#solution to hysteria is always shower. always
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Suddenly hysterical (in a bad way????) Okay???
#solution to hysteria is always shower. always#i already made dinner so ill eat after#and maybe itll be ok..??#is this bc i had a caramel macchiato this afternoon#i never buy fancy sugary coffee#its like. a rare treat for me#i usually just go for americano or flat white. im v boring ik#BUT I SAID. oh no a trear#but that was like FOUR HOURS AGO#why am i AHHHHHH now#(this week this week this week is sm im going back to my parents house. ew. might be finding out abt that job#my boss comes back from vacation. its just alot all at once and i rlly just wanna nap#AND i didnt end up going thrift shopping today bc i got sad again and embroidered for like 4 hrs instead#what i really want is to go to the el cheapo thrift shop that isnt bougie but like dirt cheap like a proper secondhand store#i cannot get there by transit its technically in mississauaga#so i would need to borrow my mother's car#which means she would want to come#which means i cannot shop in the men's section for fun patterned button downs#BLEGH BLEGH BLEGHHHHHHHH#do u undersrand how much i want fun patterned button downs and also an old man blazer#NOTHING IN THE WOMENS FITS MY SHOULDERS PROPERLY OK#the duality of fran#if i could wear mens pants with my hips i WOULD
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All these nice excuses that they use to say “we need to invade” — but they always have them. Historical sites, Human rights, Communist threat, regime change. Take your pick, what is it this time? In the ruse of “helping” rid Africans of a problem in comes the military bases. The problem with self-determination is you accept it in totality, or reject it in totality. If it comes in the shape of Pan-Africanism or in the shape of Islamist — the principle has merit. The internal conflicts of a nation are to be resolved internally, regardless of if that internal is defined within a nation state, or as a Pan-African block. But what is cannot be is a proxy war for French and other West interest, who use an African hand to do French work.
It is no good knowing about the ills of historical colonization, if today we do not see it happening right before our eyes. The very same people who rattle on about colonization are oblivious to the processes when the details of Kenya and Somalia are laid bare. They object to the “recolonization”, but then support the wars that bring it about. They cannot see the piece by piece stages to Western interest achieving their ends, it is like boiling someone so slowly that they do not notice.
Colonialism in Black face | With Mali they say it is an African problem, so Africans have to fight –no foreign forces. They are putting a fine point and making sure they state that. Funny, who is behind it all? Who is planning it all? Who profits from it all? So they might as well let French and US troops go in and invade the place. If you put a dress on a pig, it is still a pig: Colonialism in high heels is still colonialism. But the West is smart, why waste good Western troops, when you can tell paid off African governments to skip negotiation, and go and kill each other, then the West can pick up the pieces. You will notice Algeria, one of the richest in the region, is not for it? Not that easy to buy countries who are economically secure — their price tag is a little higher.
Salafi-jihadis in Mali have got a huge problem: they chose the wrong battlefield. If this was Syria, they would have been showered by now with weapons, logistical bases, a London-based “observatory”, hours of YouTube videos and all-out diplomatic support by the usual suspects of US, Britain, Turkey, the Gulf petromonarchies and – oui, monsieur – France itself. –Pepe Escobar
Contagion: What they really do not want to have happen is for say Northern Mali to impose Sharia, and people see it work better than imposed democracy and the rest of Islamic Africa start thinking: “um maybe we should try that.” It is critical they make it fail, before it can even grow. This is also true for South Africa and Zimbabwe, what was most dangerous about Zimbabwe was the example it laid. Neighboring South Africans started saying; “we can do that to, it worked for them.”
Gaddafi fought for freedom in Africa
Fighting them over there, so we don’t need to fight them here has been a core tenet of American foreign policy for decades, especially since 9/11. But trying to apply military solutions to complex political and social problems has regularly led to unforeseen consequences. For example, last year’s U.S.-supported war in Libya resulted in masses of well-armed Tuareg mercenaries, who had been fighting for Libyan autocrat Muammar Qaddafi, heading back to Mali where they helped destabilize that country. So far, the result has been a military coup by an American-trained officer; a takeover of some areas by Tuareg fighters of the National Movement for the Liberation of Azawad, who had previously raided Libyan arms depots; and other parts of the country being seized by the irregulars of Ansar Dine, the latest al-Qaeda “affiliate” on the American radar. One military intervention, in other words, led to three major instances of blowback in a neighboring country in just a year.
THE NEW g-D is D-mocracy
Man has devised terrifying physical weapons of destruction and in our concern with them, we are apt to neglect the equally dangerous weapons of psychological destruction; the cynical use of mass hysteria, the emotional conditioning of millions, for no purpose than the Power of a few–John Hammond
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Dying, Surviving, Living
{AN: There are three places within the story that mark songs that should be played. They are marked as follows: *, **, ***.}
*This is what dying feels like
He realizes it as he breathes, lungs burning with every inhale and exhale, vision blurring at the edges and mind desperately working to stay awake, alive, for one more breath, one more slow blink, just one more…
He’s left a message for Pepper, the last of his energy fading as he watches the slow creep of space, the icy cold of it pressing against the glass.
There’s no way out of this, he knows.
This is what dying feels like.
“Mr. Stark? Hey, Mr. Stark!”
His eyes flutter open with a sigh. He wasn’t really asleep even though he’s exhausted, he’s too worried about going to sleep and never waking up. It’s probably the kindest way to die, but there’s some primal part of him that screams to fight, to keep breathing, even as it burns.
Through hazy half drooping eyes he squints at the figure crouched next to him.
“Hey! You know Mr. Stark, you should really get something to eat, you don’t look so good.”
A tired smile curls his lips and he sighs, nodding. “Probably right about that kid. Nothing left to eat though.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry Pete, it’ll be okay.”
Peter smiles at him softly, kindly. “Sure it will Mr. Stark. Especially if you attach that coupler to the filtration unit from your suit and use it to recycle the air in here.”
Eyes widening, Tony stares dumbly at him and then collapses back against the hull of the ship, laughing. It’s tinged with hysteria and feels too loud, but it’s a release valve for the grief and anxiety that’s been welling inside him for days.
“Quit talking to the dead Stark, we’ve got work to do.”
A foot connects with his shin and he looks up, glare sliding away into confusion when he sees Nebula standing over him with a disgusted look.
Peter is gone….which makes sense, as he was never really there to begin with.
It hits him again, that the kid is dead and it’s fault and he wants to vomit and scream and curse, or maybe just die because then he wouldn’t have to feel this agony.
Nodding, he takes the hand Nebula offers him, grimacing as he goes lightheaded and his heart squeezes in his chest painfully.
As they walk away, he feels ghostly fingers on his neck and shudders at the whisper he knows only he can hear.
Don’t give up Mr. Stark, I need you
This is what dying feels like.
---------------------------------
By some miracle they cobble together the parts from his suit to the air purification system and within a few hours it’s noticeably easier to breathe. There’s still nothing to be done about the lack of food or water, but he’s been studying the life support systems and he thinks he might have a solution soon.
“What if we filter the waste system and purify it into potable water?”
He hums, “Not a bad idea kid,” he agrees, avoiding the look he knows Nebula is shooting him.
So what if he’s seeing and hearing Peter? He’s going to die and if it means he gets to have him around, well, he’ll take it. Even if it does leave him guilt ridden and sobbing when the kid does disappear.
He’s never gone long, maybe a few hours at the longest, and Tony can’t write it off as oxygen deprivation anymore, this is just him, going straight up crazy.
He tried blocking Peter out for all of an hour, chest aching as the kid asked in a soft, wounded voice what he had done wrong. After that he had decided being crazy was better than being alone.
He and Nebula fiddle with the waste filtration system for hours until finally, it’s producing clean, drinkable water. The first glass they share is warm, tastes a little like greenery, but it’s still better than nothing.
Tony tears up when they drain the glass, his thirst raging to life in the back of his throat. It’s like a desert, aching for relief but for now he ignores it. The system needs to cycle a few more times and he’s exhausted, so he heads to the little nest he’s created, draws a blanket around himself and watches the universe slip past.
He wonders if Pepper’s even alive to get his message, if anyone he knew and loved is left.
“You look tired Mr. Stark, why don’t you rest?”
He sighs and rolls his chin to find Peter reclining against the opposite wall, concern on his kind young face. He smiles at the kid, heart aching with how much he misses him and his pop culture references and wide eyed enthusiasm for just about everything Tony says or does.
“Hey kid. Was going to sleep now, that sewage filtration idea of yours was a good one though, thanks.”
“Sure Mr. Stark! Why don’t you close your eyes, I’ll keep watch.”
Tony would protest that it isn’t possible for him to keep watch, that he’s not real, but he’s so tired he can’t even form an argument so he closes his eyes and sinks down.
A moment later he feels fingers running through his hair and he leans into it, tears rolling from behind his closed eyes.
“I miss you Peter.”
“I’m right here Tony.”
No you’re not
He doesn’t say it, but it’s heavy in the air between them.
This is what dying feels like.
-----------------------------------------------
It’s entirely by luck that they make it back to Earth. They come upon an abandoned ship floating through space and after a quick inspection, Nebula deems it travel worthy. They’re lucky enough that it has a warp drive that they utilize to get back in just a few hours.
They guide the ship to New York, the lightless, lifeless city below sending a shiver over his spine. Steve stares at him in shock, and then they’re lurching towards each other into a rough embrace, tears rolling down both their faces.
They’re a ragtag group, and their newest addition is a woman out of time, convinced that the way to beat Thanos is to go back, change things before they ever happen. He’s too tired to argue the possibility of creating a time anomaly, so he just nods along, eats his food and works on his suit.
He wanders the compound late at night, drinking too much, talking to Peter and wishing it had been him who had died instead. The kid is always close by, murmuring to him ideas for the suit or offering opinions on the fight to come.
If anyone notices the fact that Tony’s drinking too much and talking to a dead kid, they don’t say anything. Steve hesitates the first time he catches it happening and then asks nonchalantly what Peter thinks about trying to make Loki an ally when they go back.
After that there’s no question that despite the oddness of the situation, Peter is there to stay.
This is what surviving feels like; numbness, desolation, grief so deep it’s like a fathomless ocean.
Dying was better.
---------------
They succeed, miraculously, in going back. It’s startling to see himself looking so young, but soon they’re battling the Chitauri and capturing Loki and removing the mind control Thanos had placed him under, and then it’s on to the next step of the plan.
“Duck Mr. Stark!”
Tony dodges a blow from one of Thanos’s minions, barely missing being decapitated before Steve is lunging in and shattering its skull. They share a brief appreciative grin before they slide into combat once more, soaking to the skin in blood.
It stinks, sticks and dries uncomfortably, and when he’s in the shower, he scrubs his skin until it’s raw and red and still, he doesn’t feel clean. He collapses onto the tiles below him sobbing, gasping for air, arms wrapped around his middle, desperately trying to hold himself together.
Ghostly fingers brush against his forehead, and when he looks up it’s into Peter’s kind eyes, soft with concern and affection. “Just breathe Mr. Stark, just breathe,” he whispers, pulling Tony into his arms and holding onto him as he sobs.
“Shh, it’s ok. I’m here. Just breathe.”
This is what surviving feels like.
-----------------------------------
“You need sleep Mr. Stark.”
He nods. Takes another sip of whiskey.
“Sure kid, once I’m done here,” he agrees tonelessly.
Fingers brush through his hair and he can see him, from the corner of his eye, more real than he has any right to be, watching him with concern.
“Please? Come to bed?”
Tony swallows hard, shivers running over his skin as Peter’s hand covers the back of his neck, slim fingers brushing against his skin softly. Heat builds at the touch and he leans into it unconsciously, sighs when Peter’s thumb rubs soothing circles into his jaw.
“C’mon Tony, lets go to bed.”
So he does.
He follows his ghost to his bedroom and orders FRIDAY not to let anyone in and strips before crawling into bed, headache throbbing away behind his eyes.
He smiles when fingers brush his forehead, soothing and gentle. A kiss to his temple has him curling towards Peter, aching for more of the gentle touches. It’s wrong, he knows, to want Peter like this, even if he was real, it would be wrong—age of consent be damned.
He’d always made sure he brushed off the hero worship and the too long stares the kid sent his way—he’s fucked up, but he’s not that fucked up...right?
Peter’s hand tilts Tony’s chin, warm brown eyes smiling at him before he leans down and presses his lips to Tony’s.
“Go to sleep Mr. Stark, I’ll keep you safe.”
He does, with Peter’s fingers raking through his hair and his quiet voice humming softly a tune that Tony knows, but can’t remember.
---------------------
“I’m just saying! Should we really be relying on a guy who’s talking to a dead kid?”
The room goes silent, tension in every body as they all either studiously look away or glance over at him.
He can’t even blame Rocket, as weird as it is to say, because yea, he’s not the most stable, but he’s holding it together. And that’s all he has to do, keep holding on until they get everyone back.
Once he gets Peter back—and Pepper—he reminds himself forcefully, it’ll all be ok again. He just has to fix what’s broke—himself included.
Steve shakes his head at the raccoon, “Tony knows what he’s doing. I trust him with my life.”
Tony looks at the other man in surprise, but nods his thanks. They’ve come a long way since he returned to Earth, but they have further to go. Eventually he gets up and leaves the conversation behind—he doesn’t actually care if they think he’s sane or not, so long as they fix this, it doesn’t matter.
“It does matter Tony...you have to hold on. Don’t let go of who you are,” Peter pleads softly as he messes with the nanites in his lab, hands shaking at the sound of Peter’s voice. It’s been a few days and he had started to worry Peter was gone.
“I’m never gone Tony. I’ll always be here for you.”
Tears blur his vision and he sobs, curling in on himself as Peter’s arms wind around his shoulders and pull him into his chest.
His lungs feel like they’re shredding, copper heavy on his tongue as he bleeds out inside, heart cracking inside its cage between his ribs. He wishes he could rip it out and leave it on the floor, useless broken thing that it is.
This is what surviving feels like.
---------------------
It takes all of them to fight Thanos, the battle bloody and ruthless, but eventually they kill the mad Titan and take the gauntlet to be destroyed in the same place it was made. The stones are destroyed, despite Strange’s wariness to lose them—convinced they could be used for good—an idea Tony would have agreed with once upon a time.
Before Thanos.
Before Peter dissolved into ashes before his eyes.
Before he had to hear him plead with Tony—please Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna go!
Across the universe order is restored, loved ones lost return. He watches as Steve and Bucky embrace, Quill and Gamora reunite, T’Challa and Okoye...person after person...stomach plummeting when neither Pepper nor Peter appear before them.
He’s failed.
His heart turns to ice in his chest, numbness spreading through him and he leans a little heavier into Nat, her eyes wary on him, too knowing for his liking, but he can’t...he can’t do this anymore.
----------------------
** Steve decides to stay in the 40’s with Peggy—no longer a man out of time. When he offers his shield to Bucky there’s a collective moment of shock before the man nods and takes the iconic piece of vibranium, the mantle of Captain America passed on.
They return to their timeline, broken, battered and bruised and as the team celebrates he slinks away from the rest of the group, everything too loud and bright.
Surviving sucks.
The door to his quarters shuts with a soft metallic sound, the lock engaging a moment later and an order to FRIDAY will ensure his solitude. He plans on getting blindingly drunk and sleeping for a week, celebration be damned.
He chuckles bitterly; what do they have to celebrate?
Steve is gone.
Thor is gone.
Peter is gone.
The strongest, bravest, best members of the Avengers, lost, forever.
A sob hitches in his chest as his eyes burn, tears welling up. Is this surviving? He hates it. Doesn’t want it.
“Mr. Stark?”
Head whipping up, he blinks through his tears and finds the familiar figure of Peter Parker, sitting on the edge of his bed.
Smiles tremulously.
“Hey kid, glad to see you’re still with me.”
Peter’s brow furrows, “I...I mean, yea, of course Mr. Stark, always.”
Tony manages a weak smile and pours himself a drink, sips the burning liquid and shudders as it spreads through him.
“Are you—should you drink like that?”
Tony snorts and turns back to the kid, “I’d say I earned it, don’t you think? Saving the universe and all?”
“Yea, but, why are you still not happy?”
Tony half sobs and stares at him incredulously. “Happy? Kid, how could I be happy? You’re gone! Dead! And the only reason I’m seeing you is because I’ve finally gone flat out fuckin shit house crazy!” he shouts, “Do you get it? I’m broken! I-I’ll never be Iron Man again. I’m done!”
Peter stares at him, aghast, confusion and hurt staining his face. “Mr. Stark…”
“No! No...I can’t Peter. I need...fuck, I need you...but if you stay…” Tony shakes his head ruefully and laughs bitterly, wipes at the tears on his face, “I’ll jump out that fuckin window someday. I can’t live not having you. I can’t remember that I failed you every time I look at you.”
He’s pleading now, frozen heart shattering in his chest as he begs his ghost to stop haunting him.
“Please Peter, please go. Please.”
There are tears on Peter’s face now too and Tony sobs, swallows down a gulp of whiskey and curses, fills the glass again with fumbling hands.
“I’m not dead.”
Tony stills for a moment and then shakes his head. “You are. This is just my fucked up mind trying to give me what I want.” He exhales shakily, “But I can’t have you kid. You’re not real.”
“Please Mr. Stark, I promise I’m real!” Peter begs, half sobbing now too.
Tony whirls and glares at him, “Stop! S-Stop torturing me!” he snarls, “I can’t love you and not have you,” he hisses, “Don’t you get it?!”
Peter stares at him wide eyed as Tony breathes unevenly, tears in his eyes once more. The kid shoots to his feet and stalks over, grabs the glass of whiskey and chucks it at the wall, both men startling at the crash.
“I am not dead,” Peter tells him lowly, firmly. Reaches out and grabs Tony’s wrist, holds on as he tries to fight. “Feel that? I’m real dammit!”
Tony shakes his head furiously, yanking on his wrist even as part of him remembers that when Peter touched him it had been like a gentle breeze on his skin—fleeting and barely there.
This is...real.
Alive
Warm
Tony stills as Peter’s hands tighten around his wrists, dark eyes gazing up at him steadily, determined.
“I’m real,” he whispers, “I promise.”
A half choked sob punches out of Tony and he tugs a hand free, shaking as he reaches out to touch Peter’s face. The boy smiles and leans into it, warm and solid and real against his palm.
“Peter?” Tony whispers hoarsely, painful hope burning inside him, and he knows, it’s either real, or he’s so far gone it doesn’t matter anymore. If he’s so crazy that he’s able to touch his hallucinations, he’s going to lock himself away in a remote location and live out his days in pleasant insanity.
“Have you ever been able to touch me before? When I was gone?” Peter reasons, likely seeing the hope and disbelief warring on Tony’s face. Some part of him appreciates the reminder to use that analytical brain of his and he shakes his head slowly, recalling every time Peter had ever touched him.
He can smell Peter now too—cologne musky and warm, the soft scent of honey and lavender from his shampoo, all things he hadn’t been able to sense before.
“I could be having a break from reality,” Tony reasons, voice hoarse and low.
Peter nods and tugs him toward the door. “Let’s see if anyone else can see me,” he suggests, “Rhodey wouldn’t lie.”
Tony nods slowly and lets the kid tow him out of the room and back towards the celebration. The remaining teammates look up, shock silencing the room and hope burns brighter in Tony.
“Can you see me Rhodey?” Peter asks, smiling at Tony’s oldest friend.
The older man nods disjointedly, a smile beginning to creep onto his face. “Y-yeah kid, I see you.”
Tony’s fingers tighten on Peter’s wrist, “Rhodes, you sure?” he demands, voice breaking on the last word. If this is just a delusion...he can’t. He won’t survive it.
Rhodey nods again and reaches out to poke Peter in the chest, bright laughter boiling out a moment later. “Yea Tones, I’m sure.”
The dam inside Tony shatters and he curls inward with a sob, swaying dangerously till Peter grabs onto him, pulls him into his arms and holds him as he weeps.
A storm of grief and euphoria devastates Tony, the reality of the young man holding him up too much for his broken heart and broken mind to handle. Peter carefully guides him back to his rooms, hushing him gently as he applies a little strength and makes Tony sit on his bed.
He strips Tony of his shoes and socks, pulls his jeans off and slides his button down shirt off till he’s in his briefs and a tank, shivering as he sobs. Peter hastily sheds his own clothing and slides into bed beside Tony, murmuring softly for FRIDAY to darken the room.
When Tony panics at the sudden darkness, sobbing and clutching at Peter, he urges FRIDAY to turn on a nightlight, low and golden around the edge of the ceiling. When Tony can see him again he settles some, arms banding tightly around his waist as he buries his face into Peter’s shoulder.
His heart breaks for his friend, mentor, love of his life really. He hadn’t known how deeply his death had affected Tony, and now he wishes he had a way to take it all away—the pain, the grief, the loneliness.
As Tony quiets slowly, he runs his fingers through his hair, murmuring soft words of affection and assurance. When Tony finally falls asleep, Peter watches him, tracing the deep lines in his brow and the dark circles beneath his eyes.
Tony had survived losing him, but at the cost of his sanity and health. He’ll make sure that Tony learns to live again, in time.
------------------------------------------
*** The sun shines down, drying out the red earth below, the scent of rosemary and lemon heavy in the air.
Tony shifts and Peter glances over at him, smiling when the older man sighs softly in his sleep, face relaxed and tanned from weeks in the Tuscan sun. He watches Tony sleep for a few minutes before turning his attention back the screen in his hands.
He’s been reviewing after action reports for the teams since he and Tony left for Italy three months ago. The UN hadn’t been pleased to receive notice of Iron Man’s retirement, nor the notice that Spider-Man would be taking a vacation for an indefinite amount of time unless an imminent global threat arose.
The rest of the team and the Guardians had things well in hand, and he wasn’t about to leave Tony.
Not now.
He and Tony had arrived in Italy just two weeks after the return of the Avengers and the restoration of the universe. Ross had tried to accuse them of being lazy, self indulgent or cowards, that was until every member of the Avengers and Guardians had threatened to refuse the call if Ross and the UN didn’t support Tony and Peter.
Faced with losing earth’s best defenders yet again, the capitulation from those in power had been swift.
A distant rumble of thunder draws Peter’s gaze to the horizon. It’s been weeks without rain, the earth so dry he can hear it cracking under his feet when he walks out into the orchard each morning, the creak of the branches in the wind dry and lifeless.
He hopes the rain lasts like they say it will, a slow steady soaking that will bring life to the earth once more.
He leaves Tony to sleep while he pads barefoot into the kitchen, his hands moving almost mindlessly as soft music plays from the record player in the other room. The house belongs to Tony’s family—the whole town really—and it’s littered with photos of his mother as a teenager, smiling brightly, laughing and dancing, and he knows it makes Tony’s heart ache to see them, but it’s a good ache, he thinks.
The roast chicken recipe is one of Tony’s Nonna’s, the picture of her and her husband watching over the kitchen—her dark eyes and wry smile reminiscent of her grandson. He sees Tony everywhere in this place—in the faces of his family and the updates he’s made to the electrical grid, to the flawless Italian that he speaks when they venture into town.
Thunder rumbles louder and when he glances out the window the clouds are much closer now. He can feel the air pressure changing, the temperature falling and a shiver runs over his skin, senses tingling. There’s anticipation in the air—of the storm to come, of all the things the future holds, and it makes him yearn for something unsaid.
Drying his hands on his shorts, he heads out to rouse Tony, a light hand on his brow and brush of his lips against Tony’s.
“Wake up Tony,” he whispers against his lips, “storm is coming.”
Tony’s beautiful eyes flutter open and a slow smile curls his lips.
“Mio caro,” he whispers, voice husky from sleep, face soft and open.
Peter smiles and kisses him again, “Hey,” he whispers, taking Tony’s hand as he rises from the patio chair and tugs him inside as the first drops of rain start to fall.
When he glances back droplets of water glisten in Tony’s dark hair and there’s a yearning, hungry look to his gaze that has nothing to do with chicken.
Peter shivers.
This is what living feels like.
-------------------------
Rain patters down on the clay roof, the air chill against the sweat on his skin, lightning flashing to illuminate the dark eyes staring back at him.
Tony breathes deeply beneath him, hands trembling where they rest on his thighs as Peter rides him, slow and steady. This isn’t even about coming, it’s a need for connection, a yearning for that feeling that comes when Tony gasps his name like it’s oxygen for his drowning lungs.
He grabs Tony’s hand and lifts it to press against his sternum, the steady thrum of his heart against Tony’s calloused palm enough to make the other man whisper his name, adoration glowing in his eyes.
He’ll never tire of that—of the way Tony looks at him, of how he holds him, loves him. It’s too hard fought for, this love of theirs, for him to ever let it go.
Fingers curling in thick curls, he leans down and kisses Tony, sharing a gasp as the action has Tony’s cock dragging over his prostate. A choked off wrecked little noise barely makes it past his lips as he kisses Tony again and rolls his hips harder, chases that sensation.
Thunder rumbles loud enough to vibrate through the walls, the tremble of it shuddering over his skin and down his spine as he arches back up, fingers pressing into the scar on Tony’s chest where the arc reactor used to be.
I love you Tony he whispers, love you, love you, love you
Tony’s head falls back as Peter leans in again to press kisses to his throat, raindrops sliding down the window panes and blurring the world outside.
He tastes like sweat and sun and lemon and Peter knows that however many years they have left together, it’ll never be enough.
He’ll always want more.
Tony gasps his name, hands desperate on his skin as Peter rolls his hips, bodies slick and hot against each other, soft cries filling the room alongside the hush of the rain.
Please, Peter, need you, please Tony whispers, voice breaking as tears glisten in his eyes. Peter hushes him gently and leans up for a kiss, soft and gentle, lips parting on moans as they move faster now, that warm familiar ache building where their bodies meet.
Tony cums inside him with a low cry, body arching into Peter’s as he half sobs, clutches at him desperately, face tucked into Peter’s neck so his hot, unsteady breaths wash over his skin.
The sensation of Tony’s release is one Peter will never get used to—it’s like carrying a piece of his lover inside him, warm and comforting and completing. Like he’s whole for the first time in years.
He didn’t know how he could miss something he had never had before he and Tony made love, but it’s that—love—that he’s been yearning for his whole life. It’s different than the love he has for May, it’s deeper, consuming, like a string has been tied under the left side of his ribs, deep inside him, stretching across space and time to where it’s knotted beneath Tony’s, and if they go too far apart, it would snap.
Lightning flashes and Peter holds Tony’s gaze as he cums too, shaking and gasping before he’s capturing those lips in his, desperate and needy as he rides out the last of his release. Thunder pounds against the stucco of the house and inside his chest, heart pounding as it begs to fly free and up into the night.
He collapses against Tony, sighing as he presses his lips to the sweaty crown of his head.
“I love you,” he whispers, barely loud enough to cause a vibration in the air, but he knows Tony hears him because his hands tighten on his skin, possessive and loving.
Il mio amore...mio caro...il mio cuore
Tony whispers it in his ear, voice hoarse, and Peter can smell the salt of his tears, hear the irregular beat of his heart, feel the warmth of his breath...every inch of him trembling with love.
Leaning up slightly he smiles softly at Tony, kisses away his tears and presses his forehead with Tony’s.
My love...my darling...my heart
This is what living feels like.
------------------------
Okay my loves, this is the story I started when I first discovered Starker, and I have to say, it’s my favorite thing I’ve written for this ship. There are three places within the story that mark songs that should be played. They are marked as follows: *, **, ***. I encourage you to listen to the songs--even if you aren’t a classical music nerd like me!! Hopefully you’ll love it, and even if you don’t I hope you gain a little appreciation for my favorite composer!
I hope you all enjoy the story and the music as much as I do!
@sluttystarker @starkerchemistryy @pantastic-peach @thebadthingshappen @ciel-mio @hpspazz @starker-4ever @w1nters-stark @foof-a-loof @confused-trash-kitten @panicdotexe @stqrker @honey-honey-darling @mariketa12 @itsmeryshipper @dramione90 @starker-flame @pretzelpoetry @seriouslystarker @starkerthanreality @ikneelbeforemygod @professional-fangirl75 @virgilismypoorshadowling @godlovesstarker @sapphicfreak @veronicashipsit @the-dark-obsidian-princess @ikneelbeforemygod @laughing-oreo @sensei-sans-sugoi @ruelukas22 @tom-starker @yourlittlemelody
#starker#starker angst#post-IW angst#starcrossedtalks#peter parker x tony stark#peter x tony#angst#loss and grief
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Flufftober Day 11: Heart
ao3 link
A warlock’s heart is not safe in his own chest.
It was an old adage, taught to every warlock child from the cradle. The fate of their kind.
Centuries of research had brought them no closer to understanding why their hearts suddenly turned to stone in their chest. Calcification, they called it. For some it happened young. A tragedy, people would whisper in the shadows, while being grateful it wasn’t them or their loved ones. Most went centuries with no sign of the ailment, only to go to sleep and never wake up.
Magnus had studied the phenomena for years, soul-sick from watching so many of his people fall ill to the ailment. It was his research that paved the way for a solution. It was both his greatest accomplishment and his greatest failure.
If a warlock’s heart wasn’t safe in their chest, they must give it away.
Eventually, entire industries sprung up. Secure facilities where a warlock could store their fragile heart. It was a cold and clinical process, leaving behind a chill that never went away. But it was better than the alternative, the ticking time-bomb of a calcified heart. Only the extremely brave (or the very eccentric) risked keeping their own hearts in their chest anymore.
The lucky ones never had to visit such places, they simply gave their heart away, kept warm and loved and cared for by another.
Magnus lived with the perpetual chill of cold storage. He had tried to give his heart away once, and it was a mistake he never intended to repeat.
The chill remained, despite the balmy heat that refused to give way to autumn’s crispness. He rubbed his hands together in a futile attempt to warm them.
“You’re always so cold,” Alec remarked, taking both of Magnus’ hands in his. Raising them to his face, he gently breathed on their joined fingers.
The warm air was a balm on his cold skin but all too soon it was gone.
Magnus smiled faintly. He never told Alec about his heart, though he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d figured it out on his own. Alec was highly intelligent, with access to the Clave’s public records on warlock afflictions and remedies. Kind and considerate as he was, he likely wouldn’t bring it up until Magnus did.
(The Clave's official position stated that it was the demon blood that caused the heart calcification. That the warlocks’ own heritage slowly poisoned the human part of their body. A punishment from Raziel himself for wielding the power that they did.
The first time Magnus had read that particular dossier, he’d set the paper on fire.)
Around them, Prospect Park was quiet, save for the chatter of the ducks along the water. Magnus took his hands back as they continued their walk, electing instead to slip one into back pocket of Alec’s jeans.
Before he could change his mind, Magnus patted at his chest with his free hand. “Well, you know what they say about the heartless,” he said with a lightness he didn’t feel. “As cold as we are empty.”
Alec’s steps stuttered in surprise. “Whoever said that’s an idiot. You’re the fullest thing in my life.”
Warmth curled tight in Magnus’ chest as his breath caught, the way it always did when Alec said things like that. He wondered if maybe, just maybe, he had found someone who would accept the safekeeping of his heart. Who would care for it and shelter it and bring warmth back into his life.
Centuries of caution held his tongue, and he said nothing as they continued their stroll through the park and eventually stopped for a magically conjured picnic lunch.
.
(Camille had laughed in his face when he presented his heart, her voice ringing like a bell as she asked him whether he was serving her dinner. The very next day, he sought out the most expensive, exclusive facility in Paris for an immediate appointment. He’d been heartless ever since.)
.
Magnus had made up his mind, and that should have been the end of the matter. Unfortunately, the rest of him hadn’t quite gotten the fire message. For decades he had pushed any thoughts of his heart out of his mind, locked them up and thrown away the key.
They rushed back over him like a torrent.
When he was curled up on the couch with a cheap mystery thriller, Alec beside him intently studying the primer on warlock magic he’d asked Magnus for. Or on a dinner trip to Portugal, the candlelight throwing shadows against Alec’s throat as he tipped his head back and laughed.
He thought about it every time they stripped each other of their clothes, until there was nothing between them but mumbled I love you’s mouthed across bare skin.
There was no escaping it.
Against all sense, Magnus wanted to give his heart away again.
.
He had it all planned. Burgers in the East Village. Drinks and billiards at a gem of a bar on Avenue B that he’d been meaning to show Alec. Lastly, a relaxing, nighttime stroll before portaling back home where Magnus would fix them both a cocktail and ask him—
“Would you be the one to hold my heart?”
And of course, Magnus managed to make a mess of it.
Water dripped in streams down his face from where he just stepped out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. The blissful heat of scalding water was already giving way to the familiar bone-deep chill.
Alec stood in front of the mirror, toothbrush in his mouth. Foam overflowed around his lips as he choked on air. Frantically, he turned the tap on, rinsing his mouth with water before turning back to Magnus.
They hadn’t even made it to dinner and the plan was in ruins.
Alec’s eyes were wide in shock and Magnus despaired.
Of course Alec wouldn’t want to take on such a heavy burden. When would Magnus stop being so stupidly impulsive? Even locked away in the highest security warlock vault money and reputation could buy, his traitorous heart managed to screw up everything.
The entire plan was a mistake. He always did this, fell too fast and too much and sent the people he loved running. And sure enough he did it again. And not in the fun Britney Spears way, he thought with an edge of hysteria. In the way that was sure to be the first fission that eventually drove he and Alec apart.
Oh, it wouldn’t happen tonight. It wouldn’t even happen this month. But surely, the weight of Magnus’ desires would become too great to bear. A stream of tiny drips that eventually eroded mountains.
The magic of his displaced heart buzzed frantically in his chest. It was a far cry from the racing heartbeat he’d never again possess, and Magnus almost crumbled.
He waved a hand, desperately trying to collect himself. “Never mind, Alexander, I shouldn’t have asked that, I’m s—”
His words ground to a halt as Alec placed a finger in front of his lips. Hovering, but not touching.
“I just—you just—I was surprised, is all,” Alec continued, a hint of color coming into his cheeks.
Magnus felt pinned in place, unable to move or speak. Is this how Alec felt that night after they healed Luke? So desperately wanting, yet fixed eternally in his own mind?
Alec’s stroked a thumb across his cheek. “You can ask me anything.”
Beyond his outstretched hand, Alec no longer looked panicked. Rather, his entire face exuded warmth and love. Hope blossomed in Magnus’ empty chest.
He let his eyes slip shut. The hand on his cheek burned like a fiery brand, cutting through his fear and his doubt. Alec had seen the worst in him before, more than once. He’d seen the ugliest parts of Magnus and still told him he was beautiful. He couldn’t understand what it was Alec saw that made him say that, but he was beginning to believe that Alec believed.
So he took a breath and asked again. “I’d like to give you my heart, if you’ll take it.”
Alec had toothpaste on his chin, but his smile was the most beautiful thing Magnus had seen. “I want every part of you. Heart included.”
In that moment, Magnus could have portaled to the moon, powered by nothing more than his love for the man in front of him.
.
The ceremony required surprising little preparation, considering how much it had changed warlock society. The final step was retrieving his heart from the facility he’d left it at over a century ago. He returned to the loft holding a specially warded box, packed away beneath additional layers of protective spells.
The magic in his chest churned in restless agitation, no doubt recognizing the heart it was tied to. It made Magnus feel restless, too. Or maybe that was nerves. He could barely remember what it felt like before he became heartless. The cold was all he knew anymore. What if giving his heart away was a mistake?
Those few warlocks that had done so described it as the height of peace and happiness to be so close to a loved one. They claimed it was a warlock’s true state to give their heart away, and that was the real reason they turned to stone otherwise. Magnus wasn’t sure he believed that, but he supposed he was about to find out.
Alec appeared in the doorway, and there was no more time for doubts.
Picking up two shot glasses from the coffee table, Magnus passed one over. If he was going to drink a foul-tasting potion, he was going to do it out of a decent glass.
“Is this going to taste as bad as that martini you made me the first time?” Alec asked, eyeing the glass and its viscous contents dubiously.
“Worse,” Magnus said cheerfully. If the night was a total disaster, at least he’d get to see Alec make his adorable alcohol grimaces.
“Lucky me,” Alec mumbled, scrunching up his face and preparing to drink.
“Cheers,” Magnus said, clinking his glass against Alec’s.
With one last look at each other, they began. It mostly consisted of Alec walking circles around Magnus as he cast a short yet intricate spell.
All too soon, it was done.
A heat blazed in Magnus’ chest where there had been nothing but ice cold for so long, pulsing as it curled around his ribs and crept down his arms and between his toes. It was a blaze he hadn’t felt since before he had paid another warlock to take his heart away, over a century ago.
Except this time it was better. His heart had found its true home.
“Oh.” Magnus gasped. and saw his awe reflected in Alec’s eyes. He could feel Alec’s presence in front of himself, the new sense as strong as the sight that showed Alec in front of him, hands cupped in front of him holding Magnus’ pulsing heart.
Judging by Alec’s reaction, the new awareness was mutual.
“Bring my heart to your chest.” Magnus couldn’t muster more than a whisper. “The magic will do the rest.”
And Alec, his brave and loving Alexander, did it without hesitation.
The magic flared yellow around them, bright and blinding. When Magnus blinked away the spots from his vision, Alec’s hands were empty. His heart was nowhere to be seen. For a moment, he was terrified it didn’t work, that magic itself had deemed him not worthy of Alec’s love.
Another wave of power washed through him and he gasped. When it passed, it took the strange sense awareness of Alec with it. There was no time to be disappointed in the loss, however, because at that moment the humming of sterile magic within his chest was replaced by a steady, familiar thud.
Magnus nearly wept.
A heartbeat. His first in so, so long. He’d been missing the sensation for such a large part of his life and had been utterly convinced he would go the rest of his days empty and cold.
He hadn’t expected Alec. Alec, with his soldier’s hands and his open heart that was big enough for two. Who looked at Magnus like he was something worth cherishing. Who warmed Magnus by his very presence.
He reached out, tentatively placing his palm over Alec’s chest. The hard muscle there was achingly familiar. Magnus had traced it with his eyes and his hands and his tongue more times than he could count. But the gesture was brand new this time. His heart now beat under Alec’s strong chest, kept warm and safe by his body and his love.
The steady thud of Alec’s chest now beat in time with his own.
“I suppose it would be cliché of me to say that you hold my heart,” Magnus said, a smile stretching across his face as the reality of what they did sank in.
Alec laughed as he pulled Magnus close, fitting their bodies together. “I’d give you mine if I could.”
A wave of emotion lodged in his throat as Alec bent to place a kiss on his forehead. Magnus was used to protecting others, and bending all his considerable power to safeguard those who needed help. He wasn’t used to the feeling of being protected.
But standing safe and cared for in Alec’s arms, that’s exactly what he felt.
#shadowhunters#malec#malec fanfic#magnus bane#alec lightwood#flufftober#sorry if this one is a bit weird#but that's what i immediately thought of when i saw the prompt#and yes for the record alec walking circles around magnus is deliberately drawn from jewish wedding traditions#he gave him his heart that's basically a wedding#lynne writes fic
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"Seriously?"
She wasn’t equipped for this. She hadn’t been equipped to deal with absolutely anything that had happened since she was fifteen. Her life had been idyllic. Growing up in the English countryside, an amicable rivalry between herself and her older sister, parents drastically in love... It was what a lot of people dreamed of. Nova had been blessed with anything she wanted: Horses, sporting tuition, a very generous amount of pocket money. So, when one of the building blocks of her perfect life was taken away the day her parents announced their divorce? She hadn’t been equipped to deal with it. Not one bit. Everything seemed like a lie. The money thrown her way was a distraction, shielding her away from noticing the cracks in the perfect relationship she had idolised. Luna was old enough at that point to have moved away from the friendly rivalry, instead proving she was the better child with prince charming on her arm. With the divorce came the move, away from the fairytale manor house she grew up in, away from having her horses at her front door. Instead she was thrown into a boarding school while her parents fought bitterly over every little aspect of their once perfect lives. And she hadn’t been equipped for it.
She certainly wasn’t equipped in living in these conditions in her present. Leaving England had been, in some way, a cry for help. Perhaps it had been a scream for attention - a ‘I’ll drop out of the University degree you were both so proud of me for doing just so you stop cooing over how excellent it is that Luna lost the baby weight so quickly’. Perhaps it had been her delayed way of dealing with the divorce itself; running away from it all like she’d longed to do back at fourteen. One thing she knew was that she had never expected to end up in Toronto of all places, having burned through all her money and with her parents too busy fighting over rights to their new grandchild to realise the situation she was in. It was a testament, really, to have naive she’d been. Nova knew she was smart, but there was such a difference between being book smart and life smart. And considering her solution to this problem had been to move in with the first guy who paid her any attention while she waited for anyone to notice she was missing? Well, that hadn’t panned out too well.
She hadn’t slept well in what felt like months. She wasn’t in love with Alex in the slightest - if anything, she had preferred Freddie’s company back when she used him to try and gain some attention from her parents. He was rough and sharp and careless. Sure, he had charm to some degree, but it wasn’t enough to patch over the little things that left her terrified of living there but with no other choice but to stay. She was certainly not equipped to fall so far into a world that made no sense to her. Her upbringing had not taught her to handle these situations, the drugs, the rowdiness, the aggression. She’d been equipped with the ways to handle pompous events, to stay quiet while the men were talking and to not open her mouth and make anyone feel dumb - that was rude.
Moreover, she was not equipped to deal with the results of the test held in her shaking hands.
She’d bought it on a whim, sent to the nearest shop for whatever the guys had requested. At the time, Nova had been more than willing to get out of there. Things were getting far too rowdy for her liking and she needed some peace and quiet and fresh air. Besides, fresh air would probably stem the sickly feeling she had - her mother had always said that too much processed food always left women like them feeling weak and nauseated. Only when she wandered down the aisle stocked with condoms and pregnancy tests did Nova stop to consider any alternative reasons for her feeling less than her best. From the moment she grabbed it to the present, sat on the bathroom floor staring at the two lines dooming her for life, had felt like an outer body experience. She couldn’t remember the walk back to the house - a walk that would usually have her on high alert and terrified that something would happen to her. She couldn’t remember how she excused herself without an argument happening. From that very second where being pregnant was a possibility to it being confirmed? Missing entirely from her brain.
The door of the bathroom opening had her jumping, staring up at the intruder with watery eyes and a still shocked expression. A moment of relief flooded through her that it hadn’t been Alex. The last thing she wanted to deal with was telling him any of this when it wasn’t quite straightened out in her own brain. Right now, her brain felt like it was constantly screaming: How could she have been so stupid? No, Dom was like a saving grace in the house. Someone she felt comfortable existing near compared to everyone else. Not that she’d wanted anyone to know, but out of everyone? Dom was certainly the best option. Besides, maybe he didn’t know. With the lock broken on the bathroom door, it wasn’t unusual to walk in on someone in there. And who really stopped to linger when faced with someone in the bathroom? Sure, she wasn’t sat on the toilet or drying off after a shower. It was a little weird to be sitting on the floor - somewhere that potentially hadn’t been cleaned for longer than she’d been there. And she was fairly sure her cheeks were tear stained which was a dead give away. Nevermind the horror movie jump scare reaction she’d had from a simple door opening...
But there it was. The acknowledgement. The confused question.
Even with the test having jumped out of her hands and clattered across the floor, Dom knew. If it was negative, she wasn’t going to be sat there in shock with tears streaming out of her uncontrollably. No one wanted to be in this position: Homesick, dating someone only so she wasn’t on the streets and now pregnant with said someone’s kid. No one in this position would be so distraught over not being knocked up and faced with countless decisions about where to go from two lines on a pregnancy test. So, of course he knew. He wasn’t dumb or ignorant or someone who missed out on the small things like Alex. Dom was smart and in tune with people in a way that Nova was both grateful for and irritated by in that moment. Irritated because she hadn’t had time to even process it before more than just her knew about it. Grateful because she now had someone who could help her deal with this information and processing it and letting her know her options so far from home.
As she swallowed thickly, Nova nodded softly and brought a shaky hand up to wipe at her cheeks. She didn’t cry in front of people. It wasn’t a pride thing, but more of a pathetic little installment of her upbringing. It wasn’t ladylike to be so blatantly emotional in front of people. Ladies didn’t air their dirty laundry with emotions written all over their face. And while Nova had always thought that sentiment was stupid, she had been grateful to know that she had been trained to carry a mask with her always so her thoughts never translated to her face. After inhaling a slow, shaking breath, Nova opened her eyes again and met Dom’s. “Come in and close the door?” She asked, voice sounding far stronger than she truly felt in that moment. It was mostly a safeguard - preventing anyone else from walking in and finding out the secret. But it was also a selfish begging request to not be alone right now. That was the last thing she wanted - to sit in that bathroom until she’d pulled herself together and managed to hide the pregnancy test and its box away from prying eyes. No, she needed friendly company to stop her mind from working overdrive and driving herself into hysteria.
When the door clicked closed, Nova shifted to lean back against the wall, her eyes following where the test had skidded across the floor to next to the sink. Immediately, her hands sunk into her hair, the silence of the room feeling like it was growing like humidity every second. It felt like there was no oxygen, her skin felt clammy, her mouth had this horrific metallic taste and god she couldn’t stop shaking. Maybe her mask wasn’t quite strong enough to shield her thoughts in this moment. The strength she’d had just moments before was gone, stripped from her now she was back in the closed bubble of a room and confronted with the latest demon she had to face.
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
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I’ve Survived (AU): Part 1
Note: Sooo this is an alternative universe for Endless Summer. Since I read the idea of @cheesepots for AU (this one x), it has been stuck in my head. I had to let it out in some way. This was the result, It's the first time I write something like this, I hope you like it!
She had spent the whole day with a strange feeling, she was very irritable and volatile, anything could unleash her bad mood, and things only worsened. The temperature increased one degree with every minute that passed, the air conditioning despite being at its maximum power wasn’t enough to calm the heat. As if that was not enough, the bustle of the city didn’t contribute much either. At least every half hour the sirens of an ambulance disturbed the little silence that was obtained from time to time. Apparently, the new seasonal virus wasn’t as passive as the ones they had each year. She just hoped that the allergy that had been bothering her early was not related to that.
The murmur of people talking was despairing, couldn’t people live without speaking for more than 5 minutes? Also, if she heard the siren of another ambulance or a patrol, she would go crazy. Music was the perfect solution for that problem. Boredom was something easier to kill. It was enough to open the book which was in her backpack. That was how she was isolated in a room that was full of people. She was trying very hard to justly block everything around her. That's why at first she didn’t notice it.
By times, the noise surpassed the volume of the music. Out of the corner of her eyes she vaguely noticed people were moving from one place to another. But at a certain point, the noise stopped being intermittent and became constant. And then every time someone passed by her he would crash into her, or trip over her feet.
The girl raised her head to see what the hell was happening to these people. She swept the whole place with her eyes and instead of men and women who chatted animated, she found worried faces, frowns and fear. Some moved restlessly, and others kept peeking out of the windows, but not one of them seemed happy with what was saw. She paused the song, at that moment if she wanted to find out what had those people so agitated. However, she only had a second to listen before the madness and hysteria took that place.
That's when the real chaos began.
The glass in the windows and the door exploded at the same time in a shower of sharp splinters that embedded itself in the skin of everyone it encountered.
The screams took her by surprise, even though it was what anyone would have expected in a similar situation. The panic wasn’t long in coming, then the screams were accompanied by bodies colliding with each other, in an attempt to reach the exit. The warm smiles of earlier had dissolved into bleeding lacerations and cordial handshakes into shoves. Everyone there had the same goal, they wanted to go out as possible.
The girl took her things and kept them as she could. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew that by the front door she couldn’t leave, at least not immediately. With the amount of people crowded there, it would take at least 5 minutes just to get close to the door. And she wasn’t willing to wait for it to be that it had caused the windows to strike again.
Against the current, she headed towards the back. Between nudges and pulls she managed to get through the crowd of people. The employees had left their posts to try to bring order and calm to a crowd that wasn’t interested in what they had to say. A few, the most intelligent, were heading towards the back of the premises, looking for another possible way out. She didn’t have to think twice before following them, if anyone knew the place, they would end up guiding her to an exit, if not, she would have to improvise, almost any window was a good door.
She had to run a little to avoid losing the boy she was going after, crossing a series of corridors, turning in some corners and opening a couple of doors before reaching the exit.
When she got outside, the light that radiated from the sun blinded her, while the heat of it struck her mercilessly. For a couple of seconds her senses were unable to perceive anything beyond the whiteness of the light, it was as if she were in a bubble. After the initial bewilderment, the world around her was taking shape little by little. Her eyes adapted to the lighting gradually and the noise enveloped her suddenly.
If someone had told her what she would find outside, she wouldn’t have made the slightest attempt to leave the building she’d been a few minutes before. Because everything outside was 10 times worse.
Everything around her was a total disorder, people ran terrified from one place to another. And the noise, the noise was almost overwhelming. Not only were sirens and screams, they were also cars running at full speed, honking and crashing, the blow of metal against metal, the cracking of broken bones, outbursts of violence and people hitting each other.
Her eyes couldn’t settle on one thing. The confluence of so much disaster stunned her, for a few seconds she wasn’t able to move and just stood there. The scene was so unreal that it gave her the feeling of being inside a movie.
Her stupor dissolved when someone pushed her as she passed. The shoulder received the greatest impact when it hit the wall. A wave of heat spread all over her arm and shortly after the pain accompanied it. The other person, a girl she could see, didn’t stop or even turn to see who had pushed. The girl only caught a couple of piercings, a shaved side of head and a black jacket fluttering in the wind before the stranger disappeared with the same haste with which she had arrived.
She didn’t know what was happening, but one thing was for sure, she had to find a safe place to take refuge. And it must be soon. Around her there were only stores with broken glass windows and the few which still kept some part intact, were immediately destroyed by people trying to take what was inside or by others who were crashed against them. She knew one place that in spite of the conditions could resist that madness without any problem. Only to get there would have to go through the center of that hell.
Without stopping to doubt another second, she ran as fast as she could. She slipped through the narrowest alleys in order to avoid the center of chaos. She also waited patiently on some occasions until it was safe to move forward. Always alert and vigilant.
The muscles in her legs began to ache and with each step she felt that her knees would give way and she couldn’t take another step. The lungs cried out for a rest. And her heart was beating so hard inside her chest that she could feel every one of its movements. She was a couple of streets from the place, and until then nothing had stood in her way. She had avoided being distracted by what was happening around her, she couldn’t have made out anything between the blur of colors that passed by her even if she had tried.
In the last corner she stopped again, a couple of meters more and would be there. The street was relatively quiet. She saw some fleeting shadows move between the buildings, but what predominated there it was an identical chaos to the places she’d left behind. The same low murmur of unintelligible words. The cars continued abandoned in the middle of the street and others shattered after a crash. Belongings left behind in the middle of the flight. She was about to leave where she was hiding when she saw him.
Under ordinary circumstances she’d not have even taken a second look in his direction. Although she convinced herself that she did it because afterwards that wasn’t normal, she knew there was something else. It was a difficult feeling to explain, something inside pushed her, even though she didn’t know him, she only knew that she had to help him, even when the instinct of self-preservation shouted at her to get away.
Perhaps she’d regret what she was about to do, but there was no going back, she’d already left the security of the place where she’d stopped, moving in the boy's direction.
He was being beaten. A man was on top of him pressing him to the ground, dropping punches on him without mercy. The boy writhed and stopped them as best he could, but still it was not enough. His mouth was already bloody and the skin of one of his cheekbones was acquiring a purplish, painful-looking hue.
The girl scanned the place in search of something that could be useful to her, she knew that only her forces wouldn’t be enough against that beast of irrepressible anger, she needed something that could be used as a weapon. After several seconds, she found a metal bar, took it and immediately went to the rescue.
"Hey, leave him!" She screamed, but the man showed no signs of having listened to her and kept unloading blow after blow on that poor boy.
She didn’t waste one more of his words, instead swinging the bar in an arc that reached the subject in the stomach. Unlike what she expected, the man didn’t stop, but then he’d noticed her presence. When he turned to her with eyes injected with rage, she hit another blow again, but this time in the head.
The man collapsed to the side, finally leaving the boy free.
"Are you okay?" The girl asked between gasps and offered her hand. The boy looked at her and then at the man lying next to him. There wasn’t much to think about, but even so he hesitated. "Come on, we have to get out of here." She told him, this time with a smile. The doubts dissolved on his face and the boy took her hand.
"Where are we going?"
"Just follow me." Having said that, she started running again towards the hunting tent, which was her goal from the beginning.
The momentum with which they went didn’t allow them to stop in time and they practically crashed against the door. She went to turn the knob only to find it closed.
"Damn!" She muttered under her breath.
"So, what do we do now?!" The boy asked with a note of panic growing in his voice.
A howl silenced them and both turned. The man who only a few minutes ago lay unconscious on the floor, was standing. His eyes fell on them and as soon as he recognized them, he began to run in their direction.
"What the hell did you do to that guy?!" Panic also leaked into her voice.
"I didn’t do anything! You were the one who hit him!"
There weren’t many alternatives of refuge, at least not one that was close. She started banging on the door.
"Lila! Open the door!" In general, the owner of the store was there at that hour, finding the door closed was not what surprised her, but the fact that it didn’t open." Lila!" She called again.
The man was less than ten meters away from them, and was approaching progressively, if they stayed there much longer he’d reach them. The girl turned her head in all directions, looking for something desperately, but the only structure that remained intact was the one in front of her, with the doors closed.
"There's nobody there! We have to go, he's getting closer." The boy started to pull on her arm. She turned again, the man was much closer than she had expected. Reluctantly, she allowed him to push her away from the door. Although where they’ll go, that was something she wasn’t clear about.
They had only moved a couple of steps away from the door when it was opened. Their options were practically nonexistent, so it was pretty obvious what they should do.
Once they were inside, whoever had let them pass secured the doors and shortly after something crashed into it.
She slid down the wall until she was seated. In each inhalation the air burned during its entire journey, and with each exhalation it felt as if it was suffocating. The air that entered her lungs didn’t seem to be enough, it was a thirst that couldn’t be calmed no matter how deep her breaths were. In her chest began to spread a sharp pain with each insufflation.
"Are you okay?" Someone asked from above, raising her head she found the boy looking at her worriedly.
"Yes, well." She managed to say, although just saying those words took more than she thought it would.
The boy looked skeptical.
The girl’s hair was a mess for obvious reasons. The braid she’d done painstakingly that morning had been undone a while ago, hair that didn’t fall on her face, was pointing in any direction or even still entangled in the league.
The dress she wore had been torn apart in some places, as a result of the race or perhaps because she’d stuck with something. At the time she’d not noticed, but some glass splinters were still embedded in her arms. And in a trembling hand, she still held the metal tube she had used in the street. Some dried blood droplets were scattered in it, there were a few in her hand as well. She left the tube against the wall. The conditions she was in did not support what she’d just said, and in truth she wouldn’t have believed herself. Although it was she who saved him when that man was attacking him, now it was she who seemed to need help.
"I've been better." She opted for something more sincere, and with a shy smile she reached out and continued, "I'm Sophie, by the way. You?"
"Diego." He took her hand and helped her up. The smile of impeccable white teeth he gave her illuminated his face, and with that, the gravity of his wounds seemed to diminish considerably.
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To Know About Neti For Mind And Memory
Neti
Neti is a technique used in the cleansing of the air passages in the head. The neti is an integral part of Hindu shatkarma, which is a logic system for body cleaning techniques. The main types of the neti are: Jala Neti uses water while sutra Neti uses a string.
Neti pot is a container that is designed to irrigate the nasal cavity. One can use Neti for treatment of nasal allergies, colds, and sinus problems. It is believed that the use of Neti pot is more effective in nasal allergy and sinus problems than other over the counter medicines.(To Know About Neti For Mind And Memory)
Benefits of Neti
Neti clear away all the bacteria and dirt filled mucus from deep within the nose.
It works by draining sinus cavities. This helps the body to reprogramme its natural mechanisms against infections such as allergies, sinusitis, hay fever, and the upper respiratory problems like painful throats, cough, inflamed tonsils and adenoids.
Neti is beneficial in asthma and bronchitis as it decreases the propensity of the asthma patient to breathing from mouth by making the air passage clear by removing mucus.
It gives a cooling effect on brain by removing the excessive heat, and hence it is beneficial for headaches, epilepsy, migraine, temper tantrums, depression, hysteria and general mental conditions.
It is beneficial with the problems that affect the eyes. It helps flush the tear ducts and encourages the clear vision.
It is beneficial in certain type of ear problems such as tinitis, glue ear, middle ear infections.
Neti helps in restoration of lost sense of odor, and thereby helps with the taste and digestive processes.
It has a good effect on the pineal and pituitary glands that control the hormonal system. This has an integrating effect on emotional behavior.
Neti helps in awakening higher states of meditation by affecting the psychic centre.
It stimulates the power of visualization and increases concentration of mind and gives a feeling of lightheadness and provides clarity to the mind.
It also helps smokers to give up smoking.
Types of Neti
There are mainly two types of neti: Jala neti and sutra neti.
1.1 Jala neti kriya
In jala neti is used for cleansing sinus passages with the help of warm saline water.
Method (Stage 1) jala neti
If a person wants to perform nasal cleansing, he can do it over a sink, on a bowl on a table, inside the shower. Procedure to be followed to perform neti is as follows.
Fill the neti pot with warm water neither to hot nor to cold. The temperature of water has to be suitable for pouring in the nose.
To check the temperature pour a bit on your arm or taste it and then spit to check its temperature. Water has to be a little hotter than warm. Pure water is best for performing neti.
Mix one teaspoon of salt in half a liter of water. Maintain the tonicity of the water and make it isotonic (0.9%) solution as it is same as human blood. Sea salt is best for this purpose. Mix the salt thoroughly in water.
To check the correct mix and temperature, taste a little water and then spit it. It will not to be as salty as sea water, adjust the salt concentration if not correct.
Place the nose cone in the right nostril, and sealing it after a few twists and slight pressure.
Put the spout straight up in the line with the nasal passage so that the tip of the nozzle will not get blocked inside the nose. Breathe gently through mouth.
At this time, do not sniff, laugh, talk, swallow or do not have any kind of movement through the nose while water is flowing through it.
Now slowly bend in front from the waist so that the tip of the nose will become the lowest point of the head; slightly tilt the head to the right, so that left nostril will become the lowest point of the nose. Tilt slowly so that water will not come out of the top onto your face.
Keep the cone of the neti vessel fully sealed into the right nostril so that it doesn’t leak. Keep the breathing on while the water comes through it.
Wait a few seconds so that water should run out of the left nostril. Keep breathing through the mouth slowly. After the water starts to run, wait about 30 seconds so that half of water in the pot to flow right to left, After that remove the pot and stand straight.
Before going on other side, Blow out air gently through both nostrils to clear mucus and water from the nose.
Repeat the steps, with nose cone entering the left nostril and the flow of the water is from left to right. After the whole liquid finished, stand up and blow out gently through both nostrils and then prepare to dry out the nose.
If after performing above steps, still any mucus blockage remain then repeat this whole process again several times until it get clear. Even after this, if your nose doesn’t get clear than it is recommended that you visit the family physician to ascertain if there is some kind of structural blockage in the nose.
Drying the Nose
Forward bend drying of the nose properly is very important part of this practice. Don’t neglect this part. People suffering from high blood pressure should be careful while doing this part. If dizziness occurs while using neti the nose, drying should be done standing upright. .
First bend towards forward from the waist and do head upside down with the nose towards the floor that will help any residual water to remove from the nose. Then the nose is to be pointed towards the knees. In each position, breathe in from the mouth and breathe out from the nose 10 times.
Then resume the standing position and do some fast breathing through the nostrils. Breathe 10 times through both the nostrils together with more emphasis on the exhalation part. Then do 10 rapid sniffing breathes again through both the nostrils together. If you feel that there is a chance of having some water in there than repeat the whole process again. It is important dry nose properly as it may manifest the symptoms of cold for some hours, or in some cases it may cause sinus problem.
Jala Neti Stage 2
The second stage of Jala neti is called as sinus bellowing, or Vyutkrama kapalbhati. Before attempting, the second stage it is always advisable to master the stage one which is a simpler version. This stage should be performed in a teacher’s supervision on the first few attempts.
While the water is going from one nostril to other, it is gently breathe backwards and through out of the mouth. One should not swallow any water when they sniff backwards, although it’s not dangerous.
When performing vyutkrama kapalbhati, stage 1 procedure has to be followed for first one potful of water, and then on the second full pot is done in more advance way. It is not essential to dry the nose completely between the 2 stages. The nose has to be dry completely after stage 2, as more water flow from the nasal passages.
It may cause serious irritation for some time if nose is not dried completely. Vyutkrama kapalbhati neti works target more on clearing out the posterior sinus passages which stage 1 not able to reach and it is more effective than stage1 for sinusitis, post nasal drip, snoring, chronic catarrh, coughs, thyroid imbalances.
Stage 2 (b)
Inhale water separately through each nostril and through it out of the mouth than do both simultaneously.
Do not consume; to avoid infection dry nose completely.
Stage 3
The third stage is called sheet karma kapalbhati is more advanced or is even more difficult. In this stage, salty water is taken inside through the mouth and then blow out from the nose. It may be a little problematic in the starting. The benefits are more or less similar but this is more effective than other forms of neti. It is done after stages 1 & 2. The drying of the nostrils are very important and should be done properly, this stage is always should be performed in the supervision. (To Know About Neti For Mind And Memory)
1.2. Dugdha Neti - Neti with Milk
In Dugdha neti, milk is used in place of water, pre-warmed to body temperature, It is suitable for those person who suffer from chronic nose bleeds or those who get irritation from the use of salty water. Milk Neti is done in case where the nasal lining is already irritated, for example in case of sanding plaster.
It is best done after warm salty water is used in stage 1 and 2. Unlike the water methods, the milk does not need to flow from one side to the other. It fills the inside nostrils and it is then removed. Once in each side is sufficient. Milk neti is performed for specific conditions and even in those conditions it should not be performed excessively. (To Know About Neti For Mind And Memory)
Pre-warmed milk, warmed to body temperature is used in place of water, It is appropriate for the person who suffers from chronic nose bleeds or those who have sensitivity from the use of salty water.
Milk neti is used in case where nasal mucosa is already irritated, from the sanding plaster. For best results use it after warm salty water is used in stage 1 and 2.
2. Sutra Neti - Nasal Cleansing Using a Cord
This method is used very effectively for clearing the nasal passage to the fullest capacity. In sutra neti a cord made of cotton threads or a rubber catheter is inserted in the nose through one nostril and then it is removed from the other. The cord is gently moved to and fro for some time, removed and then interweaved through the other nostril and out of the mouth again. When one has enough practice, the cord can be passed from one nostril to the other. (To Know About Neti For Mind And Memory)
Sutra Neti can be of a very great importance, and it is very much recommended for those who tried jala neti for some time and persons who find that most of the time the same nostril is blocked. Some time there is a problem like some kind of fleshy obstruction such as cartilages.
Instead of a medical operation, Sutra neti is possible alternative for removing these blockages. Firstly one should try to succeed with the different forms of jala neti using water, and if this not able to clear blockages, a proper medical examination is needed to know the cause of the structural blockage. Sutra neti should be learned in the guidance of an experienced person.
Before and after performing sutra neti, it is recommended to rinse the string either in warm water or in case of specialized cases medicated oils. Then place it straightly to dry. In case of polpys, deviated septum or other diseases related to nose consult to the ENT specialist.
The string of sutra neti is slowly and non-mechanically inserted along the floor of the nasal cavity. Nasal cavity is narrow at the top and it is widest at the bottom, it is like a roof. Hence keep the string straight positioned towards the back side of the throat, a little towards downward and slightly inward so it will go smoothly inside the back opening of the nose.
The aim is to pass the string through the valve at base of the nose inside the upper back of neck where it can be easily grasped by the help of middle and index fingers of the other hand and then it is pulled back and forth giving a gentle massage. Repeat this process few times as long as it is comfortable and stimulating. (To Know About Neti For Mind And Memory)
Care should be taken so that you won’t experience any pain at the time of insertion. If you experience any pain, it is because of going too fast or the string is pointed in the wrong side, or it is scratched the nasal wall, or there may be some other obstruction. If the condition likes this arise and twist the string in one or other direction until a clear passage from the cave is found.
It is advisable to keep the tip of string smooth while keeping a little downward direction of the tip throughout the insertion, So that while going under the medium bottom lip of the nasal pharyngeal valve at the entrance to the throat, it points downward toward the mouth.
It is not always necessary to grab the string with the fingers and pull it back and forth through the nose. One can achieve benefit up to 99% by simply passing the string up in this nasal- throat valve while gently massaging the nasal membranes which stimulate the powerful nerve which in turn serve the whole cranium. This entire process can be performed in less than ten seconds after practicing. (To Know About Neti For Mind And Memory)
A copious mucous flow is activated, so keep the good supply of tissues handy. Take your time, slowly and gently easing the string forward; enjoy the cleansing effects and always breathing deeply. For best results perform sutra Neti after rising in the morning with other cleansing morning activities.
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