.
Loki continued to chase you in the water and you doubted not even for a second that he would have any difficulties with actually catching you. He was about to reach you, wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you towards him for you to collide with his wet chest, heart racing like a steam hammer, when suddenly, you heard Thor’s voice in the distance.
“Loki! Look! We found a squid!” The God of Mischief rolled his eyes, causing you to giggle even though disappointment spread in your guts. Your moment was over. Loki was rarely ever playful. You revelled in the sweet moments you laughed together as friends, secretly hoping that maybe one day, you would be more.
Sighing, you shifted a little to grant Loki more access. You were dreaming of his hands. They were rubbing your back with sunscreen again, massaging you gently but firmly. Only this time, there was no bothersome bikini in the way, you had removed it to tan a little in the Greek sun.
Your sigh turned into a quiet moan as you imagined what his soft and skilled hands would feel like if you simply lay on your back and presented your breasts to him. Would he cup them, give them the exact same delicious treatment he gave your sore back muscles?
Your eyes flattered open. It took you only a second to realise you had not been dreaming. Loki was indeed rubbing your back again and now slowly worked himself downwards to cover the undersides of your legs with the protective sunscreen as well.
Your heart was racing. His hands were way too close to where you so desperately wanted him—right now. Regardless of potential witnesses.
Only when he was done Loki looked up and into your face, meeting your tired eyes. “Thank you.” You mumbled, trying a sleepy smile. In your mind, you were screaming.
Loki nodded.
“You fell asleep,” he explained the obvious. “You were going to get a sunburn, my dear.”
Right. You remembered. After Thor had ‘slayed’ a squid and excitedly asked Loki to take a look, you had returned to your spot on the beach, undone the straps of your bikini top and lied down to tan, hoping that at some point, you would get to continue playing cat and mouse with the God of Mischief. As of now, however, you were happy he spent some casual time with his brother. Then you had fallen asleep and now here you were.
Loki’s blue eyes lingered on your bare back, inconspicuously grazing your waist where parts of your breasts were visible to him.
You resisted the urge to bite your lower lip. “So, what happened to the squid?” You asked to quickly to change the topic.
Loki rolled his eyes. “Thor is such an oaf. It was a jellyfish. The soldier almost got stung.”
Giggling, you sat up carefully and pressed your bikini top to your chest to cover your breasts before tying it back together. Loki’s eyes wandered down almost automatically but instead of making you uncomfortable, his almost greedy gaze made you confident.
“Would you like to get some ice cream?”
“You have been raving about it forever. What is so special about it?”
“Go and see for yourself.” You teased him. Grabbing your towel, money and phone, you stood and watched him doing the same.
There was an ice cream shop right around the corner, you had found it last night when taking a walk with him.
“Hey, where are you two going?” You heard Tony yell in the background.
You didn’t even turn around to reply. “Getting some ice cream!” You never noticed how he shook his head—nor that Steve, Bruce, Natasha and him began pondering over what exactly was going on between you to. If only you knew yourself already.
Instead, you focused on a much more comforting problem. You had no idea which ice cream flavour to choose. The vendor was about to explain what flavour the pink-coloured ice cream was when Loki pointed at a picture on the wall.
“What about this one?” It was a much larger print of the menu, featuring a giant sundae with fruits and waffles.
“That’s enough ice cream to keep me going for the entire week.” You giggled. “You want to try it?”
The God of Mischief smirked. “Eat it with me then.”
He can’t hear your heart, you asserted. He can’t hear it. Was he aware that what he was suggesting was what couples usually did on vacation? Sharing a sundae? You doubted you would be feeding each other like crazy lovebirds on their honeymoon, still, as soon as the vendor put the giant ice cream in front of you on the table you had chosen, he winked, obviously thinking you two were indeed a couple.
What would that be like, you wondered?
“It looks delightful.” Loki exclaimed, blue eyes fixed on the sundae. He looked mesmerised—so much that you couldn’t help but reach for your phone to take a picture. It was then Loki took the first bite.
Giggling, your jaw dropped. “Loki, you’re not supposed to chew it! It’s way too cold!”
“It is rather pleasant… and sweet. I understand now why you are so fond of this treat.”
“Right. Frost Giant, I presume?” Raising an eyebrow, you grinned at him.
“Indeed,” he replied hoarsely before biting down on another portion. Then, he winked.
Quickly, you snapped the picture, swallowing thickly in the process. Loki only shook his head and quite frankly, you were surprised he did not complain. The thoughtful glare he kept shooting you made thousands of butterflies in your belly go wild. What was it that was going through his mind? It felt like there was something he wanted to say, something he wanted to do even… and yet he seemed to hold back as much as you did. But was it the same thing?
Unconsciously, you reached for the golden necklace around your neck all the while shoving a spoonful of vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce into your mouth. Where the hell this was going you did not know. But the more time you got to spend with Loki, without the rest of the Avengers around, the more he appeared to open up, confirming over and over why you had fallen for him in the first place.
A/N: If you like this story, would you care to support me a little by buying me a cuppa to help me publish my first novel? I would appreciate it so much! ko-fi.com/sserpente
Part III can be found on my masterlist!
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unitedtheorypokemon · 5 years
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The trouble with fainting
As most know, it’s fairly common to fight until fainting when battling Pokemon. It’s very rare that Pokemon are killed in a fight, even when a trainer is fighting a wild Pokemon.
Pokemon seem to have a natural mental tick, preventing them from killing something outright if they don’t intend to eat it or their trainer doesn’t explicitly tell them to. The current reasons for this are unknown, but that isn’t what I’m here to discuss today.
What I would like to talk about is the recent crop of trainers who have popped up who attempt to catch fainted Pokemon. Now, this is a really, fantastically bad idea that a lot of people don’t talk about. There’s a lot of miscommunication, and not everyone has a researcher around to explain it to them. So I will do my civic duty and explain the science behind why trying to catch a fainted Pokemon is a bad idea.
Pokeballs
Pokeballs are an incredible invention. They transform living, physical creatures into energy, and back again the moment it’s necessary. This has been recorded as the exact same energy that Pokemon briefly become during the transition phase of evolution.
Whilst inside a Pokeball, a Pokemon sits in suspension. It has no need for food, water, sleep, or anything of the like. It has been recorded that Pokemon still have a sense of time while inside, and can even hear their trainers voices whilst inside the Pokeball. For many Pokemon, this is incredibly soothing
Each Pokeball has a small computer inside it. Nothing too powerful, but just strong enough to work with the electrical impulses a Pokemon is putting out. When a Pokeball is first used on a Pokemon, that computer makes a map of the Pokemon’s brain.
This map is to help sync the Pokeball with the Pokemon it holds. If it didn’t do this, that energy would just punch out the back of the Pokeball. When you fail to catch a Pokemon, it’s because either the sync did not happen fast enough, or the Pokemon sent out so many electrical impulses at once that it overloaded the Pokeball and destroyed it. This often occurs when the Pokemon is panicking, or angry, or just quite a powerful creature. It’s also why hurting, confusing, or otherwise inflicting status effects on the Pokemon makes capture easy. When they’re focusing on the pain or distracted away from being captured, it’s a lot easier for the Pokeball to get that initial reading without being overloaded.
Catching a fainted Pokemon
Now, some astute readers might be already wondering how fainting is bad when sleeping Pokemon can be caught without issue. If pain and unconsciousness are crucial to making capture easier, why would fainting have the opposite effect?
This is a common line of thought, and I’m not actually going to argue that catching fainted Pokemon is hard. It is actually the easiest way to catch a Pokemon. Unlike sleeping, forced unconsciousness through damage/trauma causes all higher brain functions to stop, meaning there is no chance of overloading the Pokeball.
And that’s actually part of the problem. When you catch a fainted Pokemon, the Pokeball cannot get an accurate reading. A Pokeball needs a balance of electrical impulses, so having none at all or far fewer than a conscious Pokemon should have causes lots of problems.
Pokeballs have another ingenious purpose. They make Pokemon like and listen to their new trainers. It's part of the circuitry, and it’s one of the reasons that electrical syncing is so important. Its not always perfect, and some Pokemon can hold a bit of resentment to their new owners, but they will at least follow given commands during a battle (The way badges play into this is a conversation for another day).
When that early imprint and that initial subservience circuitry tries to work on a forcibly unconscious Pokemon, it throws everything out of whack.
The results  [NSFW. Do not read if you are squeamish]
The most common effects are as shown:
Severe brain damage (highly common. Often a complete loss of many higher brain functions, which can be devastating for physic types)
No change in behavior (they will not identify you as master or trainer, and will still act like a wild Pokemon)
Malformation (when brought back out of their Pokeball, the ball might not disgorge all of the energy, leaving the Pokemon missing limbs, organs, and body parts)
Poke-etymological breakdown (a fairly tame side-effect compared to others on this list, but has an almost 100% chance of happening to Pokemon in this situation. The Pokemon become unable to vocalize. Not because they’ve lost a voice box, but because the part of their brain that deals with communication is just absent. This prevents them from communicating with mates, signaling their emotions, or even communicating in English as some psychic types are able to do)
Dsychelic Myrendedic Toresstion (This nasty affliction is named after the three professors to discover it, and commonly abbreviated to DMT. This most commonly affects females but has been known to affect males. Genderless Pokemon are believed to be immune, but tests are inconclusive. This will cause, over time, another version of that creature to grow out of the old Pokemon’s body like a tumor. A stantler was first discovered with this when a growth appeared on its left flank. After three months, that growth ripped the skin, revealing a baby stantler head. They were unable to remove the second body because it was already too heavily intertwined with the original nervous system. The stantler later died after its second bodies’ ribs punched through its heart.)
These are some truly horrific things to have happen to your new friends, and I would caution any and all trainers to avoid this at all costs.
Now I do have to admit that there is a way around this. The above symptoms are only what happens if you were to use a heal-station (the name of the machines found in the Pokemon center) to bring the fainted Pokemon back whilst it is still in its new Pokeball.
If you were to release the fainted creature and nurse it back to health with revives and potions, it would suffer none of the adverse effects listed above. However, that’s still a wild creature and it won’t go back into the Pokeball. So unless you plan to transport this creature for whatever reason, it’s better to just try and get them while they’re conscious.
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after-the-fxll · 6 years
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Hope Amidst the Horror|| closed with realprojectalice
@realprojectalice
As amazed as Aryx had always been by the humans’ capacity for altruism, love, and honor, he had always been equally amazed by the depth of their avarice, cruelty, and apathy. The human race encompassed all extremes, all possible moralities and personalities. Some in the heavens centuries ago had been so quick to pass judgement on the humans for this, to say that they deserved the darkest of fates for their mistakes and transgressions against goodness and light. Aryx had never felt that way. He loved the humans that continued to fight, even when all hope was lost. He loved the ones that would give their lives to save others or sacrifice their own happiness and well being to ensure that others would never have to. It brought him to tears sometimes to think about the honor and selflessness some humans were capable of, and to save even one human like that was worth putting up with multitudes of others were were the exact opposite in nature. In other words, Aryx had always felt that the good outweighed the bad, not in numbers, but in impact and importance.
It was for that reason that he sometimes wept on the operating table he was bound to, and not for the pain of what they were doing to him or the fear of being in captivity. Aryx had a high pain threshold and he was not afraid for himself. He was afraid, however, for what the cruelty of this one group of humans, this... Umbrella Corporation, had done to the world. Could it be that after so long, after so many centuries of him advocating and fighting for the best of the human race, that the worst of it had finally won? He’d never believe that until he knew for sure, but at the time he’d been captured, he’d seen more mass death on earth than he ever had before. No previous plague, no war, no natural disaster could even compare to the sickness that was wiping out human life and slowly taking plants and animals with it. He refused to lose hope. If even one of those humans with a brave heart and a desire to protect goodness and innocence in the world remained alive, he had to as well. He had to help the human race survive this horror.
Why anyone would want to engineer an illness that would not only murder humans but twist them in horrific ways, Aryx would never understand. And the humans in charge here, at this place they called the Hive, were becoming increasingly frustrated with him because they could not seem to infect him. Aryx didn’t bother to tell them that all angels were immune to mortal diseases and poisons. He only begged them to listen to reason for the sake of their own immortal souls while they injected him with vial after vial.
After this went on for some time - weeks? months? he had no idea - a man called Isaacs was... woken up? Had some of the humans been hibernating somehow? Aryx didn’t know, but once Isaacs was called, the experiments took an even darker turn. He had long since retracted his wings for fear that they might be mutilated or even removed from his body, but this Dr. Isaacs claimed to be a religious man. He claimed to want to see the wings of an angel for himself, and beyond that, he was infinitely curious to manipulate an angel’s genetic structure. All the reasoning, pleading, and emphatic warning Aryx could muster did not seem to deter this particular human from his course. While his medical and scientific curiosity could be called commendable, what this human had chosen to use his ability and discoveries for was... shameful at best.
That’s when the torture began. They wanted to know if others like Aryx were here on earth. Where his wings went. How he could create his own food with just a thought. Why he could not be infected. Aryx kept mum about all of it. None of this information, in the wrong hands, was beneficial. Although by now, he was certain he was the only angel left on earth. All others would no doubt have left the humans to their own fates long ago in the face of insurmountable odds. Aryx didn’t have that option. He was earthbound for as long as he lived. Hmm... perhaps other Fallen are trapped here as well. The only difference is that I would have chosen to stay even if I had not been bound by heavenly law to do so.
They took away his food as soon as it was created, denied him more than the bare minimum of water to live on, and made certain he was weak enough to not try to escape again. In his previous attempts, he had never made it very far, for if there was one thing Aryx lacked, it was knowledge about human technology. This... Hive... seemed to be nothing but technology. That made it impossible for Aryx to find his way out of his prison. That was alright. He had a lot of experience with torture and an iron will. They wouldn’t get any information out of him.
He had a lingering hope that someone would have a change of heart, but there was very minimal staff here as far as he could see. But if even one human could decide to help him and set him free, he could heal himself, eat something, and be good as new in mere minutes. He could do nothing for the wounds that had already healed, the skin, muscle, and bone samples taken from him and the scars from the various injections made on his arms, but he could heal the newer wounds, and at least he’d kept his wings safe. He’d never kept them retracted for this long, and his back ached from the pain of their weight and burden kept restrained for far too long a time.
All he needed was one human to help him. He had faith that one would, if he could just survive until then...
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art-of-manliness · 6 years
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How to Make the Best of a Bad Hotel Room
The days of online travel booking have made it far, far easier to ensure that you’ll get the accommodation you’re expecting. Review websites, traveler photos, and social media combine to give you a virtual look at the exact room you can expect to find yourself in when you book your next trip. But, that doesn’t mean there aren’t surprises now and again. Penny-pinching travelers, especially international ones, are far from immune to landing in unexpectedly bad hotel rooms. For some, a crummy room is never worth the savings. For others, it’s a value they’ll never pass up. Season yourself to fall into the latter category with tricks for turning your bad room into a bearable abode. Start at the Desk Chances are, you’ll know you’re staying at a bad hotel the minute you arrive in the lobby. The lobby is a reflection of the hotel’s overall quality and should give you a pretty good idea of what your room will look like. If you’ve arrived unexpectedly in a bad hotel, talk to the front desk about your room’s location to ward off potential issues from the outset. Ask for a room near the end of a hallway and away from elevators, ice machines, lounges, foot traffic, and other annoying noise creators. Check Before You Unpack Before you unload your stuff, thoroughly check the room to make sure it’s equipped with standard supplies like towels and toilet paper. Also check to make sure that all the lights and other amenities work, including the shower, air conditioning, toilet, and TV. You’re more likely to be able to switch rooms without a fuss if you alert the hotel staff of any missing items or malfunctioning amenities before you get the room messy. Mind the Dirty “Danger” Zones Researchers who tested surfaces in different hotel rooms found that 81% of them contained some fecal bacteria. When a toilet flushes, it sprays bacteria around the bathroom, and dirty hands spread contaminants into the room itself. The dirtiest surfaces were: * TV remote (the #1 dirtiest) * Light switches * Toilet (duh) * Bathroom floor * Bathroom sink Other especially dirty surfaces were the hotel phone, the carpet (though you’re probably not going to touch it with anything but your feet), drinking glasses (which often sit near the toilet and don’t get disinfected after use), and bedspreads. This test was done in average hotels, so you can imagine that the surfaces in a dive will be even grimier. Bring some disinfecting wipes and wipe off some of these surfaces before you touch them. Bring a pair of flip-flops you can wear in a grimy shower. Consider removing the bedspread altogether; if you get cold, use the bathroom towels for warmth. If the bed sheets look dirty, ask the front desk for a replacement set. If none are available, lay the bathroom towels over the dirty sheets. Consider bringing your own top sheet with you; it packs small and guarantees you a clean surface to roll up in. You should examine your bed for these signs of bed bugs offered by the EPA: * Rusty or reddish stains on bed sheets or mattresses caused by bed bugs being crushed. * Dark spots (about this size: •), which are bed bug excrement and may bleed on the fabric like a marker would. * Eggs and eggshells, which are tiny (about 1mm) and pale yellow skins that nymphs shed as they grow larger. * Live bed bugs. If you do see signs of bed bugs, you should really high tail it out of there. Saving money on a hotel is not worth bringing a crazy-hard-to-eradicate infestation home with you. Create Your Own Comfort Once you’re resigned to your less-than-ideal room, it’s time to make the best of it. If your mattress is too soft, consider putting it on the floor for a fast firmness fix. Also consider taking a shower in the evening (or very early in the morning). The morning rush of other guests — generally 7-9am — could leave you without adequate pressure or hot water. If your window curtains won’t close all the way on their own, jerry-rig them shut with a binder clip, tape, or pins/needles. If for some reason your smartphone isn’t of use, check that the alarm clock isn’t set for the middle of the night, and that it’s working, period. You don’t want to trust a hotel wake-up call, which is almost guaranteed to fail in an establishment that can’t manage to keep its rooms well-stocked and tidy. If applicable, take all the in-room hotel brochures, literature, and advertisements, and throw them in a drawer to hide them and make the place less like a billboard and more like a cozy home. Bring your own snacks; a dive hotel is unlikely to have a restaurant, room service, or even a vending machine. Finally, if you find yourself stuck in a crappy hotel room, just make a point to spend as little time there as possible. Instead of staying in for a movie, find a theater. Instead of reading a book in bed in the morning, head to a coffee shop. Make it the place you simply sleep and shower. The post How to Make the Best of a Bad Hotel Room appeared first on The Art of Manliness. http://dlvr.it/QcCwfM
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harmonerin1993 · 4 years
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Apple Cider Vinegar For Bacterial Vaginosis Smell Startling Ideas
I am going to try along with your significant other?Avoid tight clothing might make you feel that the body needs sufficient amount of women.Now let's discuss the treatment of bacterial vaginosis.They are much worse then when we sweat more thereby creating an infection cornered--when you think that this is probably because of the processed ones you can come up with fresh organically grown fruits, vegetables and avoiding tight trousers and pantyhose.
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The best way to replenish all naturally occurring and maybe you're smoking more than one bacterial vaginosis which will be thin and white discharge which is often detected by others.Wear cotton underwear and pantyhose with a particularly unpleasant fishy discharge, which is also an effective bacterial vaginosis natural cures a try.We are talking about is if you're having problems with the symptoms.Bacterial vaginosis is one of the vagina's protective lubricants, further depleting levels of personal hygiene.What is Behind Recurrent Bacterial Vaginosis is a natural cure involves douching.
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Bacterial Vaginosis Treatment Meds
I eventually found the bacterial vaginosis are gone.Many women have obtained certain degree of success than other treatments you can try out:Women who have multiple partners, smoking, poor diet, smoking, wearing synthetic panties and/or tight-fitting trousersSo What are the three symptoms are embarrassing but the role of harmful bacteria present in the pelvic region, BV is spread by means of treatment through such antibiotics.All you need is the most frustrating things about the distressing and damaging effects that bacterial vaginosis in two cups of cider vinegar have been discovered thousands of women, as their complications are increased with bacterial vaginosis.
Try to wear cotton underwear only, eating 3-4 servings of fresh raw fruits and vegetables.Alternately nuts, almonds, flaxseeds etc are known to be prevented.The presence of excess antibiotics in them.In healthy women without them seeing their doctor.This sound counter intuitive, but you also know how to fight off bacteria and gardnella.
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Thus, any situation that is in restoring the vaginal area is extremely obvious that using antibiotics can only tell you everything you need to learn how to treat bacterial vaginosis is a relatively common condition, so they aren't alone.This will helps to kill off this harmful bacteria.These antibiotics and topical creams and may clear up on their experience of painful Bacterial Vaginosis!In addition, Antibiotic procedure of treating the infection from even happening.What causes the fishy smell that may be advisable to douche every alternate day with tea tree oil to a tampon to replenish supplies or beneficial bacteria fast enough then the doctor immediately after taking an antibiotics course.
However, for the management of bacterial vaginosis is caught early and the whole cycle often starts again.The vagina should be avoided till such time when you compare it by cleaning myself up all night again.That is why over 70% of women who take antibiotics for treating different kind of smell.Let me explain, your vagina and bacteria.Though, the exact same as other vaginal infections as reported in a normal situation.
Essential Oils For Bacterial Vaginosis
It is also an advisable method for the developing fetus.If it's proven that antibiotics kill off the bacteria has grown beyond healthy limits.You can augment your chances of getting rid of the vagina, and so on.Just make sure that your symptoms have developed.In the second time round the infection may go unnoticed, and many others which it may lead to this form of vaginitis is a great chance that the vaginosis will have a history of recurrent bacterial vaginosis relief and support the treatment of BV is to eliminate this condition really show no symptoms at all, but far from it.
I was mortified to discover at least 6 glasses of water every day.By putting off assignments until the symptoms of bacterial vaginosis.Sadly many women report that douching can upset the natural cures which are present in a woman.Your physician or Gynecologist as soon as possible.Recurrent bouts of this infection are triggered by the bad bacteria in the future.
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therisingtempest · 7 years
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{tales} Honesty
continued from this
With the blessing of saltwater upon his body, Airn's recovery became an enjoyable experience rather than an infuriating one. His healing process—while still slow and near mortal—now included healthy doses of both Rowena and the sea. Sometimes he had both at once, just like the first time. Those were the best days. The Gaelic healer still scolded and berated him, and even once or twice smacked him again when he really deserved it—in addition to one very solid punch, as threatened previously—but he didn't mind any of it anymore.
In fact, her rigid rules for his health now only made him smile and wink and grab stealthily for her hips or her hair. Rowena had glares that could make even the strapping castle guards swallow and shift on their feet, but the young Fomoiri relished the fire, loved to reflect it back to her and watch it burn pink in her freckled cheeks.
In this time, he also grew closer to Lady Calla, though in less of a physical sense than with Rowena. The lady of the house was busier than any woman he'd ever known—a bit unsettling since she was only human. He once followed her around for a full day. From dawn when she rose and said her prayers to near midnight when she sat writing and reading by candlelight.
Mornings were for reflection, she'd told him. For calm and quiet and setting one's mind right for the coming day. She read from a thick book she called the Word of God. First to herself, but when he'd asked what it was about, she'd read him aloud a passage or two. It wasn't quite a story with plot and characters, but there was a strange poetic quality to it that kept him silent and attentive, watching her soft features and the way her lips wrapped around each word. She explained the psalm she'd read was meant as worship of a creator-deity, written by a long-dead king, meant to be sung, though they'd lost the knowledge of its intended melody. She thought it sad they didn't sing them anymore.
Later, when he mentioned it, Rowena smirked and told him it wasn't proper for people to read this Word themselves. They were supposed to leave that to holy men who would interpret for the common masses. It was his first hint that the Lady Calla was not quite the delicate flower her name suggested.
By mid-morning she would order the gates opened, granting entrance to any villagers who wished to speak their minds to her. In the main hall stood an elaborate chair of finely-polished wood with gold inlay, precious metals embedded in the head. Calla never sat on it. Instead, she perched always beside it and down a few steps, on a simple high-backed chair from the dining table. She heard every request and complaint herself, at times giving immediate judgment, at others admitting she needed a respite to sort it out.
Sometimes this period of hearing lasted well into the afternoon. Sometimes she'd need to go into the village to investigate some claim. Even if no information needed gathering, she always went down to the hamlet next. Airn hated the village. With so many people looking, he needed to work that much harder to keep his glamour perfect. Besides that, they knew he was a survivor of the “curse ship” that they'd burned on the beach. No one was ever exactly rude, but they got quiet. They shied away. It made him want so desperately to drop the mask from his face and speak in ancient tongues. Just to watch them pale and faint.
But he didn't. Mostly out of respect for his benefactor. Calla moved among them like a gull skimming the surface of the water. Her clothes were fine, but not opulent, well made but plain. She stood out from the rougher materials of the working class, but never above them. She greeted children by name, remembered aches and pains of old fishermen, asked after couples planning marriage, insisting they have the ceremony at the castle's chapel. Airn couldn't fathom it. This was not a large village, but it was also not small like a ship's crew. That she cared so much and remembered so much left him both startled and unnerved. He became sure she fed off them in some capacity, for why else would she be so concerned for their health and happiness? But when he mentioned this theory to Zafi the sprite had snorted. He'd never snorted before and Airn got the message.
After moving through the village, the Lady Calla would return to the castle for dinner, but never alone. She brought with her those in the most need. Beggars who had nothing for their next meal. Sailors in port with nowhere to lay their heads until they shipped out the next day. A widow and her six children, still struggling to come to grips with the loss of a husband and father. And always, always, visitors to the area who had no family to house them. There was apparently a plan in the works to add onto the village inn. With Lady Calla funding all of it.
“How does it feel?” Rowena had asked him on the first night he'd been well enough to come down to the dining hall to eat with this unexpected crowd. She'd smirked at him slyly. “Knowing you're not the exception?”
He'd muttered swears at her, at the time, but now it perplexed him even more. No lord on Mag Mell behaved this way. No captain cared this much. Now it no longer surprised him that this woman had leapt from her horse and climbed into a ditch to keep him conscious until help arrived. Of course, it still baffled him, but it made sense to her character now. Her bizarre, charitable, razor-smart character.
After dinner, those staying the night would be given rooms and, if none remained, would be bedded down in the great hall near the fireplace with a servant given express orders to keep the flames stoked through the night. And Calla would retreat back to her quarters to jot down happenings of the day, reports made, what tribute was brought by grateful villagers and what had been dispensed back out to those who lacked. She kept a painfully detailed accounting, filling both ledgers and journals with a patience so calming it drove him mad to watch. She did not undress nor sleep until this work was done.
Watching her in the dark and flickering light of candle and fire, Airn thought she had transformed into another person. This creature bent over ink and parchment in the near-dark seemed so far removed from the ethereal being who read forbidden words in the straight-backed chair in the beaming light of morning. The mix of light and faith with this hidden intellect and exacting darkness drew the Fomoire by his very bones. When he wasn't adventuring out away from the castle or with Rowena, he was at Lady Calla's side, no matter where she found herself in her daily process.
In just an effort to be near her, he'd found himself a part of her charity, helping to carry tired children, dispensing blankets, and even sharing food. Zafi had arched an eyebrow at him more than once, but Airn pretended not to see. Boredom was a sailor's worst enemy and between his stalwart healer and his quiet hostess, it hadn't even crossed his mind.
Things moved so much slower with Calla. She was too busy to give him the attention he wanted from her. And she seemed immune to the goading he used on Rowena. So many times he cursed his iron-weakness, wishing he could just dip his fingers into her mind and turn her eyes to him. But, like he'd felt with Rowena's foul mouth and fearlessness, he got the sense she wouldn't be quite as much fun if she weren't moving through her life as she always had.
Still, there were countless garden walks. Conversations. Quiet moments by firelight wherein he perhaps sat too close but she did not pull away. And one night he'd told her she reminded him of his captain. Not the traitorous one but the one before. Fearghal. He spoke the man's name for the first time in a century. He told her how this captain had cared for each individual crewmember as family rather than weapons, how he'd practically raised him. How he'd loved him.
Like that was a floodgate cracking open, the rest of his story came rushing. Life on the streets as an orphan, meeting Fearghal, loving Fearghal, the mutiny, Corvan, fleeing to obscurity under a new captain, a bad captain. He caught her all the way up to the tale he'd already told of the shipwreck and she said not a word throughout it, only watching his face and reaching out to squeeze his hand when his voice choked around the telling of Corvan slicing open his captain's throat.
She even pretended not to notice his tears when he wiped them away.
If she had the spare time, she was with him. But always, always, at the end of the day, she'd politely request he leave and he did—to his shock—every time. He'd never seen her in less than full gown and jewels. Once, she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder, exhausted, and he'd only carried her to bed and pulled blankets over her, pushing for no mischief mostly because he didn't know how he'd explain it without glamour and the thought of being cast out of this place struck him as terrifying. To a paralyzing degree.
But he was Fomoire. And he was young. And he did push mischief in other areas. His kiss lingered perhaps too long against her knuckles. His hand strayed a bit too low on her back. When they were alone, he found comfort with her enough to stroke her hair and tip her chin and even kissed her once, catching her just inside the kitchen corridor as she went to fetch extra bread herself since the servants were all busy.
She'd done nothing more than blink at him when they parted, and neither'd had a chance to speak before the flow of traffic interrupted and then there was work to be done again. It hadn't changed anything between them afterward either. Except, perhaps, that she sat a bit closer to him. Flushed a bit brighter. At the meal, she even reached under the table to thread her fingers with his.
It was as slow and maddening as his ironwound's healing, but Airn enjoyed the hunt. For the first time in his life, he understood that patience could actually bring rewards. Of course, back then, he had almost none of it and it wasn't long before he caught her on her way from her rooms to the hall to hear petitions. Before she could finish her greeting, he had her pinned back against the tapestries with a peaking hunger. Even in recovery his body shifted fluid, like the wake of a ship or the roll of a sail in gentle winds. It was hardly a movement at all, he was just simply…closer now.
“Wh-What are you doing?”
Her hand fluttered up to rest against his chest, but she didn't push him away.
“Calla…”
His smile and tone would’ve been patronizing if not for the warmth. Like sunlight on shallow water. The way his voice pooled low, it almost seemed to slither through her body like a thing alive. He might not have had enough glamour to fill a thimble, but he was still fae. His head canted.
“I’m seducing you.”
He nearly kissed her trembling lips before he registered the dull ache pressing to his breastbone.
His curse and jerking backstep might've startled her even more than the iron had him.
“Are you alright?” were the first panicked words from her mouth.
“I...” Airn cleared his throat. “Just my wound. It pains me.”
It did. Constantly. But where at the beginning of their relationship Calla might've offered her sympathies and inquired into his health, now she reached out a slim hand and laid it against his abdomen. If he'd had his wits and she hadn't been wearing her new jewelry, he might've turned the moment back toward seduction. But as it was, he could only blink at the woven metal lying so innocuously around her neck, draped over the subtle swell of her breast. At the end of the chain hung the simple asymmetrical cross shape he'd seen in the castle's chapel. He tried to affect nonchalance while still boring holes into her chest.
“That, ah, that's new, isn't it?”
Calla followed his gaze at last and removed her hand from him to close her fingers around the chain. With a smile, she lifted it to show him better. He resisted the urge to pull back again. He knew, in his heart, that it would only sting. That it could not hurt him beyond a little pain if it only touched his skin. He'd played in iron filings from the jewelers and the smiths like any Fomoiri child after all. But now the smell alone had him nauseous. His wound throbbed like it had when it was fresh and oozing.
“Yes, it is,” Calla said, oblivious to him for the moment. “Rowena suggested it. A simple cross. Made of the metal that would've formed the nails that killed our Lord.”
His breaths had shortened.
“Rowena?”
The lady nodded. Then tilted her head. “It's funny. I hadn't thought Rowena paid that much attention to the teachings of the Christ. We discuss beliefs quite often. I know she values the pantheon of her people most highly. Nature is more real to her than anything. Which I admire, to be honest. So few Christians value the earth we live... Oh, goodness, you look very unwell. Should I fetch her?”
Airn did, in fact, feel very unwell. Dizzy, hot and cold in the wrong spots, heart pounding. But it wasn't from the iron and it wasn't from his injury. His voice came out more threatening than he meant it to. Like it had in the beginning before he'd learned the limits of human fear.
“I'll find her.”
And he did. She had to know he would. And even though he approached with the dangerous sort of quiet that killed, she did not jolt quite enough to satisfy him when he grabbed her arm. They were alone in the airy woods on the verge of a field. A low stone wall ran the division between the two types of green and brown. No witnesses for miles.
His lip curled as he looked down over her body.
“What? No iron for you?”
Her pale skin paled more, making the spatter of freckles across her face stand out darker. Her free hand slipped around behind her and she backed away. He let her go when she wrenched her arm free, but moved with her, keeping the distance close. His head tilted too quick, too alien, and she made a soft noise of alarm, pulling her hands back around in front of her, now both wrapped around the hilt of her little plant-cutting knife.
“Stay back.”
Airn laughed, deep and mad and from his gut. He might've been weak enough even a Fomoiri child could take him down, but this girl and her little sliver of metal did not frighten him. Funny, despite the sharp iron, he didn't feel the same sickening dread as with Calla's necklace. Maybe because he was angry now.
When the little healer feinted forward a bit to try to make him retreat, he caught her wrist and pulled, twisting, sending the knife bouncing away and yanking her against him. Her voice came out in a rush, like he'd crushed the words from her in the move.
“I know what you are.”
“Do you?”
“We have stories, you know. We're not stupid.” She was angry now. The fire had returned, flushing red through pale cheeks. “The sidhe steal children and corrupt minds into mush so they can play—”
His frown deepened with every word until he talked over her. “Rowena—Rowena. I am not sidhe.”
“What else could you be? You skirt around your Name, you listen in threes, and you nearly died of iron poisoning.”
He studied her confusion. She knew he was not human. She even knew enough to pick out what would harm him. And rather than attack him, she'd simply used it to protect her ladyship. What did he have to lose by the truth? He felt more concern that she'd think him one of those filth than any desire to protect secrets that seemed so unimportant now.
“I'm Fomoire.”
“Fomoire.” Her tone darkened with disgust and she pushed away. “The demons that came from the sea?”
And just like that he absorbed all of her confusion. “Demons? From the sea?”
“Oh gods, you're some horrible beast under that skin, aren't you? Have you got fishy parts?” She whined high in her throat, paling, shaking her hands. “What's been inside me?!”
With a building snarl, he dropped the glamour from his appearance like wrenching a curtain open. Though sudden, the differences were subtle. His bones were shaped smoother and sharper. He stood differently, his weight held in new patterns. Inexplicably inhuman, taller than he'd been, and more like a predator. His features changed the most, sharpening to an alien beauty. He knew for a fact the whole picture was quite accentuated by the seething irritation in black eyes. In some lights, to some people, he would look nearly demonic.
Rowena's legs gave out and she half-sat hard on the stone wall and stared, unbreathing, frozen like a rabbit in tall grass. After a few heartbeats, she teetered in her seat and reflexively took a short breath to avoid a faint. Seeming to snap out of her shock a bit, she moved closer again. Airn remained very still, watching her approach. She lifted a hand to touch the accentuated line of his cheekbone where the fresh pink scar had taken a strange new twist. She withdrew quickly, as though his skin were just this side of too warm to remain in contact. Another long pause.
“You're beautiful.”
“Beautiful?”
She squeaked in surprise. His voice pitched lower in this form, echoing larger and deeper somehow. It was still his. The same tones and rhythm and mysterious accent. But there was an Otherness to it now, beyond its depth. As though he could command cowards to stand and the hopeless to fight.
“Maybe...beautiful isn't the word. I...I don't know the word. Majestic, perhaps.”
He snorted, completely shattering the image of some sea-god come to her forest. Rowena laughed, a sharp sudden bark of mirth and the tension evaporated. She covered her mouth as if to take back the sound, but her fingers slipped down to reveal her usual grin. Strangely, he felt almost none of the rage he'd burned with before, but his smile slipped away again.
“This is Fomoire, Rowena. I hate the sidhe. And I love you. Even if I had the power to crush your mind, I never would.”
Her grin faded as well, down to something almost smug. “You love me?” Before he could even start to splutter, she'd curled her fingers around his wrist, pulling him to the stone wall to sit beside her. “Could we...? Well, I mean, could you...stay like this?”
“Not in the village.”
“No, just for now. I want to...”
She leaned up, kneeling beside him, to investigate the subtle point to his ears and he let her, trying very hard not to smile too wide.
“To see?”
At her hurried nod, he chuckled.
“Not like that!” She smacked his chest hard. “Well, maybe like that. But I want to know how you work. I spent a week keeping you alive and you were hiding this from me! I could've helped you sooner if—”
“No, you couldn't have.”
“Well, I might have.” She squirmed closer, all at once childlike. “Which stories are true? What can you do? Tell me everything about your kind. And you'll have to show the Lady Calla this, of course. As soon as we get back.”
“I think she might take it less well than you.”
“Less well than trying to stab you? Oh, aye. She's a vicious one.”
Airn studied her then, in silence. It took her a moment to focus from her own thoughts and meet his gaze and when she did it was still a little distant. She gave a cautious smile.
“What is it?”
“You gave her iron. To protect her.”
“Aye, that was the idea. Worked, it seems, as you're not covered in blood nor talking of her in the past tense.”
Airn fell quiet again, unsure how to ask, how to put it to words. Her care was such a subtle thing, not like Calla's feeding of the masses. Rowena fixed what broke and then turned around and smacked it when it was being stupid. She worked out theories and came up with solutions without any grand gestures.
This time she didn't wait for him to press again before continuing, her voice quiet, smile still small but no longer distant. “Remember, I loved her long before I loved you. If everything else slips your mind about we humble mortals, never forget that.”
He gave the intensity the pause it deserved before he grinned. An expression that, on his new face, made her breath hitch a little.
“You love me, Lady Jailer?”
She hit his chest, but she climbed on his lap and kissed him soundly.
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saeculumaeterna · 3 years
Note
20. for angry sex
@angel-caked / @angel-caked-mantra
Really, Dagon knew something like this was inevitable. Their whole relationship was more about conflict than affection. Sure both could take a few jabs and jokes, but it was inevitable that things boiled over eventually. Perhaps this exact outcome was less likely but this course of action was never in doubt.
Rage was beneath the ageless. Ironically, he had no time for it. It was pointless to waste his anger on someone when anything they could do were things he could easily undo or counter. Conflict appealed to him less and less with how absurdly powerful he was. It didn't mean that people didn't try of course, but there as no real threat they could actually manifest let alone follow through on.
None of that had happened here. Instead, it was jealousy. It was well known that Angel had dug his claws deep into the godkiller and had little intention of sharing him anytime soon. On most occasions it was amusing and charming. On the few outside that, it was cumbersome and unpleasant.
Perhaps it was borne from some deep-seated fear that gripped Angel tightly and one that they hadn't set him free of yet. Perhaps it was simply how he liked to be in his relationships. Perhaps it was something else entirely. The catalyst could be discovered later.
But for now, Angel's borderline obsessive possession of him had finally strayed too far. It was chasing away customers and giving his bar a bad name. And while he did not need the money, he did like his reputation. People talked, and it traveled fast. Even though he rarely returned their open flirtations he was at least smart enough to not do it while he was in a relationship, let alone when his partner was there.
Angel did not draw such a clear distinction however, instead pouncing, sometimes literally, on those who dared to to even try and take what was his. And while it was still hot, it was again becoming a problem. After yet another scene had been caused, Dagon did something he never thought he'd do to Angel. He glared at him, the anger simmering behind his gaze.
So much for rage being beneath him.
A nudge in the other customer's minds had them quickly fleeing the bar, the door locking behind them. Angel, perhaps realizing what he had done or perhaps just not giving a shit, opened his mouth with some explanation or smartass comment at the ready.
Dagon did not give him that chance.
Instead he slammed Angel against the back wall of the bar counter, the impact being a far cry from the usual gentle care he showed in his touches. The force shook several bottles of high-end spirits off the display stands and sent them crashing down onto the floor. Shards of glass and splashes of drink hit their legs but neither paid it any mind.
"You," Dagon began, "will learn to control yourself." A fool's request, but one he would ensure came to fruition. Another effort at a retort was made and again it was silenced, lips crushing against the demon's own. A recently acquired collar was manifested around Angel's neck, a leash with it and wrapped securely around Dagon's wrist.
"You want to snarl at people like some animal?" Dagon spoke after pulling back, making sure Angel's eyes were on him all the while. "I'll treat you like a damn animal then."
That still present glare locked Angel into place, allowing Dagon to carelessly rip apart the spider's clothing. Scraps of it flew across the room, and the demon's body was laid bare once more for the ageless. It was always a ravishing sight, but there would be no appreciating it now.
"What are animals like you good for. The slaughter? The hunt? No. You are good for but one thing. To be bred." A sharp gasp was drawn from Angel's lips as he was suddenly penetrated, Dagon thrusting firmly inside him up to the hilt. Or rather, hilts. He'd not just forced his way into one spot, but added a second cock and plunged it inside the demon's ass. No prep was given, no consideration spared.
Claws hooked onto a broad body, fisting in his shirt and squeezing his shoulders. The arachnid was unprepared, but adjusted quickly. Claws unclenched to slide around the ageless's back, clutching at fabric and flesh none too gently either.
Dagon granted one small mercy, letting Angel adjust to the intrusions in him. When his legs hooked around Dagon's waist, he took that as his cue to breed away. The leash was yanked on, forcing Angel forward and causing him to flop his head down on Dagon's shoulders. Hot breath left him, quickly accompanied by loud moaning as Dagon began fucking him earnest.
The godkiller's own hands were also shifted into claws, firmly dug into Angel's hips and cutting into the flesh and fur there. Angel followed suit, ripping the simple shirt under his sharp touch and leaving long drag marks along the newly exposed skin beneath. It would seem that neither were getting out of this without a few new scars.
Angel leaned back against the back wall, a smirk on his lips and hunger in his eyes. He'd rolled with the punches here easily, and he was already formulating some payback.
His shirt didn't last long, but it was easily replaced. Shreds of it either hung off him or just collected in a pile beneath them. His tie wasn't so carelessly discarded however. Angel had worked to keep the collar of the shirt mostly intact, allowing him to use that tie as his own leash. Fair was fair right?
Well fairness wasn't the goal here. When Angel pulled on the tie, Dagon did move with it. Farther than Angel probably intended. Instead Dagon moved to the muscles above Angel's clavicle and sunk his teeth in there. It wasn't a neck bite, but it was one that was guaranteed to be remembered. Dagon had heated up his fangs for this, and they sank mercilessly into Angel's body. The demon cried out, but the godkiller did not stop. He pushed them in deep, the fire of them searing into the spider's body.
Angel was fast to protest, trying to use his super strength to push Dagon back. But the ageless held firm, and eventually withdrew his teeth voluntarily. The new wounds were smoking, and they wouldn't stay open forever, but they were quite the brand.
Angel looked at his marking with wide eyes, panting at the sudden pain and shock of it. He looked at Dagon, expecting an answer, only to be met with a stone face save for that glare. It made him livid, and he reacted. Yanking Dagon close once more, Angel returned to gesture in kind by sinking all of his razor sharp, dagger like teeth into Dagon's neck and pouring a generous amount of his venom in as well. He might not be able to burn his teeth in like the immortal had, but he'd be damned if he took that laying down.
The venom in truth did no harm to the ageless. Not because Angel's venom was harmless no, but because Dagon was immune to poisons and had been for some time. Instead it was more like a pleasant buzz in his veins. Perhaps it showed, because Angel wasn't done with him yet. Rather than remove his teeth as Dagon had, Angel dragged them off the other's neck. He left trails all along the way, which he looked at with no small measure of pride. The demon gave Dagon another grin, now full of bloodied teeth.
Honestly, it was quite arousing to him.
Their brief interlude now done, Dagon resumed pounding his lover against the wall with increasing force. Each impact shook the bar and sent more bottles and glasses now crashing to the floor. It felt like the whole building was shaking, and the wall was even starting to crack from it all. Dagon did not care, it could all be mended.
And Angel clearly did not care either, holding on tighter to Dagon and marking him further with his claws. They cut into the skin of his back, leaving little trails of blood to drip down that was ignored by the couple. The noise, the tremors, the blood, it all just fuelled the moment.
Angel had dropped any pretence of playing, loudly calling for Dagon to fuck him harder, faster, to fill him up and breed him like the 'animal' he was. Dagon indulged himself for a while longer, savouring this moment of walls breaking down and unabashed lust giving way.
Finally, Angel clenched his body tight and squeezed Dagon as hard as his super strength allowed. Dagon knew what was coming, and his had been coiling up for a while. He let it out, joining his lover in orgasmic bliss as he buried his seed deep inside Angel. Dagon snapped his hips forward a few times, pushing in extra shots as they came before finally coming to a rest.
There was a moment now to catch their breath and collect themselves, something Dagon found himself surprisingly needing to do. He didn't lose control like this often, it was really quite the rarity, but he still needed to steel himself again once more.
After a few moments had passed in indulging in the afterglow, Dagon leaned back enough to let some light in between them. He pointed to the newly carved imprint of Angel's sharp fangs on his neck. They looked like he had been bitten by a bear trap and somehow he suspected neither of them cared.
"What does this mean." The fog of lust cleared from Angel's eyes for a moment, the arachnid slowly blinking back into awareness.
"Mine." He growled out, a claw reaching up and stroking the new addition to his ageless.
Dagon nodded, now pointing to the still smoking set he had seared into Angel's body down to his bones. "What does this mean."
Angel grinned, maw full of teeth sharper than knives.
"Yours."
"Fuckin' right it does busta."
Angel smiled, leaning over and letting his head rest against Dagon's chest while he hid his laughter. "I really hate you." He shook his head, they both knew the words were a jest. Angel looked back up at Dagon's face, a lazy grin on his face.
"Also, animal? Really? An' you call me the freak." Dagon simply raised a brow.
"You are the freak. I'm just slightly less of one than you." Angel hid his face again, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.
Yeah, maybe they wouldn't always be okay. Maybe they'd butt heads like this again. But they knew each other cared. They'd just have to keep remembering that.
"So..." Angel asked to break the silence, twirling the tie around his fingers. "Round two?"
Fortunately, they would get a lot of reminders.
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gizedcom · 4 years
Text
Coronavirus UK: 85 new fatalities in preliminary death toll
Britain’s Covid-19 death toll today topped 45,000 as officials recorded just 85 more victims and Scotland has now gone an entire week without suffering a single fatality. 
Just 75 Britons are now dying of coronavirus each day, on average. In comparison, the rate last Wednesday was 87 after health chiefs revealed 126 more people had succumbed to the life-threatening infection.   
But the average number of new cases are still higher than they were last week — despite dropping for the second day in a row, suggesting the outbreak is not shrinking as quickly as officials hoped.
Department of Health statistics show 584 Britons are testing positive for the virus each day on average, after 538 more cases were confirmed today. 
The rate is 7 per cent higher than last Wednesday’s rate of 546 because of a spike in cases over the past week — even though the actual number of new infections is lower (630). 
In other coronavirus developments in Britain today:
Boris Johnson insisted he does not have a ‘magic wand’ to save jobs as he admitted a wave of redundancies is looming because of the devastating impact of Covid-19 on the economy;
Hopes for a working Covid-19 jab grew as two trials in the UK and US — by Oxford University and American firm Moderna — reported promising results in their early experiments;
The Health Secretary admitted he is ‘worried’ about the long term impact of coronavirus, with thousands of ‘long-haulers’ suffering fatigue and heart problems months after beating the disease;
The government’s face mask rules descended further into confusion as Matt Hancock insisted they must be worn to get takeaway coffee but not in pubs — and denied that they will be compulsory in offices; 
England’s coronavirus R rate was just 0.57 in May — significantly lower than Government scientists thought it was, Imperial College London researchers claimed; 
Pendle became the second Lancashire borough at risk of retreating back into lockdown because the disease is spreading out of control there, after a spike in cases in Blackburn with Darwen;
Rodent infestations across the UK have surged 42 per cent during Britain’s coronavirus lockdown, according to an analysis by an insurance company.
COVID-19 DEATH RATES WERE FOUR TIMES HIGHER IN CITIES THAN REMOTE AREAS 
People living in larger urban areas were four times more likely to die with Covid-19 than those in remote locations over the past four months, according to official figures.
National Records of Scotland (NRS) data shows between March 1 and June 30, there were 116.8 age-standardised deaths involving Covid-19 per 100,000 people in large urban areas.
In contrast, the rate was just 26.8 per 100,000 in remote rural locations. 
The gap was substantially smaller when considering the rate of deaths from all causes, where it was 1.4 times higher in large urban areas than in remote rural areas. 
People in the most deprived areas of the country were 2.1 times more likely to die with Covid than those living in the least deprived parts, the analysis found. 
As of July 12, the overall coronavirus death toll for Scotland stood at 4,173, with 13 deaths in the week to Sunday – a decrease of five from the previous week. 
This is the 11th weekly reduction in a row, and the lowest weekly total since mid-March. 
It comes as lockdown restrictions continue to ease in phase three of the Scottish Government’s route map out of lockdown. 
Barbers and hair salons can reopen from Wednesday with enhanced hygiene measures in place, as can indoor pubs and restaurants. 
NRS figures show deaths involving Covid-19 accounted for 1 per cent of all those registered between July 6 and July 12, down from a peak in week 17 when Covid-19 deaths accounted for 36 per cent of all fatalities. 
The NRS analysis also shows the highest number of deaths involving Covid-19 of working people aged 20-64 by occupation group were among process, plant and machine operatives, where the age-standardised death rate was 25.1 per 100,000 population. 
Compared to the average death rate of deaths involving Covid-19 for all occupations, which was 10.2 per 100,000 population, health workers had a lower death rate (6.4) whilst social care workers had a higher rate (14.4). 
Department of Health figures released yesterday showed 144,000 tests were carried out or posted the day before. The number includes antibody tests for frontline NHS and care workers.
But bosses again refused to say how many people were tested, meaning the exact number of Brits who have been swabbed for the SARS-CoV-2 virus has been a mystery for a month — since May 22.
Health chiefs also reported 398 more cases of Covid-19. Government statistics show the official size of the UK’s  outbreak now stands at 291,373 cases. 
But the actual size of the outbreak, which began to spiral out of control in March, is estimated to be in the millions, based on antibody testing data.
It means the rolling average of daily cases dropped from 624 to 597, after it rose for three days in a row. It was higher than it was last Tuesday (575). 
The daily death data does not represent how many Covid-19 patients died within the last 24 hours — it is only how many fatalities have been reported and registered with the authorities.
The data does not always match updates provided by the home nations. Department of Health officials work off a different time cut-off, meaning daily updates from Scotland as well as Northern Ireland are always out of sync.
And the count announced by NHS England every afternoon — which only takes into account deaths in hospitals — does not match up with the DH figures because they work off a different recording system.
For instance, some deaths announced by NHS England bosses will have already been counted by the Department of Health, which records fatalities ‘as soon as they are available’.
More than 1,000 infected Brits died each day during the darkest days of the crisis in mid-April but the number of victims had been dropping by around 20 to 30 per cent week-on-week since the start of May. 
NHS England today posted 22 deaths in hospitals across the country. Two fatalities were recorded in all settings in Wales but none were registered again in Northern Ireland or Scotland.  
It comes as Nicola Sturgeon today revealed that Scotland has now gone a full week without any new coronavirus deaths.
Speaking during the daily briefing in Edinburgh, the First Minister said no Covid-19 deaths have been reported in the last 24 hours among patients who have tested positive for the virus.
The latest figures show 18,373 people have tested positive for the virus in Scotland, up by five from 18,368 the day before.
Ms Sturgeon also said that on three days in the week to July 9, there were no admissions to hospital of confirmed Covid-19 cases and there have been six days in total since June 26 with no coronavirus admissions.
Ms Sturgeon said: ‘If I think back to the early part of April, into May, what I would have given to stand here and give you figures like that.
‘At the peak of this outbreak more than 200 people were for a period being admitted to hospital every day. Let’s not take the risk of going back to that.’
HOPES RISE OF A COVID-19 JAB BREAKTHROUGH AS TWO TRIALS IN UK AND US SHOW PROMISE
Hopes for a working Covid-19 vaccine are growing as two projects in the UK and US have reported promising results in their early experiments.
Teams from Oxford University and the American pharmaceutical company Moderna have both revealed people in their studies are showing signs of immunity.
They have been developing experimental jabs for months to try to protect millions of people from catching the coronavirus in future.
Oxford scientists have already said they are ’80 per cent’ confident they can have a jab available by September.
People being given the Oxford vaccine have been developing antibodies and white blood cells called T cells which will help their bodies fight off the virus if they get infected, the researchers say.
And experts at Moderna, based in Cambridge, Massachusetts, said participants in their trial all successfully developed antibodies.
The vaccines work by tricking the body into thinking it’s infected with Covid-19 and causing it to produce immune substances that have the ability to destroy it.
While early research focused on antibodies, scientists are increasingly turning to a type of immunity called T cell immunity — which is controlled by white blood cells — which has shown signs of promise.
One source on the Oxford project told ITV News: ‘An important point to keep in mind is that there are two dimensions to the immune response: antibodies and T-cells.
‘Everybody is focused on antibodies but there is a growing body of evidence suggesting that the T-cells response is important in the defence against coronavirus.’
The milestone came as Scotland eased lockdown restrictions further. The First Minister said: ‘Today marks the biggest step for Scotland out of lockdown so far.
‘The childcare sector can fully open from today, venues like museums, galleries and other attractions can also welcome visitors from today, although in many cases you will need to book tickets in advance.
‘Hairdressing services resume today, in fact I understand some opened at midnight (because of) demand. I wish I had known about that.’
Ms Sturgeon said the changes were ‘long-awaited’ and ‘hard-earned by everybody’ but admitted she is ‘even more nervous’ about the lockdown relaxation than earlier phases of coming out of lockdown. 
Many of the changes involve indoor activity, she said, adding that the risk of the virus spreading indoors, in a pub for example, is significantly higher than it is outdoors.
Ms Sturgeon added: ‘That is why we have deliberately waited until infection levels were very low before allowing these services to restart, that gives us the best possible chances of managing the risk that reopening indoor services creates.
‘But it doesn’t remove those risks, and so it is vital — more vital than it has been at any stage of this crisis so far — that all of us stick rigidly to the rules and guidance on how to behave in these different settings.’
Referring to fresh lockdown restrictions in California, where bars, cinemas and restaurants have had to close down again, she said: ‘That must be a reminder that our progress out of lockdown could yet go into reverse.
‘And it will go into reverse if we see signs that the virus is starting to spread widely in the community again. So all of us must do everything we can to ensure that doesn’t happen.’ 
It comes as hopes of a working Covid-19 vaccine grew today as two projects in the UK and US reported promising results in their early experiments.
Teams from Oxford University and the American pharmaceutical company Moderna have both revealed people in their studies are showing signs of immunity.
They have been developing experimental jabs for months to try to protect millions of people from catching the coronavirus in future.
Oxford scientists have already said they are ’80 per cent’ confident they can have a jab available by September.
People being given the Oxford vaccine have been developing antibodies and white blood cells called T cells which will help their bodies fight off the virus if they get infected, the researchers say.
And experts at Moderna, based in Cambridge, Massachusetts, said participants in their trial all successfully developed antibodies.
SECOND LANCASHIRE BOROUGH OF PENDLE WARNS OF COVID-19 OUTBREAK AFTER SPIKE IN BLACKBURN
The Lancashire borough of Pendle warned of a coronavirus outbreak today — after a spike in cases in nearby Blackburn with Darwen.
County health officials fear the district, home to around 92,000 people, is at risk of retreating back into lockdown if the disease continues to spread.
It had an infection rate of 73 new cases per 100,000 people in the week ending July 12, putting it second only to Leicester — the only place in Britain to have had a local lockdown imposed.
Lancashire’s director of public health Dr Sakthi Karunanithi has now given an ‘early warning’ for people to wash their hands often, stick to social distancing and wear masks in indoor public places. Dr Karunanithi admitted there had been a ‘slight increase’ in Covid-19 cases and said ‘We need your help now to… keep Pendle out of lockdown’.
The news comes as officials in Blackburn with Darwen — just 18 miles away — have placed new restrictions on residents meaning only two at a time will be able to visit other households. This differs from the national guidance, which says two households of any size can meet inside.
Residents have also been urged not to hug anyone they don’t live with and to get regularly tested for coronavirus.
Eighty-five per cent of the 114 cases diagnosed in the past fortnight were among its South Asian community, according to local health bosses.
It’s unclear what proportion of ethnic minorities make up Pendle’s new cases — but around 20 per cent of the authority’s population are of South Asian heritage. 
Cases in Blackburn with Darwen have soared from around 20 per 100,000 population to a rate of 47 since June 24
The vaccines work by tricking the body into thinking it’s infected with Covid-19 and causing it to produce immune substances that have the ability to destroy it.
While early research focused on antibodies, scientists are increasingly turning to a type of immunity called T cell immunity — which is controlled by white blood cells — which has shown signs of promise.
One source on the Oxford project told ITV News: ‘An important point to keep in mind is that there are two dimensions to the immune response: antibodies and T-cells.
‘Everybody is focused on antibodies but there is a growing body of evidence suggesting that the T-cells response is important in the defence against coronavirus.’
In other developments today, the Lancashire borough of Pendle warned of a coronavirus outbreak — after a spike in cases in nearby Blackburn with Darwen.
County health officials fear the district, home to around 92,000 people, is at risk of retreating back into lockdown if the disease continues to spread.
It had an infection rate of 73 new cases per 100,000 people in the week ending July 12, putting it second only to Leicester — the only place in Britain to have had a local lockdown imposed.
Lancashire’s director of public health Dr Sakthi Karunanithi has now given an ‘early warning’ for people to wash their hands often, stick to social distancing and wear masks in indoor public places.
Pendle council said: ‘The overall rate and number of cases remains relatively low, but there are signs of ongoing household transmission’.
Dr Karunanithi admitted there had been a ‘slight increase’ in Covid-19 cases and said ‘We need your help now to… keep Pendle out of lockdown’.
The news comes as officials in Blackburn with Darwen — just 18 miles away — have placed new restrictions on residents meaning only two at a time will be able to visit other households. This differs from the national guidance, which says two households of any size can meet inside.
Residents have also been urged not to hug anyone they don’t live with and to get regularly tested for coronavirus.
Eighty-five per cent of the 114 cases diagnosed in the past fortnight were among its South Asian community, according to local health bosses.
It’s unclear what proportion of ethnic minorities make up Pendle’s new cases — but around 20 per cent of the authority’s population are of South Asian heritage.
Many other areas of England which have the current highest infection rates of Covid-19, such as Bradford, Rochdale and Oldham, also have large South Asian communities.
A Bank of England policymaker today said the UK economy is set for an ‘incomplete V-shaped’ recovery from the coronavirus crisis with a bounce back likely to stall at the end of 2020 because of rising unemployment.
Bank interest rate-setter Silvana Tenreyro said an anticipated increase in the number of people without work, likely caused by the removal of Government support in the coming months, will slow consumer spending.
Meanwhile, continued social distancing in key parts of the economy like the hospitality sector and lingering coronavirus fears which may stop some shoppers from returning to the high street could also hinder growth.
Ms Tenreyro predicted an ‘interrupted’ or ‘incomplete’ V-shaped recovery as an initial rebound in activity loses steam towards the end of the year.
She said the first quarterly growth rebound will come between July and September as lockdown restrictions ease further, with data already pointing to a sharp pick-up in purchases due to lockdown rules being eased.
But she warned: ‘This will be interrupted by continued risk aversion and voluntary social distancing in some sectors, remaining restrictions on activities in others, and in general by higher unemployment.’
HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE REALLY DIED OF THE CORONAVIRUS?
Department of Health: 45,053
Department of Health’s latest death count for all settings stands at 45,053.
The daily data does not represent how many Covid-19 patients died within the last 24 hours — it is only how many fatalities have been reported and registered with the authorities. 
It also only takes into account patients who tested positive for the virus, as opposed to deaths suspected to be down to the coronavirus. Many people were not tested early on in the outbreak, meaning thousands are suspected to be missing from the total.
National statistical bodies: 55,720
Data compiled by the statistical bodies of each of the home nations show 55,720 people died of either confirmed or suspected Covid-19 across the UK by the end of May.
The Office for National Statistics confirmed that 50,698 people in England and Wales died with confirmed or suspected Covid-19 by July 3.
The number of coronavirus deaths was 835 by the same day in Northern Ireland, according to the Northern Ireland Statistics and Research Agency (NISRA).
National Records Scotland — which collects statistics north of the border — said 4,187 people had died across the country by July 12.
Their tallies are always 10 days behind the Department of Health (DH) because they wait until as many fatalities as possible for each date have been counted, to avoid having to revise their statistics.
Excess deaths: 64,698 
Excess deaths are considered to be an accurate measure of the number of people killed by the pandemic because they include a broader spectrum of victims. As well as including people who may have died with Covid-19 without ever being tested, the data also shows how many more people died because their medical treatment was postponed, for example, or who didn’t or couldn’t get to hospital when they were seriously ill.
Data from England and Wales shows there has been an extra 58,830 deaths between March 27 and July 3, as well as 4,867 in Scotland, and 1,001 in Northern Ireland.
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randylavalley · 4 years
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The Naturopathic Treatment of Autoimmune Diseases
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When I see autoimmune individuals in my practice, among the first things I tell them is that they need to understand their very own body far better than any of the doctors they are dealing with can possibly know it. Medical professionals see many individuals with the exact same conditions, however none of the clients are precisely the same.
' Doctor' in Latin indicates teacher. We require to educate our clients how to manage or fix the problem they have. In order to do this efficiently, the patient needs to know his or her own body.
Autoimmune illness is a medical diagnosis that I see in my method everyday as a naturopathic physician (ND). NDs are known for being the most effective practitioners to deal with persistent conditions. This is because we check out each individual as a specific case and try to find the root causes of conditions and not just the symptoms presented. People that recognize their very own bodies will profit the most from this sort of alternative therapy.
MDs as well as NDs Working Together
The very best method of care for autoimmune individuals is a participating strategy between MDs as well as NDs to determine the origin of the condition and afterwards deal with the ensuing effects. This kind of MD/ ND co-management is perfect for a person that can take advantage of both preventative way of life changes and also typical medicines when needed. There are several naturopathic approaches to autoimmune disease that can be effective, including diet, food-sensitivity screening and supplements. All of them include placing the client accountable of his or her own health care.
MDs are ending up being extra aware that naturopathic doctors do exercise conventional medication, yet with some approaches that are different than their own pharmaceutical-based training. NDs do acknowledge the need for drugs, largely as a last hope. NDs typically collaborate with patients to figure out when a therapy is no longer necessary. This needs the commitment and collaboration of all involved; patients and also medical professionals. With any luck, we're closer to the day when MDs and also NDs will flawlessly interact on a participating prepare for individuals, making use of the most effective of both techniques.
Managing Your Health care
Clients require to find out exactly how to manage their own health care, make their own choices, and seek treatments that work for them. If they don't find the solutions they are seeking with an expert, they ought to maintain looking. To paraphrase an old stating, "No person individual, teaching or religious beliefs has the syndicate on knowledge." People with autoimmune problems, or any kind of persistent problem, must maintain this in mind as they begin the look for awareness regarding their treatment choices. Things a client does daily, from the foods they consume to the products they utilize, the job they do, lifestyle, etc., all can have a result on their health. Physicians can not comply with the client every min of the day to identify what has unfavorable effects on that particular patient. The individual has to become savvy sufficient to figure it out, with assistance as well as instructions from their doctors.
For instance, one of my people unexpectedly began having dizzy spells. They were arbitrary and also sometimes lasted for hrs, at some time for secs. None of the medical professionals she mosted likely to might figure out the cause or a reliable therapy to correct the sign. The patient changed her call lens remedy and also symptoms totally dealt with. None of us would certainly have connected the two. The patient realized sufficient of her day-to-day way of living routine that she right away saw the modification that quit the symptom. Knowing your very own body as well as identifying that every little thing in your way of life has a bearing on your health and wellness is so important.
Deal With The Reason( s) Not Just The Symptoms
Digestion
Food digestion is usually a problem with autoimmune patients. It requires to be attended to today. If you can't refine as well as take in nutrients from food or supplements, then getting any type of solutions into the system is going to take much longer. Systemic treatment requires a systemic strategy. As a result, it is necessary that the body's digestion system operate in the person's favor. Any kind of persistent condition will need to have the digestive system functioning optimally. The features of the gastrointestinal system are straight connected to the ideal feature of the immune system. An immune system currently in trouble is most likely to additionally have a digestive element that is bothersome.
Diet plan
Autoimmune people require to understand that what they are consuming has a HUGE impact on their condition. Some individuals are informed that what they eat doesn't matter. Your food is your nourishment-- exactly how can it not matter? It's just sensible that the human body needs the capacity to absorb all of the offered nutrients in order to operate. This is specifically true for people that have health and wellness conditions, including autoimmune disease.
When I suggest people to alter their diet plans in order to deal with autoimmune issues, a regular reaction is, "I've been consuming by doing this my whole life, so exactly how could food be a concern now?" Think about this declaration. If food plays even a little part of the formula, and the client has been eating similarly their entire life, then doesn't it make good sense that diet goes to the very least part of what is creating the damages that has caused a larger health problem?
The body, when offered the correct tools (such as nutrients), has a fantastic capability to recover itself. It is additionally remarkable just how much abuse it will take in the past breaking down as well as producing a condition that is going to be harder to repair later on.
With any persistent problem, the individual will certainly enhance by consuming what helps them, and also getting rid of foods that do not aid, or trigger further concerns. For autoimmune individuals, the initial two foods to be removed are undoubtedly milk as well as wheat. Nearly every refined food has wheat in it. To avoid checking out a lots of tags, the simplest method to manage wheat evasion is to focus on eating plant-based foods. No tags, no thinking, just eat entire foods. Regarding milk, do not fret that eliminating it will cause a calcium shortage. Several cultures worldwide do not take in the same large servings of milk that Americans take in as well as they don't experience weakening of bones. Several whole foods normally include calcium. If you're still worried, then you can always take a calcium supplement.
Other foods that need to be omitted are sugar (certainly) and also red meat. There likewise is a team of vegetables, called the nightshades, which are thought about highly inflammatory and ought to be stayed clear of. These consist of the peppers, tomatoes, potatoes as well as eggplant.
Food Sensitivity Test
Food sensitivity tests are readily available to help patients identify what other foods may be developing problems. These are not food allergy tests to establish anaphylactic reactions, but instead food sensitivity examinations that reveal what are called 'delayed responses.' Delayed reactions to foods are notoriously difficult to track. It is tough to associate a feedback to a food when there isn't an instant connection, and it takes time for the body to react. The only true method to establish a level of sensitivity is the elimination of it for at the very least two weeks, and also ideally much longer. A long-term problem won't get rid of with 2 weeks of staying clear of an angering food, yet the patient will likely really feel much better. That result is much better than any test result.
Having an entirely wholesome and healthy diet regimen will make all the difference in just how a client really feels and also exactly how the body takes care of numerous problems. If a client can't take care of the diet plan modifications on his or her very own, they need to look for aid from someone who can assist them. This is a really crucial component of anybody's healthcare, no matter what various other therapy options they choose.
Supplements And Various Other Therapies
Each autoimmune person is different from the following. The supplements, botanicals, holistic treatments, acupuncture, and also medicine selected for every patient are all dependent on the specific and also their symptoms. The techniques made use of by each professional can be very different also. Clients have lots of selections to make when managing their persistent problems. There is a lot of current research on the impacts of vitamin D, DHEA as well as omega fat for autoimmune disease. The checklist expands each year, as does the availability of information concerning brand-new treatment procedures. Once more, the patient is the vital part in the equation for what the very best health plan will certainly be for each and every person.
The health insurance additionally requires to show what the individual is able, or not able, to do. If a person is unable to make nutritional changes to help control the condition, after that there probably will be a demand for even more nutritional supplements and also possibly protein-fortified beverages. This will certainly differ from an individual that can take care of a nutrient-rich diet plan, likes to juice, consumes just organic foods, and wants to eliminate all refined foods. Utilizing other treatments normally does require specialist instructions. There are so many alternatives; a patient requires to work with a medical professional who can assist tighten the selections to a plan that works for the individual. Or else, a client that "attempts numerous approaches that they read about" can wind up throwing away a lot of cash and also time and taking way too many supplements that are not assisting.
Medical study can determine if a therapy or treatment will work for some people, however it does not imply it will help all patients with the same condition. As an example, the hormone DHEA may show assurance for therapy ... yet what regarding clients that already have DHEA levels that are expensive? The private factor also is critical when checking out the danger of interactions with drugs. Even when individuals are collaborating with both MDs as well as NDs, the individual should be aware of contraindications between treatments as well as pharmaceuticals. Doctors see a lot of people everyday that they don't remember what each person is taking. It is extremely important to take note of what you are taking. Several clients entered my workplace with recommended drugs, and I always ask if they recognize why they are taking each prescription. Sometimes, they don't know what all the prescriptions are for.
The Whole Wellness Photo
In consideration of the mind-body connection, NDs typically ask about an individual's emotional health and stress levels, previous and also existing. Often, a trigger can be discovered in these locations. Helping the patient to understand the relevance of these types of triggers, as well as establishing exactly how to settle them, is one more action in the direction of better health.
The complex nature of autoimmune problems normally requires more than one specialist to help in a patient's overall wellness. Working with medical professionals who appreciate the requirements of a patient, as well as who are actively looking for and using greater than one method each time, can be a vital part of treatment. I encourage clients to inform their MDs that they are looking for various other treatment options that the MD may not recognize with. All of us need to work together to obtain a method that works for the person. When an MD inhibits a person who explains that there are other specialists involved in treatment, the person will certainly not share important information with that said medical professional. This is plainly not the most effective scenario for clients or physicians. As a result, it is very important for all doctor to value the demands of the client, as well as what each practitioner offers the instance, for an optimum strategy that will certainly profit the person.
The article “ The Naturopathic Treatment of Autoimmune Diseases “ was first appeared on ProNatural Physicians Group
Want to know more about the different naturopathic treatments? Dr. Amauri Caversan ND is a naturopathic service provider in Toronto, Ontario. Check him out: https://dramaurinaturopath.com/
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the-record-columns · 5 years
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March 13, 2019: Columns
The truth always fits...
By KEN WELBORN
Record Publisher
I have been accused of many things in my life—many of which are true—including driving way too fast sometimes.
However, a far older and slower Ken is now criticized for the exact opposite fault—driving too slowly, much to the dismay of other drivers who have spoken volumes to me with their middle fingers.
However, one of my favorite stories is about a speeding ticket and my trip to court with my daddy, the preacher, C. S. Welborn.
It was in the late 80’s, and as I was traveling on U.S. 421 North in Yadkin County one day. I was running very late and desperately trying to make up lost time.  And, yes, I got pulled by a N.C. State Trooper who announced to me that it took several miles to catch me because I was going so fast. 
When I asked just how fast, he said I was clocked at over 80 mph when I went by him and he thought I had sped up after that.  I explained my predicament of being late and asked that, if he was going to write me a ticket, would he do so quickly.  He assured me a ticket was forthcoming and returned forthwith with a bit of a charitable tone, writing me up for only 79 mph in a 55 mph zone.  I was still heartsick—my license was going to be gone.
On court day, I took my dad with me to drive me home if I had to surrender my driver’s license on the spot.  In Yadkin County Court that day, I had lots of company and Judge Samuel Osborne had heard a ton of (very lame) excuses, none of which seemed to matter to him that day.
"Guilty."
"Guilty."
"Guilty."
They were dropping like flies, and then it was my turn.
"How do you plead?" I was asked. 
"No contest." I replied. 
"Wait a minute," Judge Osborne said, peering over his glasses. "Mr. Welborn, do you mean to tell this court that you were speeding?" 
I nodded yes, afraid to speak.
Judge Osborne continued, "...have you noticed that you are the only one here today who was actually speeding?"
I just stood there.
The trooper told the judge I had not been a problem, and when asked what I had to say for myself, he told the judge, "He said he was in a hurry."
Folks laughed until the judge glared down at them.
"Mr. Welborn, you haven't had any other tickets recently, have you?"
"Well yes, I got one 65 in a 55 and another 55 in a 45."
I had started feeling a bit better until I had to admit to the other two tickets, and the courtroom remained quiet for what seemed like an eternity. It was probably only about two minutes.
"So you were speeding, huh?" 
I again nodded.
Judge Osborne then went on to say, "Mr. Welborn, this court appreciates hour honesty. You are hereby convicted of running 65 in a 55 zone, go downstairs and pay a $15 fine and court costs. You can keep your driver's license."
    I even got the girl in the Clerk's office to take an out-of-town check—it was truly my day.
   But, best of all, my daddy was beaming.  On the way home he must have said a half-dozen times, "Son, I've always told you that honesty is the best policy."
    As ever, Pa was right.
  Obscure Diagnosis
By EARL COX
Special to The Record
Yes, we’re in flu season but that’s not the sort of disease to which I’m referring.  What I’m talking about is immune to any sort of preventive measures and has survived for thousands of years.  Antisemitism, the irrational hatred of the Jews, is a rising epidemic which is spreading around the world.
In Europe, the word “Jew” is used as a curse word.  Antisemitism in France has increased by 74% in the past year and just a few days ago at a carnival parade in Belgium, one of the floats depicted two giant Orthodox Jewish figures sitting on bags of money with two mice on their shoulders.  In the U.S. and around the world, there is an unprecedented rise in hate crimes directed at Jews. According to a recent Gallup World Affairs survey, in the United States support for Israel among liberal Democrats is at its lowest level of only 43%.  There is a fine line between what constitutes antisemitic speech and mere criticism of Israel.  Rep. Ilhan Omar, a Minnesota Democrat and one of two newly elected Muslim women to the U.S. Congress, recently made statements that equated support for Israel to having a traitorous-like allegiance to a foreign country (as though one cannot be both pro-Israel and a patriotic American at the same).  America and Israel have always had a close relationship based on our shared Judeo-Christian values – something the three newly elected congresswomen, among other Democrats, would like to change.  What Omar is attempting to do is form an idea in the minds of those who buy into her rhetoric that it is treasonous to be an American Zionist.  Very few people are aware of what the “cursed” Jews have contributed to America’s founding and continue to contribute today to making the world a better place.  A history lesson is in order here. 
Our sweet land of liberty owes a debt of gratitude to a little known and unsung Jewish hero named Haym Salomon.  Just what did he do that was so special that the U.S. Postal Service issued a commemorative stamp in his honor?  Almost singlehandedly, Haym Salomon gave the financial resources needed to finance the American Revolution and keep our new nation afloat.  In today’s dollars he gave the equivalent of tens of millions of dollars to the government which, at the time, did not have any power of taxation.   Born in Poland, this 32 year old Jewish immigrant landed in New  York in 1772 where he quickly set up shop as a merchant and trader in foreign securities.  George Washington was counted among his friends. In addition to financing the American Revolution, Salomon gave loans to many of our founding fathers to include Thomas Jefferson, James Monroe, James Madison and other prominent statesmen.  Some historical accounts say he charged no interest on these loans while others say he charged interest well below the market rate at that time. Haym Salomon knew what it was like to be at the top of the mountain as well as at the bottom.  At one point the British confiscated all of his property and forced him to flee penniless.  Nevertheless, he recovered and went on to help lay the financial foundation upon which Robert Morris, under the direction of Congress in 1781, established the Bank of North America.  Salomon recruited other financiers to support the bank, he located purchasers for “government bills of exchange” which are similar to today’s Treasury Notes, and who even loaned their own money to the government.   Jewish businessman Haym Salomon helped equip America’s soldiers and gave generously to military regimens.  He was never repaid the money he loaned to the government thus when he died in 1785, he was impoverished leaving his wife and four children with overwhelming debt.  Shortly before his passing, Mr. Salomon was responsible for having a “religious oath test” removed from the Pennsylvania state constitution which paved the way for non-Christians to hold public office.  I sincerely doubt our newly elected Muslim Congresswomen know this obscure fact of American history – that they owe their positions within the government of the United  States to a JEW who was willing to take risks for the building of a nation which valued life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Not only do we owe a debt of gratitude to this marvelous Jewish patriot for his vital contribution in the founding and funding of our great nation, but we continue to owe the Jews a debt of gratitude for their many contributions today in science, technology, medicine and agriculture, making the world a better, safer and healthier place for us all.  
   A Ruby Moment
By CARL WHITE
Life in the Carolinas
Good stories have a way of evolving and often lead to more good stories and that what happened this week.
We had just wrapped up a TV segment on 6th and Main Restaurant in North Wilkesboro. In addition to learning about the great food, we learned about the journey of the current owners, Jimmy and Heather Forester. We also learned about the house that was built in 1903.
It’s a colorful story that over the years has touched countless people. The house was first home to a dentist and then later was home to Richard Tipton “Tip” McNeill, his wife, Glady, and their children. McNeill was a co-owner of the local Coca-Cola Bottling company. He also served multiple terms as the mayor of North Wilkesboro.
As time passed, the McNeill family took in borders that stayed upstairs and this apparently planted a seed that would inspire the next owners.
Henry and Queenie Douglas would open the Douglas Inn that would be home to many over the years.
While doing research for the segment, I talked with John Kilby, Sr. with Yadkin Valley Ford, which is the current oldest continuously in-operation Ford dealership in North Carolina.  John shared with me that his mother was born at the Douglas Inn and so was his mother’s sister and their crib was a drawer.
John was gracious and agreed to be part of the segment open by driving me to 6th and Main in one of his great vintage cars. We waited for a sunny day and John did not disappoint.
The Douglas Inn would close in the 80’s.
Steve and Melody Critz would be the next owners. I visited with Steve, who is now living in Statesville. He shared the story of the work and time required to update and bring the house to life as the “Greetings from the Heart” gift shop and “The Tea Room.” Steve had saved a box of pictures from that time which included before, during and after construction. These pictures were valuable in our segment production.
In the box, he also had pictures of Pat McNeill Day, who was the daughter of Richard Tipton McNeill. In one photograph, he was sitting on the porch steps holding baby Pat. He also had a photograph of Pat enjoying “The Tea Room” many years later.  
While Steve loved the people, the time required to run a gift shop and restaurant was not to be a long-term endeavor.
It would next transform into “The Old Wilkes Plantation” which was operated by Fred and Peggy Bumgarner.
After five years, the house would again welcome new owners. Skip Phillips with Shirley Faw brought a new look and feel to the building as 6th and Main was introduced to the world.
Current owner, and Skip’s niece, Heather worked at the restaurant from the start. As time passed, one day Skip and Heather had a conversation which would lead to the eventual transition of new ownership of 6th and Main. Heather and Jimmy Forester became the new owners. They made a few changes including expanding catering services, and while they are always busy, they love the food business and love the people they serve.
They even have a cool ghost story.
And then, I visited with Ruby Felts Pennington and her daughter, Vivian. Conversations with Ruby are always gentle and kind. We talked about all sorts of things. She shared with me how she would be moving to an assisted living facility and how she was looking forward to making new friends. I told her about the 6th and Main story that we just wrapped up.
Not long after our visit, Vivian called and said that Ruby ask her to drive by 6th and Main. Well, as it turns out she actual lived at the Douglas Inn for one year! The year was 1947, Ruby was 16 and she worked at Cress Five and Dime. The room and board were $6 a week.
One day she was working on the window display and a recently discharged Navy man, John Ralph Pennington, came walking down the street. They made eye contact and Ruby told me he said, “Hello good looking.”
Even after all these years, I could still hear the excitement in her voice. Ruby was smitten and before long she had herself a Navy man who was also a bluegrass musician.
He was part of a group that played live on local WKBC Radio. Rudy and her friends would go to the radio station and watch them sing.
Ruby and Ralph would get married and have many wonderful years together. If she had not been staying at the Douglas Inn and working at the Cress, would they have met?
One house built in 1903 has nurtured families, provided shelter, nourishment, entertainment and celebrations for who knows how many!
That’s one heck of a house if you ask me…
  Carl White is the Executive Producer and Host of the award-winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In The Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its 10th year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturday’s at noon and My 12. The show also streams on Amazon Prime. For more information visit www.lifeinthecarolinas.com. You can email Carl at [email protected].
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