#What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke?

[red-jaebyrd]

Best of you

Part one - Fight or Flight

This sequel fic was inspired by this post by @hood-ex. Thanks for the inspiration, Emily.

It had been a week since Dick, Damian and Jason had gotten back from the Fortress of Solitude. Fourteen days since Bruce had shipped them off to the Fortress to recover from their injuries. Fifteen days since Bane had beat up each of them within an inch of their life and hung them by their necks in the Cave.

Once the boys had made it to the Manor and into their own familiar surroundings they had remained in each other’s sights. Neither of them ever leaving the other alone, they were completely attentive to one another. No one had questioned it or commented on it. Even if they had, Dick didn’t care. Both of his brothers needed him and he was going to be there for them in any way he was capable. 

Jason had moved back into the Manor temporarily. He told Dick it was just until Damian started to feel safe again. But Dick knew Jason needed to be around them too.

Dick knew it was just an excuse to stay in close proximity to them. He didn’t call Jason out on it, because truthfully, he liked having Jason around. He liked knowing that Jason was close and safe with them, instead of somewhere outside Gotham in a safehouse alone.

Dick’s concern for Damian increased within their first week back at the Manor. Damian had always practiced hypervigilance when it came to his surroundings whether he was on patrol or in the Manor. It had been part of his training with the League and in turn had become a part of his personality. But ever since the incident with Bane and the hanging, Damian’s hypervigilance had morphed into paranoia. He always insisted on triple checking every room he entered and was jumpy to the touch.

After the first week back Dick and Jason had eased his burden by taking on the first and third room checks. This helped some, but Damian still flinched with every hand on his shoulder or back.

The three of them weren’t on patrol duty yet as Bruce had benched them for three weeks to heal from their injuries. Dick played Cruise Director by organizing activities for both himself and Damian leaving room for Jason to tag along, which he often did. Dick made sure to schedule in exercise to keep their muscles conditioned and downtime either in the library or the media room.

Lately much of their evenings were spent together in the media room watching a movie. On movie nights Dick and Damian always sat together on the couch in the center. Alfred the cat and Ace the dog would always follow them into the room to provide their own brand of comfort. Jason preferred to sit in the back of the room where he could keep a close watch on his brothers and the closest exit. He had even brought in a small table to use as a gun cleaning station.

On movie nights Damian had always fallen asleep first. It wasn’t surprising considering the dark circles under his eyes and his quiet demeanor. The teen hadn’t been getting much sleep at night since they had gotten back from the Fortress. On their first night back Dick had been ripped out of a deep sleep to the sounds of screaming and crying coming from Damian’s room. Adrenaline had torn through Dick’s chest as he frantically rushed to reach his little brother’s room.

The sight of his little brother clawing at this neck and gasping for air had ripped Dick’s heart apart. It had been a sight he had hoped he would never have to see again. Instinctually Dick had climbed into the bed and held Damian close to him whispering reassurances into the young teen’s ear. Damian’s whole body trembled as he clung to Dick like a life line until his sobs turned into hiccups. Dick had finally allowed the adrenaline crash to overtake his body forcing him to curl up in the bed with Damian and fall back to sleep.

After that night Dick had suggested that Damian sleep in his room. He had expected Damian to put up a fight; argue staunchly that he wasn’t a child who needed the comfort of an adult after a bad dream; that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. However, to Dick’s surprise, Damian hadn’t the energy to argue. Instead, had just nodded, grabbed his duvet off his bed and followed Dick into his bedroom. 

They didn’t tell Bruce or Alfred about the nightmares.  Damian had made them promise. But Dick knew that Bruce could hear the screaming too.

Dick knew that if there was ever going to be any healing from this incident, especially with Damian, they all needed to talk about what had happened to them. Of course that was easier said than done. Dick knew better than to think that the other two would go for it. Jason would stop coming around to avoid sharing his feelings and Damian would shut down and refuse to talk. Ideally Dick would need to be the one to initiate the conversation to get them to open up.

Truthfully, deep down Dick didn’t want to talk about what had happened to him either, but he knew he had to for Damian’s sake. The boy was spiraling quickly before his eyes, turning into someone Dick didn’t recognize and it was starting to scare him. Dick had to do something even if it involved dredging up old memories of a time in his life he would like to stay buried and forget.

Except Dick couldn’t forget what had happened because now he had fresh rope burns to accompany the old scars from the last time a rope was fastened around his neck. Thanks to Bane those old memories that had once been buried were now fresh and new every time he closed his eyes to go to sleep. Old triggers Dick once had under control were now at the forefront of his mind eliminating any progress he had made in the last three years to overcome them.

Dick had just started wearing scarves again this past winter. He had missed the warm, familiar feeling of the handmade scarf Barbara had made for him all those years ago. The way the soft fabric would protect his neck from the cold onslaught of an unforgiving Gotham windchill. He loved that scarf and it was a welcome relief to be able to start wearing it again, but now that had all changed. Right now he could barely tolerate wearing a crew neck t-shirt.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Bane had one of his goons cover Dick’s nose and mouth while Bane had hung Damian first and then beat the shit out of Jason. He had made Dick watch helplessly as his brothers suffered while leaving him to slowly suffocate. Dick had started to panic when he couldn’t breathe and clawed at the meaty hand covering his nose and mouth, but the bastard had held firm. Dick’s lungs burned as he gradually lost consciousness just as Bane had strung up Jason. 

No, Dick didn’t want to talk about any of this stuff with Damian and Jason. However, he knew he had to if he was going to help his brothers heal. This was another reason why he encouraged movie nights, and hoped maybe one of these nights Damian would open up.

It had been a week and Damian had barely said anything more than two word sentences to either Dick or Jason. Bruce had tried futilely to get Damian to open up to him, but soon handed the reins of communication back over to Dick. The irony of Bruce trying to get Damian to open up wasn’t lost on Dick. The more Bruce pushed Damian to talk, the more Damian shut down further frustrating Dick.

Dick was positive that on one of their movie nights Damian would eventually open up. He wasn’t rushing it, but Dick had hoped that Damian would start to feel relaxed and comfortable enough to talk; and to Dick’s surprise it had worked.

“I never did have the tolerance to withstand the chokeholds from my trainers,” Damian muttered completely out of the blue one night. He kept his eyes on the TV screen and his hands stroking the sleeping cat on his lap.

“You’re not…” Dick cleared his throat, nearly choking on his soda. “…you’re not supposed to have a tolerance to strangulation, Dami.”

“I am. It was part of my training and the only skill I couldn’t perfect,” Damian continued, pulling at the collar of this shirt. “One time Mother had a trainer hang me with a rope. It was so tight it dug into my neck and I panicked like I always did when something was round my neck,” Damian choked out a sob at the last word.  “I asked her to call it off, to make him stop but she ignored me. I eventually blacked out. I woke up in my chambers with rope burns around my neck and a migraine. She said I was a failure; that tears and whinging was a sign of weakness; and therefore a disgrace to the Al Ghul legacy.”

Dick put his arm around Damian. He could sense where this conversation was going; that there was some unresolved guilt for actions Damian was incapable of stopping that horrible night. The boy turned into the embrace leaning into Dick’s chest.

“You are not a failure, Lil’ D. There is nothing you could’ve done to have stopped what had happened to us.”

“I was trained to be the best, Richard,” Damian insisted, gripping Dick’s shirt. “I can fight blindfolded. I can manipulate my organs to avoid major injury, I can even hold my breath for six minutes, but I could never stand to have anything around my neck obstructing my airway. I was not good enough.”

“You are the best at everything you do, Dames,” Dick comforted, kissing the top of Damian’s head. “Your mother’s standards  don’t matter here.”

They watched more of the movie in silence. All that could be heard was Damian sniffling and the occasional thud of Jason cleaning his guns.

“I used to get nightmares about it. Feeling the rope tightening around my neck and not being able to breathe,” Damian confessed, tugging at the collar of his shirt again. “Now the nightmares are back and I cannot get them to stop.”

Dick’s whole body tensed at hearing Damian recall the feeling of the rope around his neck. His palms started to get clammy as he remembered Super Woman’s barbed lasso tightening around his own neck as he struggled to breathe and stay conscious. Dick still had the scars from the barbs sinking into his skin. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Now was likely a good time as any to share what had happened to him.

“Me too, kiddo. I get it, but talking about what happened helps. For me that…that wasn’t the first time I had rope tied around my neck either,” Dick shared, rubbing his hands nervously along his thighs. “There was an incident with the Crime Syndicate a few years back. Super Woman, an evil, twisted version of Wonder Woman had a lasso; she called it the ‘The Lasso of Submission’. It stung and burned when she tightened it around my neck.”

Ace climbed up on the couch next to Dick. Sensing Dick’s distress, he put his head in Dick’s lap. Dick welcomed the added weight of the dog and dug his hands into Ace’s fur. The sensation helped to ground Dick so he could continue.

“It wasn’t an ordinary lasso. It not only had the power to make its subject submit to the wielder’s will it also had magical barbs that sunk into skin and held the lasso in place,” Dick pulled down his shirt collar to reveal old white faded scars that peppered along his neck among the healing rope burns from two weeks ago.

Damian’s eyes widened at the sight of Dick’s neck.

“I couldn’t wear scarves for three years and I still can’t wear turtlenecks,” Dick confessed, righting his shirt collar.

“Turtlenecks make you look like a douche…no offense,” Jason chimed in from behind them.

“Thank you for the fashion tip, Jason,” Dick sighed, craning his neck to address Jason.

“Anytime, Dickie,” Jason replied, not taking his eyes off the task of cleaning his guns.

Dick turned his attention back onto Damian.

“Thank you for talking to me about what has been bothering you,” Dick whispered, squeezing Damian into a sideways hug. “I know it wasn’t easy, but talking it out helps to get the bad stuff out of our heads.”

Damian shook his head.

“Talking about my past with the League serves no purpose other than to showcase my weakness and my inability to maintain control over my emotions. Complaining about past events that I cannot change feels futile and pathetic,” Damian said, his voice cracking at the last word. “However, lately those past experiences are all I can think about since the incident with Bane in the Cave.”

“Talking about difficult experiences and working through the trauma caused by those experiences is not a sign of weakness, Dames,” Dick comforted, keeping his arm around Damian and leaning his cheek on top of Damian’s head. “It takes a lot of strength to admit that you need help and the support of your family to help you through this time. I’m always here to listen and help you in any way I can. Okay?”

“Okay,” Damian replied, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Silence fell between the brothers again while the rest of the movie played on. It had surprised Dick that Damian would bring up something so personal about himself in front of Jason. Still Dick was proud of Damian for opening up. It had only seemed fair that Dick reciprocated with his own fears and nightmares. Perhaps it would help encourage Damian to open up more with him in the future.

“Is the kid asleep?” Jason asked, making his way to the couch.

Dick looked over and could see the slow rhythmic motion of Damian’s chest rise and fall as his breaths came in deep and even. He could also hear the soft sounds of snoring and feel Damian’s body completely boneless leaning against him.

“Yes,” Dick answered, feeling the shift of the couch as Jason sat down next to him and Ace.

“It’s good that the kid has you to talk to about this,” Jason said, gently petting Ace’s head. “Lord knows he’s not going to talk about this shit with Bruce.”

“You have me too, Jason,” Dick assured, nudging his elbow against Jason’s ribs.

“I know, Dickie,” Jason answered, grabbing the Blu-ray remote and thumbing through the main menu.

“Do you want to talk?” Dick asked.

“No,” Jason answered, keeping his eyes focused on the TV.

Dick nodded. Jason would open up when he felt like it. At least Dick hoped Jason would one day talk to him about the hanging and how it was affecting him. Dick wondered if that was why Jason had asked if Damian was asleep.

“Did – did the League train you –,“ Dick asked, motioning to his throat. “-for that too?”

Jason looked at him with blank eyes but Dick could see the muscles working in Jason’s jaw. Jason turned his attention back to TV as he continued to fiddle around with the main menu options until he found the ‘Special Features’ menu.

“No, but Willis always liked going for the neck,” Jason responded candidly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, you didn’t do it,” Jason retorted.

“No, but, I’m still sorry that happened to you,” Dick empathized.

Jason kept his focus on the TV and swallowed thickly.

“I was supposed to wake him up so he could leave in time for a job. ‘7’clock sharp you little shit, or we don’t eat for a week,’” Jason’s lip curled in disgust retelling his story. “He was out cold and wouldn’t wake up. I had to get on top of him and shake him. He woke up in a rage and I wasn’t fast enough to get out of his way. He grabbed me by the neck and squeezed hard until I saw spots.”

Jason paused to pick at a loose thread on the arm of the couch. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I remember clawing and scratching at his hand to get him to let go. It only pissed him off and made him squeeze harder. He finally let go when Mom hit him over the head with a frying pan. Never woke him up after that day, but it didn’t matter. He always went for my neck.”

Dick didn’t know what to say to Jason, which was rare considering Dick always knew what to say to everyone. He knew Jason’s dad was an abusive drunk. Jason never talked about his time with his parents before coming to the Manor only vague stories of his experience living on the streets. This was the first time Jason had ever opened up about his dad. It was probably better to just state the obvious since empathizing only pissed Jason off.

“Your dad was an asshole for doing that to you,” Dick said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah well, others have done much worse,” Jason said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dick didn’t need to be reminded. He lived with the guilt every day that he wasn’t there to protect Jason from the “much worse” and the guilt only grew in intensity as he glanced at the angry red rope burns on Jason’s neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick mumbled, his bottom lip trembling.

“Why do you keep apologizing? It’s fucking annoying. You didn’t do anything,” Jason snapped.

“Exactly, I didn’t do a fucking thing the whole time that asshole beat the shit out of you and Damian,” Dick blurted, glancing at Damian’s sleeping form. The sleeping boy stirred and shifted his position away from Dick to lean against the couch arm. Dick lightly carded his fingers through Damian’s hair.

“I didn’t do anything but watch as he strung up both of you in the Cave by your necks,” Dick continued, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. Ace whined and put his head back in Dick’s lap.

Jason turned sideways on the couch so he was facing Dick and gently placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder. The contact was welcome, but Dick didn’t feel like he deserved it.

“Stop, Dick, is this about Bane? You couldn’t do anything. I don’t – do you think we blame you for what happened?” Jason asked, tilting his head to get Dick to look at him. “This wasn’t your fault. Why are you shouldering this?”

Dick choked out a sob before catching himself. One hand reflexively reaching into Ace’s fur, with the other he scrubbed the wetness from his eyes with his sleeve.

“I couldn’t protect you – again,” Dick muttered, tears streaming down his face. “It’s my job to protect my brothers, all my brothers. I couldn’t do that for you or Dam –“

“- because that Motherfucker had his goons restraining and smothering you,” Jason interrupted. “Bane knew it would fuck you up to have to watch.”

It was true. Bane was a genius when it came to mentally and physically breaking his adversaries. He knew he could destroy Dick just by having him watch Damian and Jason get hurt. And by all accounts Bane achieved his objective. As much as he tried, Dick couldn’t get the images of his brothers’ bruised faces and beaten bodies out of his brain. Not to mention the guilt of being unable to do anything to stop it was eating him alive.

“I know you want to protect us, Dick. I know you wanted to be there for Tim. We all did, but even you have your limits,” Jason continued. “You can’t shield us from everything. Shit happens with this life and this job. We signed up for this. We chose as a team to defy the Bat and go after Bane. How were we to know we’d be walking into an ambush? Fucker’s a menace.”

Dick shook his head and clenched his jaw.

“I know what we signed up for,” Dick countered, pointing at his own neck. “I have all the scars to prove it. But I didn’t sign up to not feel safe in my own home. I didn’t sign up to hear my youngest brother screaming every night from a nightmare, clawing at his neck and gasping for air.”

Or see that my other brother is unable to go to sleep by himself without all the lights on. Dick kept that last statement to himself.

“I didn’t sign up for that,” Dick repeated, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed, leaning his head back on the couch and blowing out a breath.

“I’ve never heard you talk about the Crime Syndicate before,” Jason said, changing the subject. “Was that – was that the first time you told anyone what had happened to you?”

Dick nodded and curled in on himself. It wasn’t a pleasant incident to think about, much less discuss with anyone even if he considered them to be a safe person and Jason was safe.  Aside from the trauma of having a barbed lasso around his neck and getting smothered to stop his heart to diffuse a bomb; there was also the shame of falling so easily into their trap and the indignity of having his identity exposed to the world. It was easier to just keep the humiliation and trauma to himself.

“I thought it would help Damian open up and – ,“ Dick answered, petting Ace with both hands. “I probably should have talked about it sooner. But –,”

“- you thought it would be easier to just keep things to yourself,” Jason said, finishing Dick’s sentence. “I get that, but Dick, I know you. You need to talk things out and you didn’t talk about this to anyone? Not even with Alfred?”

“I couldn’t –,” Dick repeated, shaking his head.

“You know you have me right? if –if you ever wanted to talk,” Jason offered. 

Dick couldn’t believe what he was hearing from Jason. It must have shown on his face because Jason’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead in surprise.

“What?” Jason asked. “What did I say?”

“Jason, I know you and you hate talking about feelings and stuff,” Dick responded, tilting his head and furrowing his brow.

Jason briefly shifted his attention to the TV pointing the remote and turning it off.

“I hate talking about my feelings,” Jason gestured to himself. “But I know you need to get that shit out or you’ll explode.”

“Thanks,” Dick replied, giving Jason a small smile.

“So, do you want to talk?” Jason asked, reaching for the nearly empty bowl of popcorn sitting on the ottoman.

Dick considered the offer. It meant a lot coming from Jason. Jason didn’t offer himself like that to just anyone. Dick had overheard Jason giving Tim the same offer a few months ago. He wondered if Tim was able to take him up on that offer before – before he died. There was no doubt Dick would one day take Jason up on his offer, but not tonight.

“Rain check?” Dick asked, leaning his head against the couch and rubbing his eyes. “I’m pretty beat.”

Jason nodded. He turned the TV back on and began scrolling through Netflix. Dick closed his eyes and started to let himself drift allowing the pull of sleep to overtake him.

“Just promise me you’ll never keep shit that big to yourself again,” Jason said, breaking the silence.

Dick opened his eyes and sat up; an idea quickly coming to his head that would also benefit Jason.

“I promise, but you have to promise too,” Dick countered, holding out his hand to seal the deal.

Dick could see the wheels turning in Jason’s head. His eyes widened as he realized that Dick had just tricked him into agreeing to do the very thing he hates, talking about his feelings. Jason’s shoulders sagged.

“Fine, we have a deal,” Jason huffed, shaking Dick’s offered hand. “Don’t get any other bright ideas.”

“You know, if we wake Damian we can probably get him in on the deal too,” Dick joked.

“Don’t push it, Big Bird,” Jason said, throwing a handful of popcorn at Dick.

[shittylongcatposts]

A/N: hey guys, i'm sorry that i'm kind of inactive this week... I just don't have the time and the right mood atm especially after this evening. Anyways! I needed to rant about something a little bit and ended up writing more than planned. Mostly because i just want some jumin cuddles.

Ehm ... I'll also hide it under the cut, there are some swear words, and it's... It gets a little bit sad.

For Jumin's three week vacation you both decided to visit your family. You missed them all so dearly that seeing them, after everything that happened in the last months, made you cry rivers. When you first made plans, Jumin told you to book a hotel for the both of you, but when your mother heard that you wanted to spend your vacation in your hometown, she invited you to stay at her home. The guest room she prepared looked lovely and when Jumim opened the door to it for the first time he gasped. It looked like a hotel room, the duvet lay perfectly on the bed, the towels ontop were folded like birds or swans (your mother showed you how to do this once but you always forget how to actually do it).

A few days later, you nearly introduced Jumin to the whole family. He got to know your mother, your grandparents and some of your aunts and uncles and last but not least your father.

He came by your grandparent's home when you all sat on the patio enjoying a cup of the same old Cappuccino that you drank when you visited them after school. The one that your grandmother used to serve exactly at 3pm and always three cups of it, one for you, one for your "Öpimöpi" (grandpops) and one cup for her.

Now, after many years, there was another cup placed in front of Jumin's place, who quietly looked around, enjoying the view into the garden, listening to the silence of the town you once called your home. The birds sang and he could hear cars driving down the main road in the distance. The pigeons on the roof sang their song. It was beautiful! And then he heard steps.

It was your father and your younger brother. Before you could even jump to greet them both of them pulled you into a tight hug, and while you hugged your father, Jumin noticed that tears began to build up in your beautiful pair of eyes. But with a quick dry swallow they were gone again. As if nothing ever happened you started chirping again, playfully joking with your little brother. Dancing around and chasing each other through the garden, oh how lovely you two looked.

But throughout the whole evening the young man noticed that neither you nor your father exchanged a lot of words, only here and there a few sentences, a quick walk through the gardens, but you didn't tell him that much. Only about a few things that happened around here and some small exciting news in his life. (He offered his help a pregnant woman to renovate her house)

Your little brother however talked a lot with him, and with you. That little boy seemed to be quite charmed by the stories his sister shared with him and how you met Jumin.

When you finally slipped under the blanket that night Jumin tried asking you about the situation. However you kissed him good night, trying to please him with a "it's fine, I promise, Jumin. Let's go to bed, ok?". And with that you turned around, pretending to be asleep. Jumin knew it wasn't fine, but he also didn't want to pressure you, so he pulled you closer and tried not to worry too much about it. Only seconds after Jumin fell asleep, tears streamed down your face, you couldn't hold them back anymore.

Another few days later you decided to visit your old gymnastics training, it felt good to see all the familiar faces again. That one little granny you liked a lot, the other one who always forgot your name and especially your trainer. She hadn't changed a bit, and still enjoyed torturing the attendees of this course. When the torture ended you jumped into the car your mom lent you with wobbly knees. You started the car, turned onto the street and drove the way you so often drove down when you still lived here.

Down the long street, onto the main road and past the only ice cream parlor of this small town. You drove further and suddenly you saw two persons out of the corner of your eyes. They walked down the road and one of them looked pretty familiar. It was your father. Next to him stood the young woman with the baby resting in a kind of baby towel. They both ate ice cream and even though you only saw them for a mere second, you felt a sting in your heart. The last thing you saw in the corner of your rear view mirror was your dad, laughing, probably joking around with her. He made that weird step to the right, that thing he always did when he had to laugh while he was walking.

It hurt so bad to see him like this. Because you wished you were the one he just told his crappy joke. You felt your heart breaking into pieces, and wanted to cry so badly, but you could only sob, trying to concentrate on the road.

The minute you opened the door and slipped into your shared bedroom you collapsed on the bed. Jumin, who just watched you come in, quickly put his book aside.

"Darling what happened?" He asked, one hand rubbing over the small of your back, the other trying to put some of the loose strands behind your ear.

"I'm a failure, Jumin, that's what happened. I just… I can't hold it back anymore." you whined, and for the first time Jumin watched you crying, not because of anger or joy, no, because your heart was broken. He didn't know what to do or say, wishing he could tell you that you were the love of his life and not a failure to him, that he loved you no matter what happened. But he couldn't speak, a big lump in his throat silenced him, and stole his voice. Instead he continued to stroke your back, always reassuring you that he was still there. When your sobbing got worse he pulled you into a hug, softly placing kisses on the crown of your hair.

"Mc, i don't know what happened" he whispered, finally finding his voice again "But you are not in the slightest a failure. You are the most precious human being on this earth…"

"Shut up Jumin, I know I am, I fucked up. Look at my father, he can't even spend time with me, but with everybody else. That was the case and it always will be like that. Why doesn't he want to eat a fucking ice cream with me! I just want to be able to talk to him for god's sake."

"Shh… Mc, you're upset I get that, but I'm sure that's not how it is." He tried to calm you. Pulling on his pajama shirt, your eyes red from crying, you looked up at your boyfriend, letting him see how broken you were.

"Jumin, it's always been like that, since I was six, my dad and I lost each other and never found each other again. I love him with all my heart but it hurts so much sometimes."

The young man pulled you tighter to him, cupping your cheeks with both of his smooth hands. His thumbs rubbing away the tears that still streamed down your face.

"It's going to be ok, my princess, I promise." He kissed you again, this time his soft lips brushed the tip of your nose.

"Maybe we should talk to him tomorrow? I can come with you if you want to - I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding, darling."

You didn't want to, but you knew Jumin was right. You should talk with him. Tell him how you feel, how much you 'suffered' all these years. Rubbing the last few tears away you nodded. Jumin's fingers brushed over your shoulder wandering further down to squeeze your hand. "Thank you Jumin. And I'm sorry I got so… emotional."

"You know that you can tell me everything, my dear. I want to help you in any way possible and I really wish to stand right beside you at all times." He smiled softly. With a sigh you leaned into his chest, listening to his heartbeat always calmed you down. His breath evened out and while you both enjoyed each other's presence the steady sound of his breath and his beating heart let you finally fall asleep.

[tenmillionwhumperflies]

Cloudwalker Series Part 19

This is fine, I didn’t need my heart anyway. Hope you like this one. It’s funny that I got an ask about the cloudwalker venom, because this one will sorta explain why Dyan’s venom didn’t show itself easily. That little ask is here. I’ll explain properly at the bottom of this post.

Warnings: Contains blood, treating injuries, mention of threats of disfigurement and teeth whump. There’s also a lot of emotional numbness and mention of child (very young cloudwalker) whump.

Master-list Here

Word Count: 2200

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

Dyan sat on the edge of the bed in a perfect haze, completely stunned by everything that had happened in the course of ten minutes. He’d barely acknowledged that Blue had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Orrien’s panic wasn’t quite registering even though a small voice inside was screaming at him to react, to do something.

But there was just… nothing, no strength in him, no breeze to fly on, no emotions left to pour. He was dried up, stale, empty… He was too caught up in the wave of fear that was only now catching up to him. There was the gut-wrenching realisation that he’d gotten into a fight with that cloudwalker. He had bitten. So many awful things were bound to happen because of that. He’d be punished, everyone would be so mad. He was violent, he’d snapped, and now he was dangerous. That only meant bad things. That was the threat that had lingered over him if he’d ever bitten or fought anyone or anything.

Now there was no going back. Even if it had been a short fight, it had been terrifying and violent, and Dyan hadn’t had a clue what to do. His instincts were gagged, smothered from always living with humans. He didn't know how to fight. All he knew was that he had to protect Blue with everything he had. He just couldn't let Blue suffer. He slowly looked down at himself, seeing the wounds that had been left behind, feeling the pain of each and every one of them. He looked and Blue and whined, lowering his wings. This wasn’t fair, then again, they were cloudwalkers. Nothing was fair.

Dyan dragged his gaze away slowly when he heard someone coming up the stairs, it was Avizon, with Ihuka following, ready to catch him. Avizon froze at the sight of him, staring at his wounds. Ihuka sat down in the corner out of the way, watching them all with concern. Dyan gulped and bowed his head, not entirely sure what to expect.

“Dyan… What in all the realms happened?!” he exclaimed, limping forward and kneeling in front of him. He cupped his cheek and brushed the hair out of his face. Dyan couldn't help but flinch, even if it was a delayed response. Everything was so sluggish, muffled, foggy. He didn't know how to snap out of it, if he could, but he didn't want to. The distance was better than feeling the fear…

“They were attacked by a wild cloudwalker. I think it thought Blue was a human, so tried to save them. Dyan got into a fight to protect him. They’re both startled and in a bad way,” Orrien explained. Dyan appreciated the help. “Bad...“ Dyan mumbled. “Dyan?” Avizon frowned, “Little bird, talk to me...”

But Dyan was lost in his mind, he needed a few moments to piece together exactly what had happened.

Avizon tried to get Dyan to look at him, but there was a distant fog in his eyes, he wasn’t completely there. For a moment he looked through Avizon rather than at him. Avizon gave up with a soft sigh and stroked Dyan’s hair.

Dyan looked down at his bloody hands and stared. “I was… really bad, master,” he whispered. “I bit again...” Avizon’s gaze went up to Dyan’s horn, the area where it had been sawed off because he’d bitten a man.

Avizon held his hands out and Dyan inched closer until he was in Avizon’s arms, leaning forward so much he slipped off the bed and sat on the floor in front of him. Avizon kept him close, but Dyan didn’t cry, he didn’t sob and beg as he usually might. He just sat, staring at his hands. Avizon gently rubbed his back and wings.

“Why do you think that you’ve been bad?” Avizon asked quietly.

“B.because… I got into a fight… fighting bad. Trainer always told me...” “Trainer?” Avizon asked, confused until a thought hit him “Oh, the people from the ‘zoo’?” Dyan nodded slowly. “Biting bad… fighting bad… Not being good gets you sent away. G.gets your nails burned and your teeth blunted a.and you go in the box a.and...” Dyan’s lip started to wobble, and that was the most emotion he’d shown ever since he’d gotten here. His hand went up to his head but then dropped back down.

“Deep breaths. Remember, you’re not there anymore. It’s alright. You were protecting Blue. I admit, I didn’t think you had it in you, but I’m glad you did. You’re a good bird... Talk to me, let this all out, don’t keep things bottled up. You need to process this.”

Dyan wiped his bloody mouth on his arm before he dared bury his face in his master’s chest, but he didn’t hold him. He didn’t want to get him covered in his blood when he didn’t really have any other clothes. He just sat stiffly, and the emotion soon faded away again.

“Ihuka, a cloth. Cloth?” Avizon tried to instruct.

“C.cloff...” Ihuka thought hard, trying to figure it out but he didn’t know that word, so Dyan mumbled a translation. Ihuka rushed off and sure enough, returned with a cloth and a bowl. Avizon praised him tenderly.

Dyan was quiet again as Avizon gently cleaned all the blood away from his hands, face and arms. He still bled, but Dyan hadn’t been paying attention to that blood. Avizon carefully pulled him close, but it didn’t feel possessive. “What happened, Dyan?”

“We were playing,” he mumbled. “‘t was fun, I got to feel water for the first time," a shadow of a smile appeared on his lips but then it was gone again. "A.and we got back onto the shore and got dressed and then this cloudwalker was just… there. He attacked Blue. Ihuka tried to help, but he got pushed away. I don’t remember jumping or flying, but I must have… I.I just had to get Blue away from him. I had to help him… but it hurt… h.he was so mad and he… it just hurt."

“He was able to get its attention off of Blue and onto him,” Orrien added. “As you can see, it was a hell of a scrap. I had to catch him and Blue both before they both dropped out of the sky.”

Avizon stared at him in surprise. “So the canary does have some falcon in him...” “‘M sorry,” Dyan whispered. “You… you probably don’t want me anymore… no one wants a bad bird...” Avizon hugged him a little tighter. “I’m proud of you, Dyan. You faced your fears to save Blue.”

Dyan shook his head. “Bad… always bad… I.I don’t want to go in the box... O.or lose my horn...” “You’re not going anywhere. Shhhhhhh, I’ve got you, you’re safe. Focus, Dyan. It’s all okay.”

Orrien eased Blue onto the bed to sleep. He took a moment to stroke the hair out of his face. Then he got up, approaching Dyan.

“Will you let me fix these?” he asked gently. Dyan hesitated, “But I...” “You don’t deserve to hurt,” Avizon said before he could even get his sentence out. Dyan flinched under his challenge. “You don’t. You are a good bird- the best. We can stay a little while until Blue wakes up and calms down tomorrow. I’ll go back to the castle alone for a day or two if I have to.”

Orrien started to clean the wound but it intensified his already stinging pain until it made Dyan cry and cling to Avizon. It was just too much for him. He was scared and tired and sore but still he had to suffer more and more. He forgot about the blood, he didn’t care. He just wanted comfort which Avizon was willing to give. He clung to him as best he could. “I’m right here, you’re safe… Shhhh, I know, I know."

Avizon held him patiently until Orrien had healed or bandaged all his wounds. Dyan had gotten sleepy during that time, hiding deeper and deeper in his own mind. He’d learned with Erix how to escape from his body for a little while and he couldn’t help but do that again. He was running out of strength and all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep to disappear from it all for a while. But he wasn't allowed to want anything, but despite telling himself that so many times all he yearned for was to hide in a soft blanket and be held by someone who cared about him- to be held by Blue so they could protect each other.

"M.May I sleep on the bed with Blue?" he mumbled softly, barely even realising he'd said it out loud. Avizon stroked his hair, "Of course you can. I'm going to pick you up, brace yourself."

Dyan let out a little whimper as Avizon scooped him in his arms with a grunt and lifted him up and onto the bed.

"Your leg," he murmured. No, no, no, he couldn’t be the reason his master got even more hurt. Everything he ever did was bad, why did master, keep him? Why did he insist that he was good? Despite his fear and frustration, he was too drained to panic.

"I can take it,” Avizon ground out as he eased Dyan on the bed beside Blue.

Avizon helped him onto his side and guided his arms around Blue so he could hold him. Dyan adjusted himself so he could cover Blue with his wing. Avizon gently ran his hand down the wing. “You’re a good bird, but now you need to rest. Sleep, Dyan.”

Avizon turned to Ihuka, checking him over for wounds but Dyan wasn't looking. He was staring at the awful scars on Blue's back. So violent, and jagged. They'd healed badly and Dyan could almost feel the pain he'd endured. He groaned and buried his face into Blue's back. Seeking comfort. He cuddled in close.

"D.Dyan?" Blue suddenly murmured. Dyan whimpered as Blue managed to slowly turn to face him. Dyan lowered his gaze. 

Blue didn't say another word. He just reached an arm over and hugged him close. Dyan released a breath he hadn't realised he's been holding and snuggled against him again. Everything faded away except for Blue holding him. He felt warm, welcome. It was different than when his master held him. Dyan covered him with his wing again and didn't realise until it was already done that their legs had tangled together slightly.

Despite how numb he felt, Blue's comfort was enough to make him fall asleep and escape for a little while.

_____

"They've grown very close over the last few days," Orrien observed. He gestured for Ihuka to go to bed but he shook his head. Orrien tilted his head to show his confusion at the little bird. He patted the bottom of the bed to see if he just didn't want to interrupt Blue and Dyan but still he shook his head.

"Keeping watch, are you?" Orrien mumbled. "Alright, but here."

Orrien grabbed some spare pillows and blankets and put them on the floor next to Ihuka, who promptly began to make a nest to get comfortable on, but he didn't lie down to sleep. His nose twitched.

Avizon sighed, making Orrien look up. "Nocturnal… he probably can't sleep, not after that." "Then we'll leave him to it. They've all had a difficult time."

"Dyan looked so lost…" Avizon mumbled, making Orrien's heart sink. "So confused and distant." "I know," Orrien said gently. He too had noticed. "I've seen that look on you plenty. He left the present, faded off into his own mind. I'm hoping a good sleep will be enough to entice him out of it."

"He did perk up with Blue at least," Avizon said, he looked down at his hands and frowned. "I wish he could have done the same for me…"

"In his mind, you're his master, he was bad and you deal out punishment- even if you wouldn't. He was clearly thinking back to old memories, he wasn't able to realise that you only wanted to help him. He still took comfort out of holding you, I could tell."

Avizon nodded slowly, but he looked defeated. But it was good to see he actually wanted to help. 

"I can't help but wonder if there's more to them than friendship," Orrien admitted. “It’s very possible,” Orrien said, “But there’s no way to be sure. We’ll just have to keep an eye on the situation.”

Avizon pursed his lips, “if that is the case, I won’t stop them. But I am worried. What if that bird that attacked them, perhaps they are part of that resistance we were talking about?”

Avizon looked down at Blue and Dyan fast asleep in bed, holding each other close. Ihuka was comfortable in his corner, but he looked tired and somewhat miserable. Avizon stroked his hair gently, “I wish I could speak your language so I could help you...” Avizon sat down beside him, but he was surprised to find that Ihuka leaned his head against him. Perhaps he also wanted comfort and company.

Avizon looked down at him with curious concern. “Good bird… get some sleep. You don’t have to protect them, that’s my job. Sleep...” Avizon gently put his hand on Ihuka’s forehead, encouraging him to sleep rather than forcing him. Ihuka soon faded off into sleep.

Then there was quiet, as everyone was left to recover from their terrifying ordeal.

So yeah, real quick, the reason Dyan wasn’t producing venom was literally because he has never bitten and never used the venom (which cloudwalkers are meant to use like every other day to hunt), so his body was just kinda shutting down his venom glands. That ask isn’t cannon, but it does mean that Dyan’s body doesn’t really produce venom like Ihuka can.

[toughgirlchallenges]

Nadhira Alharthy - First Omani Woman to summit Mt Everest (2019) and First Arab Woman to summit Mt Amadablam (2021).

In May 2019, Nadhira Al Harthy became the first Omani woman and the second Omani to climb Mount Everest. 

  The inspiration for wanting to climb Mt. Everest was meeting the first Omani man, Khalid Al Siyabi who summited in 2010. Nadhira was so inspired by his achievement, that she decided in 2017 that she too wanted to climb the highest mountain in the world. 

  Up until this point Nadhira was not sporty and was not really that active, she was starting everything from zero. She had no knowledge of the mountains, and had never been climbing before. Nadhira gave herself two years to gain the skills and knowledge needed to achieve her dream. 

  Khalid, was now a good friend and had become her mentor and trainer. He designed her physical training plan and had her running, hiking, climbing and lifting weights as well as working on her mindset. 

  Nadhira kept all of this a secret from her friends and family and only told them two months before she headed off to Nepal in 2019. Whilst at Everest base camp, preparing to summit, she heard the sad news that Khalid, her trainer and mentor had suffered a stroke and passed away. Dealing with this loss, Nadhira decided to continue on with her summit attempt and wanted to reach the top to celebrate the man who had inspired her. 

  Nadhira reached the summit of Mt. Everest of the 23rd May 2019, 9 years to the day after Khalid had summited.

  Nadhira is one of a growing number of Arab women who are following their dreams of climbing mountains despite resistance from their families and society. Nadhira continues to inspire other Muslim women to step outside their comfort zone and to try new things, many of whom have now been encouraged to participate in outdoor sports after hearing her story.

  Her next goal is to climb all of the 14 mountain peaks across the world that stand taller than 8,000m, dubbed by NASA as the Eight Thousanders.

  New episodes of the Tough Girl Podcast go live every Tuesday and Thursday at 7am UK time - Make sure you hit the subscribe button so you don’t miss out. 

  The Tough Girl Podcast is sponsorship and ad free thanks to the monthly financial support of patrons. To find out more about supporting your favourite podcast and becoming a patron please check out www.patreon.com/toughgirlpodcast.

  Show notes

Who is Nadhira

Coming from a big family

Not being that active when she was younger

Deciding to climb Mt. Everest in 2017

Telling the youth to try new thing and to be open minded for new experiences

Having 9 brothers and 6 sisters

Not having children

Having 32 nieces and 28 nephews

How her family have accepted her hiking and supported her

Where her idea to climb Mt. Everest came from

Why it was her destiny to climb Mt. Everest

Meeting Khalid al-Siyabi, the first man from Oman to climb Mt. Everest

Keeping her dream a secret from her friends and family 

Being coached by Khalid al-Siyabi and starting to hike and climb in Oman

Paying for Mt. Everest and managing to get half of the trip sponsored

Meeting the Ambassador of Nepal

Deciding to invest in herself 

When her family and friends found out 

Not caring what other people think

Dealing with the negativity and the risks

Knowing that her mum was praying for her on the mountain

What happened during 2017 and 2019

Making her training the number 1 priority 

Hating running but knowing she needed to for her stamina

Running 400K and doing the UTMB Oman 

Learning more about her body and figuring out her nutrition and hydration

The mountains in Oman 

Getting to Everest Base Camp in 2019 and not knowing anyone else

Being very quiet and keeping to herself at the start

Living there for 50 days

Putting herself first and being her own best friend

The mental side of the challenge and pushing herself hard

Learning that her coach and mentor Khalid al-Siyabi died while at base camp

The final push to the summit and making her dreams come true

Climbing Ama Dablam, in Nepal, (6,812 metres /22,349 ft)

Working with young people to inspire them

Final words of advice 

Why you have to work hard to achieve your dreams

  Social Media

  Instagram: @alharthynoor 

  Check out this episode!

[queenraikichi94]

A song to heal a tired soul 1(Raikichi x Piers)

Sooooo this is going to be a group of fics about Raikichi, my trainersona, in Galar.

Rated: Teen and mature

Warning: Bad language, I think?

Note: Raikichi is around 25 years old

------------PART 1-----------------------------

“Are you really going to leave?”

“Of course, Guzma”

“Why?!”

“First of all, don’t yell at me! And second, I need a break. Being a Champion that holds the World Title and a famous coordinator brings a lot of problems handling with the press at the end and...”

“And you’re going to run like a coward?”

“I’m not a coward like you. You don’t know what it’s being on my shoes. Should I remind you when you yelled at me when you knew I saved one of your dammit grunts for being slashed by a Totem Salazzle?”

“You got very near of being charred in the Wela Volcano!!”

“DID YOU PREFER TO SEE THAT POOR GUY BEING KILLED BY THAT SALAZZLE?!”

He went silent. I sighed and I took a deep breath “At least my wounds healed well and that boy is safe...”

“Do they hurt? The scars.”

“Since when you worry about that” I hissed. He glared at me. I would never forgive him about he had said to me when I was recovering “Nevermind, tomorrow I’m leaving to Galar. I have an uncle there and I hope for your own shake you won’t appear there”

“What if I do it?”

“Dare to do it and I’ll make sure you will be suffer a lot”

Guzma swallowed before sighing and giving me something “Take this with ya”

“Why are you giving me a Buginium Z?”

“Who knows, maybe you can use it”

He turned and walked away, and I did the same, with my loyal Glaceon at my side

---------

The sound of my Glaceon calling me took me back to reality. I sighed as I ran a hand over the left side of my head, the one I nearly full shaved. I wanted a change and I got it. With another sigh I looked through the window of the airplane. Hours ago I was saying goodbye to my friends in Alola with the not-very-sure-promise of going back there to do something for the opening of the first Pokemon League in Alola. That would mean press. A LOT of press, and since I was getting tired of that, I decided to take a break. I’ve told Kukui that I would think on it, but I wasn’t sure. I removed my glasses and I stroked the scars on my face. They still hurted, but the thing that hurted me the most was Guzma’s words when I was recovering in the Pokecenter near the Wela Volcano Park after falling inside the volcano and getting too near of being charred. Why did you do that? he asked. I saved him, I said. But he didn’t listen. He was annoyed about me doing a thing like that, ignoring the fact about me saving the poor guy.

“Fuck you, Guzma...” I hissed closing my eyes and stroking my temple. Glaceon tilted her head and rubbed her head againts my arm “Ya know, I was a damn fool believing that I could help them. I was a fool thinking about having something with him” Glaceon made a sound that made me look at her “Hey, don’t say that. He treated me well...Well, once he saw I only wanted to help them” she made another sound and I sighed “Yeah, yeah, wathever. It seems that I can’t let anyone to have my heart” another sound she made and another sigh I let escape from my lips. Yeah, I could understand my Pokemon, it was something my family had through all the family lines, but not everybody developed it, not like my maternal grandmother and me.

“Excuse me, miss” one of the starwedesses said “Do you want something for drink or eat?”

“No, thanks” I said and the woman nodded and kept walking offering drinks and food

I took the Buginium Z from my pocket and I moved it on my fingers. I didn’t have time to put it on the box with the rest of the Z crystals, so I put it on my pocket. Glaceon licked my hand and after moving the crystal to my other hand, I stroked her head “Don’t worry, girl. Once we put our feet in Galar, I’ll be fine”

-------

The airport in Motoske city was full of people, and that made me be worry. I knew that the Pokemon League in Galar was like a sportive event that a lot of people watched, and all the Gym Leaders were famous. That was the thing that worried me since my uncle was one of those Gym Leaders. I looked in both directions, trying to detect any hints that could tell me that there was press there, but failed.

“Glaceon,be aware of any press, ‘kay?” I said and she nodded

I took my bags and I walked, trying to find my uncle in the big crowd. It was then when I heard his voice that I rose my head and I saw him but then, a blue light appeared and now I had a very affectionate Centiskorch wrapped around her and waiting for being petted “Y-yeah, I missed you too, buddy, but please, I need breath, y’know?”

“Centiskorch was very affectionate with you since you were a kid” the trainer said as he made Centiskorch return to its pokeball

“Uncle Kabu!” I said once I recovered my breath and then, I ran to hug him “I missed you a lot, uncle”

“Me too” he laughed before putting his hands on my shoulders “You’ve changed a lot since the last time I saw you, kiddo”

“Uncle, please, I’m old enough to stop being called ‘kiddo’ “

“Maybe, but you’re still the Sweet Princess of the family”

“Uncle” I complained and he laughed, making me sigh. Glaceon rubbed her head on his leg asking for pets “Glaceon remembers you as well”

“I see” he said stroking her soft fur before standing up and looking at me “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Those scars”

I sighed and I shook my head “Yeah, a lot of things happened...Let’s leave that topic once I got a proper rest”

Uncle Kabu rose an eyebrow before smiling and helping me with my bags “Alright. C’mon, let’s go”

“Uncle, tell me there isn’t any press outside” I said a bit nervous

“Don’t worry, if there is press, I’ll make sure they don’t disturb you”

“Thanks. The last thing I want is being disturbed by those fools”

We arrived at my uncle’s flat after taking a Flying Taxi. I got marvelled by that magestic Corviknight, something that made my uncle chuckle. Once inside the house, I dropped myself into the couch of the living room with a groan. “I hope you don’t mind having me around here for some time”

“I told you when you called me to tell me that you were coming here, Raikichi. I don’t mind if that helps you to get some peace”

“Thanks, uncle...” I said with a yawn before standing up and stretching a bit “I need to take a shower to refresh myself”

“The bathroom is next to the guests room” he said after exiting of the named room “I left your bags on the guests room”

“Alright” I said before removing my jacket, revealing the burn scars that covered my left shoulder and part of my back, with the scars that I hade on the left arm. My uncle got a worried expression on his face before sighing “I hope you don’t mind going to one of the most famous restaurants here in Mototoske”

“Wait, when?”

“Maybe after you get refreshed and accomodate yourself here” uncle Kabu said “And of course, the rest of the Gym Leaders will be there. It’s going to be a small welcome party. I thought it would be better to have it in the evening and...Raikichi?”

“You couldn’t wait to tell them, right?” I said. He nodded and I couldn’t help but chuckle “I was hopping to have a nap after taking a bath, but that can wait a bit” I added “I’m going to take a bath”

He nodded and then I went to the bathroom, with my Glaceon following me. Once I closed the door, I got naked, hissing due the small pain the scars produced me. Those weren’t the first scars I got. I touch the ones I got on my right shoulder; the first ones. I sighed and after filling the bathtub with warm water, I entered, enjoying the warm of the water as I started to feel all my tireness leaving me. Glaceon was cleaning her fur as I got my body and my hair washed. Once I was done, I got out of the bathtub and I removed the tap to let the water left the bathtub before getting dried and dressed. I pull my hair into a ponytail and then I looked myself into the mirror. I knew Galar had a colder weather than in Alola but I didn’t care a lot. The clothes I choosed were a black t-shirt with black short pants, as well with black shoes. Something simple but comfy. Of course, that revealled the scars and small burn scars that decorated my legs, something that maybe would make my uncle to ask me more about my scars.

“Let’s go, Glaceon” I said putting the dirty clothes into the chest destinated to those clothes before going to the living room, where my uncle was waiting, petting his Ninetales as his Arcanine layed down on the carpet, next to Centiskorch “I’m ready, uncle”

“Alright” he said taking his coat as I took mine, then he made his Pokemon go back to their pokeballs “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about them?”

“Not today” I said with a sigh as we exited the house in direction of the restaurant, with Glaceon at my side “Maybe tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“You know you can count with me, kiddo”

“I know” I smiled “You have been always very supportive with me, like mom, dad, and grandma”

“And I’m still being supportive” he said “You know, you’re the only kid your parents had after too many failed tries”

“Yeah, I know...” I said loosing my smile. My parents didn’t mention a lot about the previous children they had, that didn’t have the luck to enjoy life cause they died few hours after being born. “So...Me being the only kid my parents had was the reason you had to spoil me a lot?”

“Kind of” uncle Kabu said ruffling my hair “I know you are a young adult and a very well talented trainer and coordinator, but I can’t stop seeing that small kiddo that always wanted to pet Centiskorch when I see you”

“Oh, c’mon, uncle” I laughed and he joined me in the laugh

We arrived at the restaurant. Luckily, no press was there. I sighed as we entered inside, with my uncle guiding me and Glaceon to the table where the other Gym Leaders were. “Hey, Kabu! Right here!”

“I hope you’re not thinking on taking selfies during the evening, Raihan” Kabu said 

“Why not?”

“My niece wouldn’t like that”

All the gazes of the Gym Leaders were now on me. At first I tried to avoid them, but that wasn’t going to work, so I looked at them. Glaceon rubbed her head on my leg and I smiled softly. “This is Raikichi, my...” uncle Kabu started to say before being interrupted by a tan girl with black and blue hair “I can’t believe you’re here!” she said “When Kabu told us that his niece was coming to Galar and that she was the World Champion og the Pokemon League, everyone then wanted to meet you”

“Oh...That sounds nice...But don’t say that too loud, please” I said a bit overwhelmed

“Please, Nessa, she has just arrived today” my uncle said “I called all of you because I want you to know her and maybe once she’s acommodate you could taste what is being beated by her”

“That’s a challenge?” Gordie, the Rock type leader said with a smirk

“Maybe”

“Aww, I can’t believe this little girl is actually the World Champion” Raihan said. Oh. By. Arceus. He was too tall, and being shorter wouldn’t help. I knew that something was going to happend, I was sure he would do jokes about my height, starting with that first one. I heard enough of those jokes and I wasn’t going to allow him to laugh at me, so when he tried to ruffled my hair, I took his wrist and I made him lean so low that he was nearly to lose his balance.

“Listen to me, Dragon Boy. I’m not a child. I’m around 25, and I’m sure that is more less your age, so if you dare again to make jokes about my heigh, be sure that you will know what is having yours balls frozen. Understood?” I said and he nodded, so I released his wrist and let him recover his balance 

“Whoa, she is strong-character, isn’t she?” Raihan said going back to his seat

“It runs in the family” Kabu said with a laugh “That would teach you not to mess with someone that can beat you despite of its small size”

That made the other Gym Leaders chuckle as Raihan’s cheeks turned red, embarrased. My uncle and me took seat as well, and after ordering the food, one of the waitresses brought some Pokemon food for my Glaceon. I smiled and then, I removed my jacket and put it on my chair. I ignored the few gazes that the leaders gave to me, examining my scars.

“So...You are also a coordinator, aren’t you?” someone asked

I rose my head and my hazel eyes met the light blue eyes of the Dark type Gym Leader. His name was Piers, and he was proud of being the first Dark type Gym Leader, at least for me, cause I didn’t meet another leader that managed that type before. I smiled softly and I nodded “Yeah, I’m a coordinator...Well, maybe I was”

“You were?”

“Yeah...I mean, I spent these last years without doing anything to practise my contest skills...And I don’t think I will be back on stage”

Piers rose an eyebrow as he looked at me before smiling softly. That smile made me smile as well. The evening turned to be quiet but also funny. Raihan tried to tease me using my heigh on his jokes but Glaceon made sure he didn’t get his jokes going along. Threating a dragon trainer with being frozen was enough to keep him in line.

Two hours later, the party reached its end cause Bea and Allister, the youngest of the leaders, had to go back soon to their homes. The Gym Leaders gave me their league cards, the last one was Piers who gave me a soft smile while he have me his card “I hope ya’ll go to Spikemouth for one of my concerts” he said and I smiled again, remembering that he told me he was a singer

“Sure, I’ll tell you if I go there”

He smiled again and left the restaurant. My uncle and me left the restaurant and went back to his flat. The night was arriving and that brought cold weather, but I didn’t mind that. Once in home, I went to the bedroom that would be mine for a time and I got changed into my sleeping clothes. Then, I went to the living room and sat down on the coach, with Glaceon taking her place on the couch.

“Did you enjoy this evening?” uncle Kabu asked was he gave me a cup of tea

“Yeah, I did...Uncle?”

“Yes?”

“I promise I’ll tell you about the scars tomorrow”

He nodded and together, we watched the TV. Slowly, I started to feel my eyelids closing. I said goodnight to my uncle and then, I went to my bedroom, lying down on the soft bed and covering on the warm blankets. Glaceon jumped and curled next to me, ready to get a proper sleep. I took my phone and after searching Pier’s name on the music library that was online, I closed my eyes, smiling as I enjoyed his songs, the ones I choosed cause they were soft and slowly, and with a smile, I fell asleep.

[adabellatovey1990]

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Does Premature Ejaculation Cause Pregnancy

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[thaisibir]

La Vie en Rose (Bede and young!Opal time travel fic)

La Vie en Rose (Life in Pink) Rating: T (for character deaths and language) Chapter 3/10 - Beginnings (length: ~3k words) Summary: Bede doesn’t get why that loony old bat Opal wants him to be the next Fairy-type Gym Leader. To help him understand, Opal has Celebi take Bede back to the time of her youth.

(For other chapters, look up the tag “pokemon la vie en rose” or go to my profile)

When the light faded, Bede cracked his eyes open. Slowly he let go of Celebi’s hands. He noticed the same ring of tiny yellow mushrooms, the same curtain of moss hanging over the big old tree. The only difference was that Opal was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t feel like he had jumped back seventy years, but that was because he hadn’t explored yet.

“Where do I go from here?” Bede asked Celebi. “Lead the way.”

“Bi!” The Pokemon flew ahead of him through the glowing mushrooms, but at a steady, hovering pace so he could keep up with it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bede thought he spotted the pink horned ears of Impidimps as they scuttled through the undergrowth. Could they see him? He hoped not. When he was building his new team, he had refused to catch and raise one of those creepy little buggers.

Celebi led him out to the trail that took them to the Ballonlea Gym. It flashed the same pink neon lights and emblem, but the doors had hinges and the Gym was half the size he expected. Bede guessed that both the regional population and enthusiasm for watching Gym battles had climbed since the 1950s, and at some point, the Gym underwent renovation to increase seating capacity and allow Dynamaxing. And automatic sliding doors hadn’t been invented yet.

“I wonder what it looks like inside?” He asked out loud. He made for the doors, but Celebi halted him mid-stride by tugging on his sleeve. Just then the double doors burst open. They could have swung right into him if Celebi hadn’t stopped him. A tall, dark-haired young woman sprinted past the doors, past Bede, and down the opposite path he had taken to reach the Gym.

“That’s Ms. Opal,” Bede exclaimed.

Celebi took off after her, prompting him to run after them both. He tried to follow them past the cluster of cottages and down the flights of stairs. Ballonlea Town hadn’t changed much in seventy years—just as Bede would expect out of an enchanting little town touched by Fairy type Pokemon. Opal sprinted into Glimwood Tangle without a pause or slowing down. Despite the gloom and patches of thick, tall grass, she clearly knew her way around as she wove back and forth through the labyrinth-like pathways and ducked into the gaps under fallen tree trunks.

“Ms. Opal, wait,” Bede called out. Then he remembered that he had no physical presence here. She wouldn’t be able to see or hear him. Bede had been one of the faster boys in the orphanage, if not the fastest, but he pumped his arms and legs hard in great effort to keep up. “Bloody hell, she’s fast,” he managed to say between pants. Definitely not the slow old woman as he had first known her.

Ahead of him, Celebi made a sound close to a tinkering laugh. Bede thought that the chase would go on and on, and he would lose Opal in the thicket, but she slowed down. He pressed both hands to his knees and tried to catch his breath just behind her. She gently tapped at a nearby mushroom, sending a stronger green glow around them.

“Mother,” Opal said softly. “I knew you would be here.”

Bede peeked around her to spot an older woman curled up by the ledge. He recognized that tangle of long dark hair, and her long nose, though the old photo hid the fact that the woman’s shawl was actually a dull yellow, not gray. It took him a few seconds to realize that Opal’s mother, Ruby, was hugging a Mimikyu to her chest. Her Mimikyu, Bede guessed. The Pokemon extended a shadowy claw through its Pikachu-like cloak to rub soothing strokes on Ruby’s shoulder.

Celebi beckoned at Bede to come closer. He edged farther in, feeling weird about eavesdropping on what was supposed to be a private moment between mother and daughter, but that was what the present-day Opal wanted him to do, anyway.

Opal knelt down to rest a hand on her mother’s back. Her right hand. It was bare, and Bede saw no scar there.

Ruby shuddered and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, dear. You know how I am around unexpected guests.”

Opal’s eyes narrowed and her frown deepened, briefly adding a few more years to her young face. “Those reporters were quite rude, barging into the Gym like that for an unwarranted interview. I’ll place more security around the Gym to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

Ruby made a small, wan smile. “You’ve become such a mature and responsible young woman, despite everything I’ve done.” She shook her head. “No, because of everything I’ve done. Look at me, Opal. I can’t even handle being around a couple of news reporters without suffering a panic attack. You’ve had to keep the Gym running while I would be away trying to pull myself together. I’m sorry to put that burden on you, dear.”

Opal shook her head. “You’ve trained me for this, Mother. I’m happy to do my duty.”

“Speaking of duty, I think that my time as Gym Leader is over.” Ruby had been stroking the top of Mimikyu’s head, and she lowered her hand to rest it on top of her daughter’s. “I apologize for the lack of ceremony...but Opal, dear, starting today, you will be the next Gym Leader of Ballonlea Town.”

Opal jerked her hand away. “What? Now? But I haven’t-”

“I know, your eighteenth birthday is three months away, and I had planned to hand over the Gym to you then. But in all honesty, I don’t think I can bear another three months. I’m at my limit, Opal. You know as well as I do that I am at odds with civilization. I am quite odd, aren’t I? I won’t be offended if you think so.”

Opal frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling more connected with Pokemon than with people.”

“But feeling so connected with them that I want to cut off people forever?”

Opal stared at her with silent, wide-eyed shock.

Ruby closed her eyes, and Bede saw how the dark bruised look of them contrasted with the paleness of her face. “Yes, I’ve thought about it for years. I grow tired of human chatter and rabble. I can’t stand the roaring and cheering in the Gym stadium. I get this terrible ringing in my ears. It drives me mad. Every day I feel the wilderness and its wild Pokemon calling to me, drawing me away from society, promising a cure. Only in that quietness and seclusion can I find peace, and my ears don’t ring anymore.” Ruby opened her eyes to return Opal’s pitying gaze. “I’ve kept my post as Gym Leader for your sake, so I could teach you what I know, everything I know about Fairy type Pokemon. You may not be eighteen yet, but I believe that you are ready. Consider this an early birthday present from me.”

Opal pursed her lips. “Thank you, Mother,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome, and good-bye, my dear.”

Opal drew back and blinked many times under a scrunched up brow. “Good-bye? You’re leaving today?”

Ruby’s voice was gentle but firm. “This will be my last day among people. No more human contact after today.”

“Even me?”

“Yes, Opal, even you.” Ruby took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it. “That is not to say that I don’t love you. Not at all. A parent is not supposed to have favorites, but of all my children, you are my absolute favorite. I’m sure you know that already.”

Opal smiled. “Well, I’m the only one who can understand you.”

Ruby nodded. “You chose to come with me when your father and I got divorced. You chose to leave behind all the riches in Wynwall, your father and your brothers, to train under me and learn the ways of Fairy type Pokemon. That was not an easy choice to make.” She lowered Mimikyu to the ground and rose to her feet, pulling her shawl tighter around herself. “You have been good company, and a good student, but now that I’ve passed on the torch to you, your place is with Ballonlea, while my place is elsewhere. The best option for us both is to part ways.”

“Where will you go, Mother?”

Ruby tilted her head to one side in thought. “Deeper into Glimwood Tangle, or perhaps into the Slumbering Weald. I heard that the locals in the nearby town are forbidden from entering it.” She smiled. “That sounds like an ideal place for someone who doesn’t want to be found. I will live off the salt of the earth, eat berries from trees in the forest, and drink from the rain and the river.”

Ruby’s sincerity behind that declaration made Opal take on the look of a girl half her age, frightened and overwhelmed. “I won’t ever see you again? You’ll be alone to the end of your days?”

Ruby placed a hand over Opal’s chest. “I’ll always be in your heart, if you care to remember me afterwards, and I’ll never be alone. I’ll have Pokemon by my side. I’ve always taken delight in their company, and I’ll continue to do so for the rest of my life.” She pursed her lips to let out a soft whistle, and from the bushes nearby, a Sylveon, a Shiinotic, and a Florges joined Mimikyu around Ruby. Her team of Pokemon, Bede realized. The only ones who would follow their Trainer into a life of untamed isolation.

Ruby pulled her daughter into a hug—or tried to, as if she had never quite grasped the motions. “Good-bye, my dear Opal. May you be brilliant and glorious as the precious stone I named you after.”

Opal returned the hug with arms wrapped tightly around her mother, and Ruby’s eyes widened as she received the entirety of that embrace. Opal pulled away and nodded. “Good-bye, Mother. Safe travels.”

Ruby tightened the shawl around her body once more and stepped away from the paved path, taking nothing with her but the clothes on her back and the Pokemon she had trained. Her Pokemon followed her into the undergrowth.

Thinking of how his own family dropped him off at the orphanage and didn’t look back, Bede wanted to shout after Ruby, “Go back to your daughter. You can’t just leave her like that.”

But he couldn’t make himself heard, so he wondered if Opal would. She didn’t call after her mother. Nor did she break into pursuit like she did before. Instead she stared at her mother’s retreating back, up until the darkness and mist enveloped her. Finally, she turned away and walked back the way she came. Back to the town.

Even while walking, Opal had a long, quick stride that Bede had to put effort in matching. Once at her side, Bede looked up at her to notice with surprise that tears had been welling up in her eyes. A muscle in her jaw twitched from clenched teeth. Suddenly she stopped near a tree stump to lean on it and let out a sob into her sleeve.

Bede stood by awkwardly, biting on his bottom lip and shifting his weight. Opal had just lost her mother suddenly, strangely, and was left with a new burden to carry on her shoulders. She didn’t succumb to that invisible weight, nor did she dwell in that spot. She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. After a few moments, Opal gathered herself to a stern-faced composure. She drew in a shaky breath, straightened the black bow on her white blouse, and combed her fingers through short dark hair that had been messy and windswept from running. She carried on and wore that stern mask into town. Reporters in coats and fedoras streamed out of the Gym carrying notepads and those old-timey cameras with the big round flash bulbs. They assaulted her with their inquiring chatter—a rude, jarring contrast from the quiet, private exchange between Ruby and Opal at Glimwood Tangle.

“Miss Opal, might we have a word with you, please?”

“Did you manage to find your mother?”

“Is the Gym Leader available for an interview?”

Opal fixed them with a chilly look that kept them from coming too close to her. “My mother will not be taking any questions. I am Ballonlea’s Gym Leader now.”

The huddle of reporters erupted into a swarm, like a disturbed hive of Combees. Opal kept her chin high and strode past them, refusing to make eye contact and ignoring their flood of questions and exclamations.

Bede followed after her with growing respect. Opal carried on that commanding presence even to her old age. He remembered her rare League Card: a picture of him standing to attention like a soldier at Opal’s side, ready to be taught under her strict regimen.

“Chin up, back straight, shoulders squared, hands to your sides,” she had ordered. “Top form, now. Look like you’re going to take Fairy type Pokemon seriously.”

A tug at his collar made him stop. Bede turned to see Celebi gesturing at him to take both of its hands. Time-traveling again. He supposed he thought that was all to see at this point. But watching Opal’s mother pass on the Gym Leader title didn’t explain why Opal wanted to pass it on to him. Maybe there was more to see. Bede held Celebi’s hands and grimaced as a brilliant light radiated from the Legendary Pokemon.

#

Bede found himself facing a stage. Spotlights pointed at the stage made the rest of the room dim. He must be inside the Gym, its theatre. Though he had never formally challenged the Gym, as Opal’s protege he had been led (dragged, rather) inside the theatre enough times to know it from front to back. The Gym, like the town outside, hadn’t changed much back then. The stage was made of the same wood and the curtains had the same color.

Next to him, Opal sat alone at a narrow table, with a cup of tea in her left hand and a pen hovering over papers in her right. Celebi had Bede jump a bit forward in time, still in the past. Opal looked a year or two older than the last time Bede saw her. Still quite young to be managing a theatre. She seemed at ease with the role, however, as she presided over stacks of resumes, score sheets, and of course, questionnaires of her own design, and she scrutinized a young man who stepped onto the stage.

Bede frowned at Celebi. “She’s looking for a new Gym Leader already? Didn’t she just get it from her mum?” But no Trainer stepped up to challenge the young man to a battle. Bede realized that this was normal theatre business. Straight-up auditioning for a part in some play.

The man didn’t introduce himself, because Opal already had his resume in front of her, and after clearing his throat, he went straight into singing. Opal closed her eyes and rested the pen on her chin. At first Bede thought she was bored and on the verge of falling asleep. Then he noticed how she angled her head toward the stage, how her brow furrowed a bit in concentration. She was, in fact, listening intently. Bede wasn’t into musical theatre, so he didn’t recognize the lines. He couldn’t tell if the man was doing well or not. Opal kept her expression impassive as she gauged the performance.

She didn’t scribble anything into the score sheet until the man finished. She nodded at him. “Thank you for your time. I will release the results sometime next week.”

He bowed and exited the stage. Bede had noticed disappointment flicker in the young man’s face before he had bowed. That man must’ve been hoping to be told his results right then and there. Opal wrote more comments into the score sheet, then arranged the papers into neater stacks in a way that she would look at them later. As she rose from the table, Bede could hear murmuring and rustling as those behind the scenes shut off the spotlights and pulled the curtains closed. Celebi tugged at Bede’s sleeve, beckoning him to follow Opal out of the theatre. He stumbled after her at the same time a Gym Trainer accompanied her outside.

“How were the performances today, Miss Opal?” The Gym Trainer asked.

Opal propped a hand on her hip and huffed a sigh. “Lackluster, I’m afraid. No one’s up to snuff.”

“Not even alumni from your own school, like that man who last auditioned?”

“A degree from the Hammerlocke Royal Academy of the Arts alone doesn’t make exceptions, nor can it save a subpar performance. ”

At Opal’s condescending remark, the Gym Trainer made a sheepish suggestion: “Perhaps you need to lower your standards, ma’am.”

Opal seemed to balk at that suggestion as she flicked her hand in the air. “I will not settle for anyone less than the very best, who I’ve had no luck finding. Today’s the last day for auditions, but I’m thinking about extending them to the next three days, if that’s possible.”

The Gym Trainer looked down at her clipboard and shook her head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re running on a tight schedule. We can’t delay production and rehearsal any longer. You will need to settle on who will play Raoul soon.”

Opal splayed fingers through her short dark hair in response. “At this rate, no one will play the part.” She shook her head. “I’ve been cooped up in the theatre for too long. Perhaps fresh air and a walk will do me a bit of good. I will think more over the candidates we’ve auditioned.”

Apparently the Gym Trainer liked that answer as her face and voice perked up. “Very good, Miss Opal.”

And it was apparent to Bede that Opal only said that to appease the Gym Trainer, because as the older woman went back inside, Opal let the frustration settle back into her face. She turned away from the Gym and took a trail farther into the forest.

“Ms. Opal always did set unrealistic standards,” Bede remarked with amusement to Celebi. He and the time-traveling Pokemon followed Opal off the trail and into the thicket of glowing mushrooms and old trees. The soft beat of flapping wings made Bede glance up. A Togekiss drifted from above to settle on a sapling next to Opal.

She greeted the Pokemon with a grin and reached out to smooth back its blue and red plumage. “You can sense my frustration from a mile away, can’t you? Did you come to help calm me down?”

The Togekiss, her Togekiss, trilled and rubbed its cheek against her palm.

Opal withdrew her hand to ball it into a fist over her chest. “What am I going to do, Togekiss? The casting process had never been this much of a pain. Then again, I have to find someone for not just any song, but my absolute favorite song in the play. I guess that makes all the difference. Perhaps my search for the perfect match is like trying to find a Legendary Pokemon.” She raised her hands, then let them fall to her sides in resigned helplessness. “I may be running a theatre, and I have the authority to cast whoever I want, but it doesn’t feel like I have control. I don’t control how someone else sings and acts, and if they all come in not singing and acting the way I’d like, then I don’t have a choice at all.” Opal looked like she wanted to swat at the nearest glowing mushroom, but Togekiss cooed and jumped up to gently land on her head. She took a stumbling step forward and laughed, catching Togekiss with her hands.

“You’re not a little Togetic anymore. Off with you, now, before I fall over.”

Togekiss jumped back onto the branch it had been sitting on, and Opal smoothed her hair back into place.

“You know, Togekiss, the only thing I feel that I have true control over is myself.” Opal closed her eyes, as if drinking in the sounds of the forest.

She drew in a deep breath and sang in rich, melodious soprano that startled Bede and sent chills down his back. The most he would hear from the Opal he knew was a low hum here and there, and he had seen her sing in old photos, but he had never heard her sing like this. He shouldn’t be surprised, though. If she had been a talented actress back then, and acting often involved singing and dancing, then she must have been skilled in those areas, too.

Bede wanted to sit there in the forest and listen to her sing forever, but she stopped after five lines. The forest seemed to swallow up her voice. Then, from a distance, came the following few lines in alto.

Opal gasped. “Togekiss, did you hear that?”

Her Pokemon chirped in affirmation. Opal straightened up and looked around, trying to pinpoint the direction of the mystery voice. Whoever was singing fell silent, prompting her to carry on with the duet and sing the next lines.

Bede didn’t have her ear for what kind of singing was good or bad, but it was evident even to him that this mystery voice had her enraptured. She was bent on locating the source of that voice, pushing through the tall grass and sweeping her gaze across the forest like an explorer on a jungle expedition. Togekiss helped her track down the voice as it flew ahead. Bede followed behind her, curious as she was about who could be singing the duet with her.

Opal lurched to a halt, making Bede nearly run into her. He peeked around her to match her wide-eyed surprise.

Huddled against the tree was a man in a tattered coat. His matted brown hair was so thick and unkempt that it hid his lips and nearly hid his dark eyes. A backpack patched with dirt and bulging at the seams sat next to him. Wrapped about his neck like a striped scarf, a Galarian Linoone bared its teeth at Opal. A Mightyena lying down on all fours lifted its downcast gaze at the man’s feet to stare back at her warily.

The surprise on Opal’s face twisted into confusion. “You...were you the one singing with me—“ Her question turned into a cry of alarm as the man collapsed right in front of her.

Linoone and Mightyena growled at Opal, stopping her from running up to him. She raised her hands at them as a disarming gesture.

“Calm down, I’m not going to hurt him,” she said firmly.

Her Togekiss flew down before Linoone and Mightyena to convey her Trainer’s intentions to them. Only then did the pair of Dark type Pokemon flatten their fur and slink back to let Opal kneel down and gently turn the man over.

“Sir, can you hear me?” She called, and she shook her head in panic when he didn’t respond. Bede heard her mutter, “Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.” Then she said, “Togekiss, get help from the clinic.”

Her Pokemon cried out to acknowledge her command and flew out of sight.

Just call for help on the Rotom Phone, Bede thought, but he realized that they hadn’t been invented yet. He knew that there was nothing he could do. Still, he didn’t feel right standing by helplessly as Opal tried to rouse the man.

His eyes fluttered open, making Opal blow out a sigh of relief. “Good, try to stay awake. Don’t worry, sir, I’m getting you help.” She would give him a shake if his eyes were about to close again. “What’s your name? Could you at least tell me that?”

His dried lips quivered. “R-Roger.”

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Waking Up in Vegas--Ch. 28

Chapter 28: I Know I Found You

Mera, Afternoon, 3:15 PM

           I looked up, adjusting the brim of my ballcap to shade my eyes as I took in the sight of the Nevada sky. It was a perfect, bright blue that almost perfectly matched Dean’s eyes, clear of clouds with a yellow sun hanging over everything. Warmth radiated up from the ground, biting into the faint chill of the coming desert winter.

           Dean filled the space beside me, tugging the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms. He wore a backward ballcap and black wrap-around sunglasses along with basketball shorts and running shoes. A light backpack hung from his shoulders. A water bottle dangled from his fingertips. He curled one arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close.

           “I told you this place was beautiful,” Dean said smoothly. We stood together atop one of the red sandstone rises in the Calico tanks. Other people milled around in other parts of the trail, but there, for just a moment, we were all alone in the muted hues of the desert. In the distance, the lines of Las Vegas were barely visible.

           My first visit to Red Rock Canyon was more breathtaking than I’d imagined. I knew it was beautiful, but I hadn’t fathomed how truly wonderful it was. With Dean there, it was even better.

           He grinned down at me, arm hooked around my neck. “You know,” he said quietly, “this is one of the only places in the world that I feel real. I don’t know what it is about the mountains and canyons back here, but they… they speak to me.”

           I leaned into his side; my arms wrapped around his waist. I could feel his body flex, chest expanding as he took in deep breaths of the fresh air. There was something lighter about him just then. It was like the weight of the rest of the world had fallen away from his shoulders as he’d climbed higher into the hills.

           “There’s only one place that feels more like home than this place,” he continued. Dean twisted in my hold until he could wrap me fully in his arms. I couldn’t help but notice how his hazelnut hair curled from beneath the edges of his ballcap. The scruff on his face had been slowly replaced by a full beard that looked wonderful on him. It was as if he was in some limbo between the goofy young guy I’d met in Florida and the still goofy grown man he was becoming.

           I grinned as I looked up. My reflection looked back at me from the lenses of his glasses. “Hmm, and where’s that?”

           His fingers tilted the brim of my cap upward as he leaned down toward me. “Right here,” Dean murmured just before his lips met mine.

 Dean, Afternoon, 3:20 PM

           I knew I thought it a lot, but I couldn’t help the fact that she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. Even with her face slightly red from climbing the canyon and her hair frizzy from sweat, she was gorgeous. From the very moment that she’d agreed to stay with me, to be my wife beyond just a roadside wedding, I’d wanted to bring her here. Red Rock was my chapel, the place where I felt at one with the rest of the universe, and it only seemed right to me to have her there.

           I tasted the salt from sweat on her lips. When I pulled away, she stayed right there, lifted onto her tiptoes, eyes half closed, palms splayed out over my chest. No matter what the temperature, I would always feel her touch as a searing burn against my flesh. I would proudly wear the scars of her fingerprints all over my body if it meant she’d never stop touching me.

           “Goddamn,” I snarled, surprised at the vehemence in my voice. I couldn’t help it if she was amazingly beautiful, that every freckle on her face and the curves of her mouth and the lines of her jaw and the shades of her hair was perfection.

           Her eyes flickered open. The sunlight turned them into a swirl of brass and gold. She smiled, and my ribs crumpled from the blow. “What?” she asked softly, her smile looking gentle and innocent.

           I pulled her closer, tugging her against my chest until there wasn’t space for a breath between us. “You’re beautiful,” I said firmly. “I’ll never forget it, but sometimes it hits me in just the right way and it’s like the first time I’m seeing you all over again.”

           Her lips parted, her mouth making a surprised little o as tears beaded on her lashes. “Dean,” she murmured, her fingers tightening in my shirt.

           I smiled down at her, the love of my life, and brushed the tears from her eyes. “Don’t argue, Mera. I remember how I felt when I saw you that first time. And I know that I’m thankful that I can feel it again. It’s just another reminder of how much you’ve changed my life.”

Dean, Evening Seven Years Ago, 9:49 PM

           “Fuck,” I swore, completely sure that I’d torn my shoulder or separated the whole thing. I knew that I was going to be out for an amount of time that I just couldn’t spare. Not when the promotion was being wrapped up into WWE’s developmental brand. I was two steps away from the biggest shot in my entire career, and I’d just gone and fucked it up entirely.

           I had enough sense to walk straight backstage and to the trainer’s room. No one had a chance to look at me before I disappeared, holding my arm against my side. The room was empty, except for her.

           Mera Reynolds sat cross-legged on a worn padded table, a textbook thicker than my thigh in her lap. By the looks of it, she’d almost read the entire fucking thing. But the second that I walked into the room, she snapped the heavy book shut and jumped to the floor.

           “Dean!” she exclaimed, surprise and worry dancing in her eyes. I felt her eyes run over me, taking inventory. I knew the instant she looked at my shoulder. “Come here. Lie down.”

           I let out an anguished sort of howl when my busted-up shoulder hit the padded table. Tears prickled in my eyes. Goddamn, I thought I was going to bite through my tongue to keep from shrieking in pain.

           She hovered next to me, rubbing her hands together to warm them. “I’m going to try not to hurt you,” she said softly. Her fingers brushed the inside of my wrist, settled there as she counted out the beats of my heart. Every time she touched me, it was featherlight. I could sense her eyes on my face.

           “Don’t fight me, okay?” she said firmly as she started moving my injured arm. “Don’t tense up. Just tell me when it’s on the edge of your pain tolerance.”

           I struggled to breathe as she slowly moved my arm out away from my body and then up into the air. I growled in agony as she hit the place where I couldn’t bear it any longer.

           “I’m sorry, Dean. I’m so sorry,” she soothed as she placed my arm back at my side. She kept up a litany of words as she touched by shoulder, applying pressure here or there. “Okay, I don’t feel a tear. Looks like a dislocation. I can pop it back in right here or we can get you to the hospital.”

           “I can’t afford a fucking hospital,” I ground out. “Just pop it in.”

           Mera looked down at me, and I was hit again by the shade of her eyes. Wolf eyes. That’s what they called them in Ohio. I understood the name just then. They were hauntingly amber, irises ringed by bronze, flecks of gold glittering throughout. If I listened hard enough, I was sure I could have heard a wolf howl in the distance. She brushed her hand over my hair.

           “I can give you something to numb it now, but it’s going to hurt worse later.” There was a sadness in her voice, like she hated the thought of causing me suffering.

           I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. Pop it in and give me some Aleve afterward.”

           She blinked as if she was trying to hold back tears. Then she nodded and looked me in the eye. “I need you to breathe, Dean. Don’t tense up, don’t hold your breath. Whatever happens, however much it hurts, I need you to breathe. Okay?”

           I couldn’t deny her. She said it with such worry and concern in her voice that I knew there was nothing else I could do. I nodded, but didn’t take my eyes off her as she slowly moved my arm out from my body. She stepped into the place between my arm and body, her left hand holding my elbow and her right palm splayed out on my shoulder where it ached the worst.

           “Slow breaths,” Mera said quietly. In the next moment, she applied a steady pressure on my elbow as she pulled. Her right hand pushed down, shooting agony through my entire body. “Keep breathing, Dean. Focus on your breathing.”

           But I couldn’t. I’d forgotten how to breathe. All I knew was the scent of peaches and sangria that suddenly engulfed my senses. I couldn’t do anything but look up at her and count the freckles on her nose.

           There was a painfully electric moment where she pulled and pushed at the same time. “God damn it!” I shouted, using every ounce of strength I had to not buck straight up off the table.

           Mera’s fingers stroked gently down my arm and settled on my wrist once again. I watched through blurred vision as she counted quietly.

           “Don’t get up just yet. You’ll be dizzy. I’m going to grab a sling and something to help with the pain.” The moment she left, it felt as if the pain hit a crescendo in my limbs. Almost like she was the balm that kept the discomfort at bay.

           Turning my head, I watched her walk out of the room. She looked left, a small smile crossing her face. I heard her say his name and reach for him, felt a stab of jealousy that I wasn’t the only one who got her touches. Mera Reynolds wasn’t mine to want. Hell, she was far too good for a guy like me even if she had been. Too smart, too pretty, and too kind.

           I knew there was nothing for it. I couldn’t stop how she turned me inside out with that smile of hers. But there was one thing that I did know. I loved her, and I would do whatever it took to stay close to her, even if I could never breathe a word of it to any living soul.

 Mera, Afternoon, 3:23 PM

           “Dean?” I asked quietly, cupping my hands against his cheeks. He looked somewhere far away. And there was something deeply sad in his eyes. “What’s wrong?

           When he looked at me, his blue eyes lit up. He smiled and leaned down, dropping a kiss on the end of my nose. “Everything is fine. Because you’re right here.”

_____________________________________________

Tag List

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[johnclapperne]

What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke?

Personal trainers are supposed to be gladiators. They glide into our early morning sessions sporting intensity, enthusiasm, some tough love to get us in shape and a physique that makes us say, “Man, I’d love to look like that.”

Rick Logan is that guy. As a trainer in Baltimore, the 27-year-old has put dozens of clients through brutal sessions to help them toughen up. And he practices what what he preaches, working out incessantly to the point of exhaustion.

“He is an animal,” says colleague Kimberly Hanson. “He has this huge personality. When he walks into a room, you know he’s there.”

But that’s where the narrative starts to fall apart. It happened a year ago; Logan never could’ve guess he suffered from a rare medical condition that would leave him unable to walk at all. That he would have to summon every ounce of his will, strength and determination to get his physical prowess back. Or that he would have to buy in fully to the simple acts of using MyFitnessPal and UA Record — which he never fully understood — to help get him back on his feet.

A FIT REVELATION

Logan made a career shift into fitness in his early 20s. Not that he was inspired to become a gym rat, but because he went through a fitness journey with his father, Rick Sr., who suffered a stroke in his 30s. Growing up, young Rick had no idea how to help his dad, who lost feeling on his left side and struggled through a grueling rehab.

What he did know is the experience of working out alongside his dad, who eventually got back on his feet, wasn’t just physically fulfilling, it was spiritual as well.

“We were in fitness together,” Logan explains. “My father and I started training programs together, and it was a bonding thing because we were never close when I was growing up.”

Quickly, Logan decided personal training was for him. He soon began working at FX Studios, a trio of Baltimore-area health clubs that sport the UA Connected Fitness brand and philosophy. At his peak, he had a regular roster of 30–40 individual clients in addition to multiple group sessions per week.

Work grind

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Jul 8, 2013 at 11:23am PDT

He had no idea what was coming. After an evening of socializing in April 2016, Logan woke up with a searing headache at 3 a.m. He got out of bed to use the bathroom and immediately fell over, but didn’t think much of it. “I thought it was the beer,” he laughs. “I had only had like three and my first thought was, ‘I’m such a lightweight.’”

He went back to bed and got up at 5 to see a client. But things got progressively worse. He couldn’t drive his car in a straight line on his way to work. Twenty minutes into working with his client, he couldn’t even stand. He finished the session, but went home and got back in bed, thinking he had fallen ill with a flu.

By 11 a.m., he realized in horror he couldn’t move the left side of his body. He had a friend rush him to a local outpatient clinic, and struggled even to use his phone, which he kept dropping.

“That’s when it dawned on me,” he recalls. “I was having a stroke. I was going through exactly what happened to my dad.”

Subsequent doctor visits gave Logan a diagnosis he had never expected: a rare blood disorder called antiphospholipid antibody syndrome, which causes rapid blood clots. In Logan’s case, doctors believed he had an arterial tear somewhere in his neck. Medication could get his condition in check; what he would have to do on his own was regain the ability to move and walk properly. Returning to his old life was no guarantee.

“I had prided myself on keeping a certain aesthetic,” he explains. “I like to look a certain way and be healthy. Doing elaborate workouts was just something I did. I don’t think I truly appreciated that after seeing what my father went through. But at the time, I remember having this realization: ‘Am I ever going to be able to do this again?’”

READ MORE > DANIEL’S WEIGHT-LOSS SECRET? 2 POUNDS PER WEEK

Logan’s doctors prescribed him heavy physical therapy sessions, and he was fortunate: The staff at FX Studios Physical Therapy committed immediately to giving him the treatment he needed. Within days, he was working two hours or more with therapists. But being the proud man he was, Logan was frustrated with his inability to do simple things like raise his left arm.

“My muscles went away pretty quick,” he says. “It was almost unbearable, to be honest.”

That’s when he figured he’d set a series of small goals. That started with logging his food on MyFitnessPal and his physical activity — limited though it was — with UA Record.

“I figured if that’s what I could do, I’ll do it,” he recalls. “I’m not going to sit on the couch and feel sorry for myself. Each week I tracked and saw a snapshot of what I’d done. That first week, I couldn’t even do a pushup. But with each week that passed, I could go back to that first week and see what I couldn’t do. It helped motivate me.”

It also marked the time when Logan became a Connected Fitness convert, which he admits he “had never bought into” previously, despite the logo on the door of his workplace.

BACK ON HIS FEET

One of my favorite people and best physical therapist around @drkimbo09 . Someone who gave up hours and hours of her time to get me to walk again. Can’t ever thank someone enough for that kind of support but if you need some pt you better call @_fxstudios bc the whole team is on that level.

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Oct 14, 2016 at 8:45am PDT

Logan’s rehab was slow, but steady. He worked with Hanson — a physical therapist and clinic director at FX — regularly. She started with the basics of strengthening his core. It was a fine line, she explains, between pushing him to where he felt like he was making progress and adjusting when he simply couldn’t physically accomplish basic exercises.

“You could tell he was still positive for sure,” Hanson remembers. “But you could also tell he was sort of scared and unsure how it would all go. It was clear he had a stroke. The left side of his body was extremely weak.”

But Logan’s “animal” nature helped him more than most people. Because he was in such good shape, his body was able to rediscover the pathways that reactivated his neuromuscular system quicker. And because he was logging his diet on MyFitnessPal and his activity, exercise and sleep in UA Record, he and the FX staff were better able to contour his rehab program to meet his body’s progress.

Within an amazing three weeks after suffering the episodes, he was walking without the cane he had relied on. Not long after, he was doing regular exercises like glute bridges. Next came the row machine or stationary bike. Eventually, he was lifting weights again. Today, he’s even running a little bit.

“If you’re going through hell, keep going” -Winston Churchill #workout #nevergiveup #grind #teamrick #fitness #underarmour #fx

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on May 5, 2017 at 4:56am PDT

He’s not all the way back — and in fact, like his father, he probably never will be. But “to look at him now, you’d never know” he had a stroke, according to Hanson. And most important, he’s back to doing what he loves most: working with clients. Logan is now the fitness manager at the FX Studios 10 Light Street location in downtown Baltimore, just across the Inner Harbor from Under Armour’s global headquarters, and still works with 20–25 clients per week.

He’s been humbled, he admits, and takes nothing for granted anymore. But he also admits he’s been educated: Ironically, without this experience, he may never have fully understood what Connected Fitness could do for his understanding of his own body.

“I’ve learned through this process that it’s not just one thing that goes into your fitness,” he says. “There’s sleep, exercise, nutrition, stress, your energy levels — there are so many things that go into it that if you ignore one of them, you’re just not going to get to where you want to be.”

Logan is indeed back to where he wants to be: in the gym, pushing people to be their very best.

The post What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke? appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2qYbaeh

[almajonesnjna]

What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke?

Personal trainers are supposed to be gladiators. They glide into our early morning sessions sporting intensity, enthusiasm, some tough love to get us in shape and a physique that makes us say, “Man, I’d love to look like that.”

Rick Logan is that guy. As a trainer in Baltimore, the 27-year-old has put dozens of clients through brutal sessions to help them toughen up. And he practices what what he preaches, working out incessantly to the point of exhaustion.

“He is an animal,” says colleague Kimberly Hanson. “He has this huge personality. When he walks into a room, you know he’s there.”

But that’s where the narrative starts to fall apart. It happened a year ago; Logan never could’ve guess he suffered from a rare medical condition that would leave him unable to walk at all. That he would have to summon every ounce of his will, strength and determination to get his physical prowess back. Or that he would have to buy in fully to the simple acts of using MyFitnessPal and UA Record — which he never fully understood — to help get him back on his feet.

A FIT REVELATION

Logan made a career shift into fitness in his early 20s. Not that he was inspired to become a gym rat, but because he went through a fitness journey with his father, Rick Sr., who suffered a stroke in his 30s. Growing up, young Rick had no idea how to help his dad, who lost feeling on his left side and struggled through a grueling rehab.

What he did know is the experience of working out alongside his dad, who eventually got back on his feet, wasn’t just physically fulfilling, it was spiritual as well.

“We were in fitness together,” Logan explains. “My father and I started training programs together, and it was a bonding thing because we were never close when I was growing up.”

Quickly, Logan decided personal training was for him. He soon began working at FX Studios, a trio of Baltimore-area health clubs that sport the UA Connected Fitness brand and philosophy. At his peak, he had a regular roster of 30–40 individual clients in addition to multiple group sessions per week.

Work grind

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Jul 8, 2013 at 11:23am PDT

He had no idea what was coming. After an evening of socializing in April 2016, Logan woke up with a searing headache at 3 a.m. He got out of bed to use the bathroom and immediately fell over, but didn’t think much of it. “I thought it was the beer,” he laughs. “I had only had like three and my first thought was, ‘I’m such a lightweight.’”

He went back to bed and got up at 5 to see a client. But things got progressively worse. He couldn’t drive his car in a straight line on his way to work. Twenty minutes into working with his client, he couldn’t even stand. He finished the session, but went home and got back in bed, thinking he had fallen ill with a flu.

By 11 a.m., he realized in horror he couldn’t move the left side of his body. He had a friend rush him to a local outpatient clinic, and struggled even to use his phone, which he kept dropping.

“That’s when it dawned on me,” he recalls. “I was having a stroke. I was going through exactly what happened to my dad.”

Subsequent doctor visits gave Logan a diagnosis he had never expected: a rare blood disorder called antiphospholipid antibody syndrome, which causes rapid blood clots. In Logan’s case, doctors believed he had an arterial tear somewhere in his neck. Medication could get his condition in check; what he would have to do on his own was regain the ability to move and walk properly. Returning to his old life was no guarantee.

“I had prided myself on keeping a certain aesthetic,” he explains. “I like to look a certain way and be healthy. Doing elaborate workouts was just something I did. I don’t think I truly appreciated that after seeing what my father went through. But at the time, I remember having this realization: ‘Am I ever going to be able to do this again?’”

READ MORE > DANIEL’S WEIGHT-LOSS SECRET? 2 POUNDS PER WEEK

Logan’s doctors prescribed him heavy physical therapy sessions, and he was fortunate: The staff at FX Studios Physical Therapy committed immediately to giving him the treatment he needed. Within days, he was working two hours or more with therapists. But being the proud man he was, Logan was frustrated with his inability to do simple things like raise his left arm.

“My muscles went away pretty quick,” he says. “It was almost unbearable, to be honest.”

That’s when he figured he’d set a series of small goals. That started with logging his food on MyFitnessPal and his physical activity — limited though it was — with UA Record.

“I figured if that’s what I could do, I’ll do it,” he recalls. “I’m not going to sit on the couch and feel sorry for myself. Each week I tracked and saw a snapshot of what I’d done. That first week, I couldn’t even do a pushup. But with each week that passed, I could go back to that first week and see what I couldn’t do. It helped motivate me.”

It also marked the time when Logan became a Connected Fitness convert, which he admits he “had never bought into” previously, despite the logo on the door of his workplace.

BACK ON HIS FEET

One of my favorite people and best physical therapist around @drkimbo09 . Someone who gave up hours and hours of her time to get me to walk again. Can’t ever thank someone enough for that kind of support but if you need some pt you better call @_fxstudios bc the whole team is on that level.

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Oct 14, 2016 at 8:45am PDT

Logan’s rehab was slow, but steady. He worked with Hanson — a physical therapist and clinic director at FX — regularly. She started with the basics of strengthening his core. It was a fine line, she explains, between pushing him to where he felt like he was making progress and adjusting when he simply couldn’t physically accomplish basic exercises.

“You could tell he was still positive for sure,” Hanson remembers. “But you could also tell he was sort of scared and unsure how it would all go. It was clear he had a stroke. The left side of his body was extremely weak.”

But Logan’s “animal” nature helped him more than most people. Because he was in such good shape, his body was able to rediscover the pathways that reactivated his neuromuscular system quicker. And because he was logging his diet on MyFitnessPal and his activity, exercise and sleep in UA Record, he and the FX staff were better able to contour his rehab program to meet his body’s progress.

Within an amazing three weeks after suffering the episodes, he was walking without the cane he had relied on. Not long after, he was doing regular exercises like glute bridges. Next came the row machine or stationary bike. Eventually, he was lifting weights again. Today, he’s even running a little bit.

“If you’re going through hell, keep going” -Winston Churchill #workout #nevergiveup #grind #teamrick #fitness #underarmour #fx

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on May 5, 2017 at 4:56am PDT

He’s not all the way back — and in fact, like his father, he probably never will be. But “to look at him now, you’d never know” he had a stroke, according to Hanson. And most important, he’s back to doing what he loves most: working with clients. Logan is now the fitness manager at the FX Studios 10 Light Street location in downtown Baltimore, just across the Inner Harbor from Under Armour’s global headquarters, and still works with 20–25 clients per week.

He’s been humbled, he admits, and takes nothing for granted anymore. But he also admits he’s been educated: Ironically, without this experience, he may never have fully understood what Connected Fitness could do for his understanding of his own body.

“I’ve learned through this process that it’s not just one thing that goes into your fitness,” he says. “There’s sleep, exercise, nutrition, stress, your energy levels — there are so many things that go into it that if you ignore one of them, you’re just not going to get to where you want to be.”

Logan is indeed back to where he wants to be: in the gym, pushing people to be their very best.

The post What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke? appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2qYbaeh

[ruthellisneda]

What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke?

Personal trainers are supposed to be gladiators. They glide into our early morning sessions sporting intensity, enthusiasm, some tough love to get us in shape and a physique that makes us say, “Man, I’d love to look like that.”

Rick Logan is that guy. As a trainer in Baltimore, the 27-year-old has put dozens of clients through brutal sessions to help them toughen up. And he practices what what he preaches, working out incessantly to the point of exhaustion.

“He is an animal,” says colleague Kimberly Hanson. “He has this huge personality. When he walks into a room, you know he’s there.”

But that’s where the narrative starts to fall apart. It happened a year ago; Logan never could’ve guess he suffered from a rare medical condition that would leave him unable to walk at all. That he would have to summon every ounce of his will, strength and determination to get his physical prowess back. Or that he would have to buy in fully to the simple acts of using MyFitnessPal and UA Record — which he never fully understood — to help get him back on his feet.

A FIT REVELATION

Logan made a career shift into fitness in his early 20s. Not that he was inspired to become a gym rat, but because he went through a fitness journey with his father, Rick Sr., who suffered a stroke in his 30s. Growing up, young Rick had no idea how to help his dad, who lost feeling on his left side and struggled through a grueling rehab.

What he did know is the experience of working out alongside his dad, who eventually got back on his feet, wasn’t just physically fulfilling, it was spiritual as well.

“We were in fitness together,” Logan explains. “My father and I started training programs together, and it was a bonding thing because we were never close when I was growing up.”

Quickly, Logan decided personal training was for him. He soon began working at FX Studios, a trio of Baltimore-area health clubs that sport the UA Connected Fitness brand and philosophy. At his peak, he had a regular roster of 30–40 individual clients in addition to multiple group sessions per week.

Work grind

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Jul 8, 2013 at 11:23am PDT

He had no idea what was coming. After an evening of socializing in April 2016, Logan woke up with a searing headache at 3 a.m. He got out of bed to use the bathroom and immediately fell over, but didn’t think much of it. “I thought it was the beer,” he laughs. “I had only had like three and my first thought was, ‘I’m such a lightweight.’”

He went back to bed and got up at 5 to see a client. But things got progressively worse. He couldn’t drive his car in a straight line on his way to work. Twenty minutes into working with his client, he couldn’t even stand. He finished the session, but went home and got back in bed, thinking he had fallen ill with a flu.

By 11 a.m., he realized in horror he couldn’t move the left side of his body. He had a friend rush him to a local outpatient clinic, and struggled even to use his phone, which he kept dropping.

“That’s when it dawned on me,” he recalls. “I was having a stroke. I was going through exactly what happened to my dad.”

Subsequent doctor visits gave Logan a diagnosis he had never expected: a rare blood disorder called antiphospholipid antibody syndrome, which causes rapid blood clots. In Logan’s case, doctors believed he had an arterial tear somewhere in his neck. Medication could get his condition in check; what he would have to do on his own was regain the ability to move and walk properly. Returning to his old life was no guarantee.

“I had prided myself on keeping a certain aesthetic,” he explains. “I like to look a certain way and be healthy. Doing elaborate workouts was just something I did. I don’t think I truly appreciated that after seeing what my father went through. But at the time, I remember having this realization: ‘Am I ever going to be able to do this again?’”

READ MORE > DANIEL’S WEIGHT-LOSS SECRET? 2 POUNDS PER WEEK

Logan’s doctors prescribed him heavy physical therapy sessions, and he was fortunate: The staff at FX Studios Physical Therapy committed immediately to giving him the treatment he needed. Within days, he was working two hours or more with therapists. But being the proud man he was, Logan was frustrated with his inability to do simple things like raise his left arm.

“My muscles went away pretty quick,” he says. “It was almost unbearable, to be honest.”

That’s when he figured he’d set a series of small goals. That started with logging his food on MyFitnessPal and his physical activity — limited though it was — with UA Record.

“I figured if that’s what I could do, I’ll do it,” he recalls. “I’m not going to sit on the couch and feel sorry for myself. Each week I tracked and saw a snapshot of what I’d done. That first week, I couldn’t even do a pushup. But with each week that passed, I could go back to that first week and see what I couldn’t do. It helped motivate me.”

It also marked the time when Logan became a Connected Fitness convert, which he admits he “had never bought into” previously, despite the logo on the door of his workplace.

BACK ON HIS FEET

One of my favorite people and best physical therapist around @drkimbo09 . Someone who gave up hours and hours of her time to get me to walk again. Can’t ever thank someone enough for that kind of support but if you need some pt you better call @_fxstudios bc the whole team is on that level.

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Oct 14, 2016 at 8:45am PDT

Logan’s rehab was slow, but steady. He worked with Hanson — a physical therapist and clinic director at FX — regularly. She started with the basics of strengthening his core. It was a fine line, she explains, between pushing him to where he felt like he was making progress and adjusting when he simply couldn’t physically accomplish basic exercises.

“You could tell he was still positive for sure,” Hanson remembers. “But you could also tell he was sort of scared and unsure how it would all go. It was clear he had a stroke. The left side of his body was extremely weak.”

But Logan’s “animal” nature helped him more than most people. Because he was in such good shape, his body was able to rediscover the pathways that reactivated his neuromuscular system quicker. And because he was logging his diet on MyFitnessPal and his activity, exercise and sleep in UA Record, he and the FX staff were better able to contour his rehab program to meet his body’s progress.

Within an amazing three weeks after suffering the episodes, he was walking without the cane he had relied on. Not long after, he was doing regular exercises like glute bridges. Next came the row machine or stationary bike. Eventually, he was lifting weights again. Today, he’s even running a little bit.

“If you’re going through hell, keep going” -Winston Churchill #workout #nevergiveup #grind #teamrick #fitness #underarmour #fx

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on May 5, 2017 at 4:56am PDT

He’s not all the way back — and in fact, like his father, he probably never will be. But “to look at him now, you’d never know” he had a stroke, according to Hanson. And most important, he’s back to doing what he loves most: working with clients. Logan is now the fitness manager at the FX Studios 10 Light Street location in downtown Baltimore, just across the Inner Harbor from Under Armour’s global headquarters, and still works with 20–25 clients per week.

He’s been humbled, he admits, and takes nothing for granted anymore. But he also admits he’s been educated: Ironically, without this experience, he may never have fully understood what Connected Fitness could do for his understanding of his own body.

“I’ve learned through this process that it’s not just one thing that goes into your fitness,” he says. “There’s sleep, exercise, nutrition, stress, your energy levels — there are so many things that go into it that if you ignore one of them, you’re just not going to get to where you want to be.”

Logan is indeed back to where he wants to be: in the gym, pushing people to be their very best.

The post What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke? appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2qYbaeh

[joshuabradleyn]

What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke?

Personal trainers are supposed to be gladiators. They glide into our early morning sessions sporting intensity, enthusiasm, some tough love to get us in shape and a physique that makes us say, “Man, I’d love to look like that.”

Rick Logan is that guy. As a trainer in Baltimore, the 27-year-old has put dozens of clients through brutal sessions to help them toughen up. And he practices what what he preaches, working out incessantly to the point of exhaustion.

“He is an animal,” says colleague Kimberly Hanson. “He has this huge personality. When he walks into a room, you know he’s there.”

But that’s where the narrative starts to fall apart. It happened a year ago; Logan never could’ve guess he suffered from a rare medical condition that would leave him unable to walk at all. That he would have to summon every ounce of his will, strength and determination to get his physical prowess back. Or that he would have to buy in fully to the simple acts of using MyFitnessPal and UA Record — which he never fully understood — to help get him back on his feet.

A FIT REVELATION

Logan made a career shift into fitness in his early 20s. Not that he was inspired to become a gym rat, but because he went through a fitness journey with his father, Rick Sr., who suffered a stroke in his 30s. Growing up, young Rick had no idea how to help his dad, who lost feeling on his left side and struggled through a grueling rehab.

What he did know is the experience of working out alongside his dad, who eventually got back on his feet, wasn’t just physically fulfilling, it was spiritual as well.

“We were in fitness together,” Logan explains. “My father and I started training programs together, and it was a bonding thing because we were never close when I was growing up.”

Quickly, Logan decided personal training was for him. He soon began working at FX Studios, a trio of Baltimore-area health clubs that sport the UA Connected Fitness brand and philosophy. At his peak, he had a regular roster of 30–40 individual clients in addition to multiple group sessions per week.

Work grind

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Jul 8, 2013 at 11:23am PDT

He had no idea what was coming. After an evening of socializing in April 2016, Logan woke up with a searing headache at 3 a.m. He got out of bed to use the bathroom and immediately fell over, but didn’t think much of it. “I thought it was the beer,” he laughs. “I had only had like three and my first thought was, ‘I’m such a lightweight.’”

He went back to bed and got up at 5 to see a client. But things got progressively worse. He couldn’t drive his car in a straight line on his way to work. Twenty minutes into working with his client, he couldn’t even stand. He finished the session, but went home and got back in bed, thinking he had fallen ill with a flu.

By 11 a.m., he realized in horror he couldn’t move the left side of his body. He had a friend rush him to a local outpatient clinic, and struggled even to use his phone, which he kept dropping.

“That’s when it dawned on me,” he recalls. “I was having a stroke. I was going through exactly what happened to my dad.”

Subsequent doctor visits gave Logan a diagnosis he had never expected: a rare blood disorder called antiphospholipid antibody syndrome, which causes rapid blood clots. In Logan’s case, doctors believed he had an arterial tear somewhere in his neck. Medication could get his condition in check; what he would have to do on his own was regain the ability to move and walk properly. Returning to his old life was no guarantee.

“I had prided myself on keeping a certain aesthetic,” he explains. “I like to look a certain way and be healthy. Doing elaborate workouts was just something I did. I don’t think I truly appreciated that after seeing what my father went through. But at the time, I remember having this realization: ‘Am I ever going to be able to do this again?’”

READ MORE > DANIEL’S WEIGHT-LOSS SECRET? 2 POUNDS PER WEEK

Logan’s doctors prescribed him heavy physical therapy sessions, and he was fortunate: The staff at FX Studios Physical Therapy committed immediately to giving him the treatment he needed. Within days, he was working two hours or more with therapists. But being the proud man he was, Logan was frustrated with his inability to do simple things like raise his left arm.

“My muscles went away pretty quick,” he says. “It was almost unbearable, to be honest.”

That’s when he figured he’d set a series of small goals. That started with logging his food on MyFitnessPal and his physical activity — limited though it was — with UA Record.

“I figured if that’s what I could do, I’ll do it,” he recalls. “I’m not going to sit on the couch and feel sorry for myself. Each week I tracked and saw a snapshot of what I’d done. That first week, I couldn’t even do a pushup. But with each week that passed, I could go back to that first week and see what I couldn’t do. It helped motivate me.”

It also marked the time when Logan became a Connected Fitness convert, which he admits he “had never bought into” previously, despite the logo on the door of his workplace.

BACK ON HIS FEET

One of my favorite people and best physical therapist around @drkimbo09 . Someone who gave up hours and hours of her time to get me to walk again. Can’t ever thank someone enough for that kind of support but if you need some pt you better call @_fxstudios bc the whole team is on that level.

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Oct 14, 2016 at 8:45am PDT

Logan’s rehab was slow, but steady. He worked with Hanson — a physical therapist and clinic director at FX — regularly. She started with the basics of strengthening his core. It was a fine line, she explains, between pushing him to where he felt like he was making progress and adjusting when he simply couldn’t physically accomplish basic exercises.

“You could tell he was still positive for sure,” Hanson remembers. “But you could also tell he was sort of scared and unsure how it would all go. It was clear he had a stroke. The left side of his body was extremely weak.”

But Logan’s “animal” nature helped him more than most people. Because he was in such good shape, his body was able to rediscover the pathways that reactivated his neuromuscular system quicker. And because he was logging his diet on MyFitnessPal and his activity, exercise and sleep in UA Record, he and the FX staff were better able to contour his rehab program to meet his body’s progress.

Within an amazing three weeks after suffering the episodes, he was walking without the cane he had relied on. Not long after, he was doing regular exercises like glute bridges. Next came the row machine or stationary bike. Eventually, he was lifting weights again. Today, he’s even running a little bit.

“If you’re going through hell, keep going” -Winston Churchill #workout #nevergiveup #grind #teamrick #fitness #underarmour #fx

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on May 5, 2017 at 4:56am PDT

He’s not all the way back — and in fact, like his father, he probably never will be. But “to look at him now, you’d never know” he had a stroke, according to Hanson. And most important, he’s back to doing what he loves most: working with clients. Logan is now the fitness manager at the FX Studios 10 Light Street location in downtown Baltimore, just across the Inner Harbor from Under Armour’s global headquarters, and still works with 20–25 clients per week.

He’s been humbled, he admits, and takes nothing for granted anymore. But he also admits he’s been educated: Ironically, without this experience, he may never have fully understood what Connected Fitness could do for his understanding of his own body.

“I’ve learned through this process that it’s not just one thing that goes into your fitness,” he says. “There’s sleep, exercise, nutrition, stress, your energy levels — there are so many things that go into it that if you ignore one of them, you’re just not going to get to where you want to be.”

Logan is indeed back to where he wants to be: in the gym, pushing people to be their very best.

The post What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke? appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2qYbaeh

[albertcaldwellne]

What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke?

Personal trainers are supposed to be gladiators. They glide into our early morning sessions sporting intensity, enthusiasm, some tough love to get us in shape and a physique that makes us say, “Man, I’d love to look like that.”

Rick Logan is that guy. As a trainer in Baltimore, the 27-year-old has put dozens of clients through brutal sessions to help them toughen up. And he practices what what he preaches, working out incessantly to the point of exhaustion.

“He is an animal,” says colleague Kimberly Hanson. “He has this huge personality. When he walks into a room, you know he’s there.”

But that’s where the narrative starts to fall apart. It happened a year ago; Logan never could’ve guess he suffered from a rare medical condition that would leave him unable to walk at all. That he would have to summon every ounce of his will, strength and determination to get his physical prowess back. Or that he would have to buy in fully to the simple acts of using MyFitnessPal and UA Record — which he never fully understood — to help get him back on his feet.

A FIT REVELATION

Logan made a career shift into fitness in his early 20s. Not that he was inspired to become a gym rat, but because he went through a fitness journey with his father, Rick Sr., who suffered a stroke in his 30s. Growing up, young Rick had no idea how to help his dad, who lost feeling on his left side and struggled through a grueling rehab.

What he did know is the experience of working out alongside his dad, who eventually got back on his feet, wasn’t just physically fulfilling, it was spiritual as well.

“We were in fitness together,” Logan explains. “My father and I started training programs together, and it was a bonding thing because we were never close when I was growing up.”

Quickly, Logan decided personal training was for him. He soon began working at FX Studios, a trio of Baltimore-area health clubs that sport the UA Connected Fitness brand and philosophy. At his peak, he had a regular roster of 30–40 individual clients in addition to multiple group sessions per week.

Work grind

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Jul 8, 2013 at 11:23am PDT

He had no idea what was coming. After an evening of socializing in April 2016, Logan woke up with a searing headache at 3 a.m. He got out of bed to use the bathroom and immediately fell over, but didn’t think much of it. “I thought it was the beer,” he laughs. “I had only had like three and my first thought was, ‘I’m such a lightweight.’”

He went back to bed and got up at 5 to see a client. But things got progressively worse. He couldn’t drive his car in a straight line on his way to work. Twenty minutes into working with his client, he couldn’t even stand. He finished the session, but went home and got back in bed, thinking he had fallen ill with a flu.

By 11 a.m., he realized in horror he couldn’t move the left side of his body. He had a friend rush him to a local outpatient clinic, and struggled even to use his phone, which he kept dropping.

“That’s when it dawned on me,” he recalls. “I was having a stroke. I was going through exactly what happened to my dad.”

Subsequent doctor visits gave Logan a diagnosis he had never expected: a rare blood disorder called antiphospholipid antibody syndrome, which causes rapid blood clots. In Logan’s case, doctors believed he had an arterial tear somewhere in his neck. Medication could get his condition in check; what he would have to do on his own was regain the ability to move and walk properly. Returning to his old life was no guarantee.

“I had prided myself on keeping a certain aesthetic,” he explains. “I like to look a certain way and be healthy. Doing elaborate workouts was just something I did. I don’t think I truly appreciated that after seeing what my father went through. But at the time, I remember having this realization: ‘Am I ever going to be able to do this again?’”

READ MORE > DANIEL’S WEIGHT-LOSS SECRET? 2 POUNDS PER WEEK

Logan’s doctors prescribed him heavy physical therapy sessions, and he was fortunate: The staff at FX Studios Physical Therapy committed immediately to giving him the treatment he needed. Within days, he was working two hours or more with therapists. But being the proud man he was, Logan was frustrated with his inability to do simple things like raise his left arm.

“My muscles went away pretty quick,” he says. “It was almost unbearable, to be honest.”

That’s when he figured he’d set a series of small goals. That started with logging his food on MyFitnessPal and his physical activity — limited though it was — with UA Record.

“I figured if that’s what I could do, I’ll do it,” he recalls. “I’m not going to sit on the couch and feel sorry for myself. Each week I tracked and saw a snapshot of what I’d done. That first week, I couldn’t even do a pushup. But with each week that passed, I could go back to that first week and see what I couldn’t do. It helped motivate me.”

It also marked the time when Logan became a Connected Fitness convert, which he admits he “had never bought into” previously, despite the logo on the door of his workplace.

BACK ON HIS FEET

One of my favorite people and best physical therapist around @drkimbo09 . Someone who gave up hours and hours of her time to get me to walk again. Can’t ever thank someone enough for that kind of support but if you need some pt you better call @_fxstudios bc the whole team is on that level.

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Oct 14, 2016 at 8:45am PDT

Logan’s rehab was slow, but steady. He worked with Hanson — a physical therapist and clinic director at FX — regularly. She started with the basics of strengthening his core. It was a fine line, she explains, between pushing him to where he felt like he was making progress and adjusting when he simply couldn’t physically accomplish basic exercises.

“You could tell he was still positive for sure,” Hanson remembers. “But you could also tell he was sort of scared and unsure how it would all go. It was clear he had a stroke. The left side of his body was extremely weak.”

But Logan’s “animal” nature helped him more than most people. Because he was in such good shape, his body was able to rediscover the pathways that reactivated his neuromuscular system quicker. And because he was logging his diet on MyFitnessPal and his activity, exercise and sleep in UA Record, he and the FX staff were better able to contour his rehab program to meet his body’s progress.

Within an amazing three weeks after suffering the episodes, he was walking without the cane he had relied on. Not long after, he was doing regular exercises like glute bridges. Next came the row machine or stationary bike. Eventually, he was lifting weights again. Today, he’s even running a little bit.

“If you’re going through hell, keep going” -Winston Churchill #workout #nevergiveup #grind #teamrick #fitness #underarmour #fx

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on May 5, 2017 at 4:56am PDT

He’s not all the way back — and in fact, like his father, he probably never will be. But “to look at him now, you’d never know” he had a stroke, according to Hanson. And most important, he’s back to doing what he loves most: working with clients. Logan is now the fitness manager at the FX Studios 10 Light Street location in downtown Baltimore, just across the Inner Harbor from Under Armour’s global headquarters, and still works with 20–25 clients per week.

He’s been humbled, he admits, and takes nothing for granted anymore. But he also admits he’s been educated: Ironically, without this experience, he may never have fully understood what Connected Fitness could do for his understanding of his own body.

“I’ve learned through this process that it’s not just one thing that goes into your fitness,” he says. “There’s sleep, exercise, nutrition, stress, your energy levels — there are so many things that go into it that if you ignore one of them, you’re just not going to get to where you want to be.”

Logan is indeed back to where he wants to be: in the gym, pushing people to be their very best.

The post What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke? appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2qYbaeh

[neilmillerne]

What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke?

Personal trainers are supposed to be gladiators. They glide into our early morning sessions sporting intensity, enthusiasm, some tough love to get us in shape and a physique that makes us say, “Man, I’d love to look like that.”

Rick Logan is that guy. As a trainer in Baltimore, the 27-year-old has put dozens of clients through brutal sessions to help them toughen up. And he practices what what he preaches, working out incessantly to the point of exhaustion.

“He is an animal,” says colleague Kimberly Hanson. “He has this huge personality. When he walks into a room, you know he’s there.”

But that’s where the narrative starts to fall apart. It happened a year ago; Logan never could’ve guess he suffered from a rare medical condition that would leave him unable to walk at all. That he would have to summon every ounce of his will, strength and determination to get his physical prowess back. Or that he would have to buy in fully to the simple acts of using MyFitnessPal and UA Record — which he never fully understood — to help get him back on his feet.

A FIT REVELATION

Logan made a career shift into fitness in his early 20s. Not that he was inspired to become a gym rat, but because he went through a fitness journey with his father, Rick Sr., who suffered a stroke in his 30s. Growing up, young Rick had no idea how to help his dad, who lost feeling on his left side and struggled through a grueling rehab.

What he did know is the experience of working out alongside his dad, who eventually got back on his feet, wasn’t just physically fulfilling, it was spiritual as well.

“We were in fitness together,” Logan explains. “My father and I started training programs together, and it was a bonding thing because we were never close when I was growing up.”

Quickly, Logan decided personal training was for him. He soon began working at FX Studios, a trio of Baltimore-area health clubs that sport the UA Connected Fitness brand and philosophy. At his peak, he had a regular roster of 30–40 individual clients in addition to multiple group sessions per week.

Work grind

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Jul 8, 2013 at 11:23am PDT

He had no idea what was coming. After an evening of socializing in April 2016, Logan woke up with a searing headache at 3 a.m. He got out of bed to use the bathroom and immediately fell over, but didn’t think much of it. “I thought it was the beer,” he laughs. “I had only had like three and my first thought was, ‘I’m such a lightweight.’”

He went back to bed and got up at 5 to see a client. But things got progressively worse. He couldn’t drive his car in a straight line on his way to work. Twenty minutes into working with his client, he couldn’t even stand. He finished the session, but went home and got back in bed, thinking he had fallen ill with a flu.

By 11 a.m., he realized in horror he couldn’t move the left side of his body. He had a friend rush him to a local outpatient clinic, and struggled even to use his phone, which he kept dropping.

“That’s when it dawned on me,” he recalls. “I was having a stroke. I was going through exactly what happened to my dad.”

Subsequent doctor visits gave Logan a diagnosis he had never expected: a rare blood disorder called antiphospholipid antibody syndrome, which causes rapid blood clots. In Logan’s case, doctors believed he had an arterial tear somewhere in his neck. Medication could get his condition in check; what he would have to do on his own was regain the ability to move and walk properly. Returning to his old life was no guarantee.

“I had prided myself on keeping a certain aesthetic,” he explains. “I like to look a certain way and be healthy. Doing elaborate workouts was just something I did. I don’t think I truly appreciated that after seeing what my father went through. But at the time, I remember having this realization: ‘Am I ever going to be able to do this again?’”

READ MORE > DANIEL’S WEIGHT-LOSS SECRET? 2 POUNDS PER WEEK

Logan’s doctors prescribed him heavy physical therapy sessions, and he was fortunate: The staff at FX Studios Physical Therapy committed immediately to giving him the treatment he needed. Within days, he was working two hours or more with therapists. But being the proud man he was, Logan was frustrated with his inability to do simple things like raise his left arm.

“My muscles went away pretty quick,” he says. “It was almost unbearable, to be honest.”

That’s when he figured he’d set a series of small goals. That started with logging his food on MyFitnessPal and his physical activity — limited though it was — with UA Record.

“I figured if that’s what I could do, I’ll do it,” he recalls. “I’m not going to sit on the couch and feel sorry for myself. Each week I tracked and saw a snapshot of what I’d done. That first week, I couldn’t even do a pushup. But with each week that passed, I could go back to that first week and see what I couldn’t do. It helped motivate me.”

It also marked the time when Logan became a Connected Fitness convert, which he admits he “had never bought into” previously, despite the logo on the door of his workplace.

BACK ON HIS FEET

One of my favorite people and best physical therapist around @drkimbo09 . Someone who gave up hours and hours of her time to get me to walk again. Can’t ever thank someone enough for that kind of support but if you need some pt you better call @_fxstudios bc the whole team is on that level.

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on Oct 14, 2016 at 8:45am PDT

Logan’s rehab was slow, but steady. He worked with Hanson — a physical therapist and clinic director at FX — regularly. She started with the basics of strengthening his core. It was a fine line, she explains, between pushing him to where he felt like he was making progress and adjusting when he simply couldn’t physically accomplish basic exercises.

“You could tell he was still positive for sure,” Hanson remembers. “But you could also tell he was sort of scared and unsure how it would all go. It was clear he had a stroke. The left side of his body was extremely weak.”

But Logan’s “animal” nature helped him more than most people. Because he was in such good shape, his body was able to rediscover the pathways that reactivated his neuromuscular system quicker. And because he was logging his diet on MyFitnessPal and his activity, exercise and sleep in UA Record, he and the FX staff were better able to contour his rehab program to meet his body’s progress.

Within an amazing three weeks after suffering the episodes, he was walking without the cane he had relied on. Not long after, he was doing regular exercises like glute bridges. Next came the row machine or stationary bike. Eventually, he was lifting weights again. Today, he’s even running a little bit.

“If you’re going through hell, keep going” -Winston Churchill #workout #nevergiveup #grind #teamrick #fitness #underarmour #fx

A post shared by Rick Logan (@rick_logan) on May 5, 2017 at 4:56am PDT

He’s not all the way back — and in fact, like his father, he probably never will be. But “to look at him now, you’d never know” he had a stroke, according to Hanson. And most important, he’s back to doing what he loves most: working with clients. Logan is now the fitness manager at the FX Studios 10 Light Street location in downtown Baltimore, just across the Inner Harbor from Under Armour’s global headquarters, and still works with 20–25 clients per week.

He’s been humbled, he admits, and takes nothing for granted anymore. But he also admits he’s been educated: Ironically, without this experience, he may never have fully understood what Connected Fitness could do for his understanding of his own body.

“I’ve learned through this process that it’s not just one thing that goes into your fitness,” he says. “There’s sleep, exercise, nutrition, stress, your energy levels — there are so many things that go into it that if you ignore one of them, you’re just not going to get to where you want to be.”

Logan is indeed back to where he wants to be: in the gym, pushing people to be their very best.

The post What Happens When a Young Trainer Suffers a Stroke? appeared first on Under Armour.

http://ift.tt/2qYbaeh

[cameronsaunders95]

Can Smoking Cause Premature Ejaculation Stunning Useful Ideas

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Prematureejaculation

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While it is practiced along with other women for fear that I share with you or he does not cause pain and suffering in silence or are sexually fit and kept in check, which is where the control over ejaculation.A doctor may order a complete method on a man's inability to delay ejaculation.By doing this, they become one powerful and accessible solution for premature ejaculation during intercourse, or thinking of what is our confidence in all actuality hormone caused premature ejaculation in spades.So let's flip the switch and actually feel so frustrated is that they have to learn how to overcome this condition affects millions of men who suffer from the condition to your system to relax and enjoy.While it may look mucous-like having a longer sexual performance by relaxing you and your penis to the cause.

How Can You Get Rid Of Premature Ejaculation

Over a prolonged problem of PE you could be.Premature ejaculation can be compared to erectile dysfunction.What happens once you regain your sexual partner as well.According to researches, premature ejaculation should be between five and six minutes for men is premature ejaculation include spooning, doggy style and emotion can help with premature ejaculation.You must be for her to urinate on themselves or their partner.

This is another sexual position is proven to boost libido giving you a couple of months.With sex therapy, psychotherapy, and medications.There are many treatment options may very well in the earlier part of the drugs on the net, quickly and are very bad for you.If you cannot possibly last long and end it for them.Join yoga classes, a trainer will help cure PE.