#bleeding gums london

[emergencydentistuk]

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[zapiarty]

Sandman - Dead Boy Detective

1389 - Dream & Death meet Hob Gadling; who refuses to die 1489 - Dream & Hob form their Arrangement 1589 - Hob brags about how good he's got it, with a wife, a son, riches and a knighthood. Dream decides to leave early upon meeting William Shaxberd 1689 - Dream waits for Hob's arrival, who is at his lowest point in his life thus far, Dream expects Hob to ask for death now and is surprised when Hob laughs in his face and says "Death is a mug's game, I've got so much to live for!" 1789 - Dream warns Hob against getting involved with the Slave Trade, Lady Johanna Constantine interrupts their meeting, Hob comes to Dream's rescue briefly which amuses him 1889 - Hob wants to learn things about Dream, dares to suggest he's lonely and that they are friends, Dream storms off in a huff declaring he doesn't need Hob's company

1916 - Edwin Payne dies via ritual sacrifice to Hell by classmates at 16 - The Corinthian begins his mayhem in the Waking World - Dream of the Endless is captured & imprisoned by Roderick Burgess 1917 - Sleeping Sickness officially acknowledged - Unity Kincaid remains asleep

1926 - Ethel Cripps becomes Roderick Burgess' mistress - Roderick has his son Alex kill Jessamy the Raven - Ethel gets pregnant, steals the helm, sand, and ruby and flees - Roderick dies, Alex decides not to free Dream like he'd promised 1927? - Ethel Cripps gives birth to John D

? - Ethel bargains away the helm to a demon, sells the sand

1989 - Edwin Payne escapes Hell - Hob Gadling waits for His Stranger but he does not arrive (As Dream is still held captive in the Burgess' Estate) - Charles Rowland is murdered by classmates via hypothermia & internal bleeding at 16 in December of '89 - Edwin is there for Charles to ease his death; Charles decides to stay with Edwin instead of going with Death - Some point Edwin & Charles form the Dead Boy Detectives

1994 - Infamous Puppy Debacle (Charles got too attached to a living puppy?)

March 22, 1994 - Devlin Murders occur in Port Townsend, Washington

1997 - Great Fenwick Pixie Escape (puts Edwin at a loss)

2006 - Great Chewing Gum Debacle (stressor for Edwin?)

2015 - Rose Walker & her little brother Jed are split when Rose and their mother Miranda move but her father refuses to let Jed leave with them

2020 - Lyta's husband Hector dies via a car accident, Rose's ill mother dies near the end of the year

2021 - Dream/Morpheus is released & searches for his tools to rebuild the Dreaming - Unity Kincaid wakes the moment Dream is released - Johanna Constantine purchases the sand but left it at a girlfriend's place when she left her 6 months prior (resulting in her death via the sand) - Dream faces Lucifer in Challenge for his helm; wins & humiliates Lucifer - John D uses the Ruby to nearly destroy the world in an attempt to make a better one; causing mass destruction and death, destroys the ruby in an attempt to destroy Dream and replace him but this only returns the stored power to Dream in full

8 Months later: - Death & Dream have a talk, Desire & Despair plot to knock Dream's ego down as Desire's previous attempts failed (Nada, Roderick Burgess); focus turns to Rose Walker (Desire's Great-Granddaughter) - Dream reconnects with Hob at The New Inn; 30 years late but acknowledging their friendship - Rose Walker is the Vortex and looking for her brother Jed who dreams of being The Sandman (thanks to Gault) - Unity Kincaid asks Rose to meet her in London to reveal she's her Great-Grandmother (the Great-Grandfather being her Gold Eyed Man aka Desire) - The Corinthian attempts to use her to create a New Dreaming - Lyta Hall gets pregnant from her ghost husband in the Dreaming; Dream banishes the ghost from his realm as Ghosts shouldn't be there - Morpheus collects all his lost Dreams & Nightmares; returns the Corinthian to his base form - Dream of a Thousand Cats - Calliope's most recent "owner" slips up and she is able to send a message to Morpheus who comes to free her (by driving the man who binds her insane with ideas)

Late 2022 - Crystal Palace & David the Demon enter into a relationship

2023 - Edwin & Charles take on the Case of Crystal Palace on behest of Emma the Ghost

- Becky Aspen case in Port Townsend, WA; meet Esther the Witch, get trapped in Port Townsend by the Cat King - Niko Sasaki & the Dandelion Sprites Case - February 17; The Devlin House Case (Charles' history brought up, meet Monty) - Case of the Lighthouse Leapers (Charles & Crystal kiss, Night Nurse fed to Sea Monster, Cat King taunts Edwin with Monty & Charles' likeness in an attempt to get a kiss) - Case of the Two Dead Dragons (Edwin realizes he's truly in love with Charles as he comforts Charles after a breakdown, Monty steals Edwin's first kiss thinking Edwin was talking about him) - Case of the Creeping Forest (Monty's betrayal, Crystal's Awakening) - Case of the Very Long Stairway; Edwin gets taken back to Hell & Charles goes after him, Edwin confesses he's in love with Charles - Edwin meets Despair and she decides they are "friends" now - Case of the Hungry Snake; Niko dies (?) saving Crystal from Esther Finch in an attempt to rescue Edwin & Charles - The Lost & Found Department of the Afterlife "officially" allows the Dead Boy Detectives to work cases to help them help ghosts cross over in exchange for allowing them to stay together on Earth

[thiefbird]

"tell me what's on your mind" in an angsty way for bridglar? (only if you want!)

oooooooh yes this is excellent!

Title from Henry Purcell's Cold Song

Far unfit to bear (on AO3)

What power art thou, who from below Hast made me rise unwillingly and slow From beds of everlasting, everlasting snow See'st thou not how stiff, how stiff and wondrous old Far unfit to bear the bitter cold I can scarcely move or draw my breath I can scarcely move or draw my breath Let me, let me freeze again Let me, let me freeze again to death Let me, let me freeze again to death

He and Henry had grown incautious, out on the ice and now on the sliding rocks. They weren't the only ones; there was no God here, no Articles to desecrate. Men clung to each other at night, taking comfort where they could. Hands clutched between two men hauling, leaning against each other while gnawing at hard — too hard for teeth loosened by scurvy — biscuit. A kiss, unafraid of eyes upon them.

"Tell me what's on your mind, love," he asked in that strange Arctic twilight of near-summer, their heads bent together — Captain Crozier was in with Captain Fitzjames, now, and he could do no more tonight.

Henry smiled, pressed his temple more firmly into John's shoulder, sighing as John's arm came up around him. "You'll think me silly."

"Perhaps I already think you silly, for thinking I might object to your humour." It was a poor attempt, and they both knew it, but Henry huffed out a laugh anyways.

"I shall miss this, when we make it back to England." They all said when still, though John doubted any among them believed it now. Not with men dropping like flies. Not with Hickey's mutineers. Not with that great demon of a bear chasing them.

"Sleeping on rocks and hauling sledges? I am certain we can find you something suitably sharp, even in London. Coal, perhaps." Henry's laugh was a little less halfhearted, a little less like he was indulging John in giving it, and John chuckled with him.

"Being so open, I mean. You won't touch me like this in England. You couldn't, not where people might see. It's wicked of me, but…"

John's eyes smarted, and he tipped his chin up to stare into the grey and unending sky lest he should begin to cry again. He would not shed tears for Henry till-

Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to Henry's hair, unheeding the grease that turned his curls limp and sticky. "Not a single sliver of you could I ever think was wicked," he murmured, grateful over all things for the freedoms granted at the ends of the earth. He would not give any amount of peace to be in London if Henry were not there beside him.

"I pray for our rescue," Henry continued, rolling his eyes at John's vehemence, "but I shall miss it, having had it."

If you live, Henry, John vowed, fierce in the privacy of his own heart, and then continued out loud: "I'll kiss you in St James's Park."

That startled a true laugh from Henry, twisting in John's arms to look up into his face. "You wouldn't. God, I don't know if I'd let you," he said, his smile wide enough to break John's heart with bleeding gums.

"I would, and you will. I'll kiss you in front of the Admiralty," if only you will live. He kissed Henry's temple, his cheek, tilted his chin until he could kiss him properly; Henry would not open his mouth into it, kept it chaste so John might not taste the blood. John hated him for it, even as his heart swelled with love for him.

John had cried when his captain collapsed on the rock. He cried for Captain Fitzjames, too frail to keep himself upright, and he cried for his Henry, so close behind. He cried for himself, too, and the loss of a man he considered a friend, and the loss he foresaw in Henry's bruises.

He thought he cried for Captain Crozier, most of all, and the tears he could not shed.

He had the luxury of weeping for his captain, for Henry. No man looked to him for leadership. He had the luxury, too, of touching Henry where men could see, under the open sky. He did not have to maintain his separation from the world the way a captain did, even now.

His Henry still walked, and smiled, and joked with him, and pushed him away for being absurd. He could kiss him on the shale, and under the sky, and — maybe, maybe, if God was merciful — in St James's Park in front of the ducks. He was luckier than he could imagine.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Illustrious Client pt 2

Last time we were dealing with a hypnotist, it seemed, who was doing everything short of tying women to railway tracks and twirling his moustaches to show Holmes how evil he is.

Honestly, it's probably a little surprising that it's taken this long for hypnotism to show up in these stories, as it seems right up ACD's alley

And we're about to meet an old friend of Holmes' who has simply never come up before.

...a huge, coarse, red-faced, scorbutic man, with a pair of vivid black eyes which were the only external sign of the very cunning mind within.

"Scorbutic" apparently means affected by scurvy, which I had never come across before. Does that mean his gums are bleeding? The NHS tells me it might also mean red or blue spots on the skin.

Mr Johnson, may I introduce you to the joys of... fruit and veg.

Please stop your gums from bleeding. Please.

...a slim, flame-like young woman with a pale, intense face, youthful, and yet so worn with sin and sorrow that one read the terrible years which had left their leprous mark upon her.

From scurvy to leprosy, once again being particularly flattering in your descriptions, Watson. Though I do love the 'flame-like' here. That's very evocative.

“Hell, London, gets me every time. Same address for Porky Shinwell. We're old mates, Porky, you and I. But, by cripes! there is another who ought to be down in a lower hell than we if there was any justice in the world!"

I like Kitty. I hope she doesn't die. She feels like a parody of a Victorian cockney character. It's beautiful.

There was an intensity of hatred in her white, set face and her blazing eyes such as woman seldom and man never can attain.

I guess women are just better at hating things?

Does it though? Idek, such a weird thing to divide by gender.

"He would speak of someone in his velvet way and then look at me with a steady eye and say: ‘He died within a month.’"

This guy really needs to stop telling people about the crimes he's committed. I get that you're an arrogant dickhead, but surely there must be some room for brains in your head beside all that hubris. Maybe think before you speak? And don't just think 'oh how awesome and evil I am tee hee hee'.

I'm sorry, I just get annoyed when I see bad guys making such obvious, preventable mistakes. At least be good at being evil, if you're going to do it. Do it properly.

"It's a book he has—a brown leather book with a lock, and his arms in gold on the outside. I think he was a bit drunk that night, or he would not have shown it to me.”

Oh for- Do you write it all down? Tell me you don't have a very secret evil diary of all your very secret evil deeds. Please... Please don't be that guy.

I get that this is realistic, because serial killers and horrible people do take trophies. But still...

Also, Adelbert is a name I've heard of before but never actually seen used.

“No good,” said Shinwell Johnson with the decided voice of the expert. “No fence wants stuff of that sort that you can neither melt nor sell.”

Shinwell Johnson here reminding us not only that he exists and that he is a criminal, but also possibly the most competent criminal in this story. Good for him.

“I am not out for money. Let me see this man in the mud, and I've got all I've worked for—in the mud with my foot on his cursed face. That's my price."

Vengeance!!!

Yes. I like Kitty a lot.

"If your head is inclined to swell, my dear Watson, take a course of Miss Violet de Merville."

S-tier line. This is just perfection. I love it.

"I pictured to her the awful position of the woman who only wakes to a man's character after she is his wife—a woman who has to submit to be caressed by bloody hands and lecherous lips. I spared her nothing—the shame, the fear, the agony, the hopelessness of it all."

Holmes going hard. I feel disgusted and I'm just getting the description of the description. This story has a lot of excellent turns of phrase in it. This section is particularly repellent.

"'...you needn't look at me like that, my fine lady, for you may be lower than I am before you are through with it.’"

Kitty is the best and I want her to be in every story from now on. You tell her. Go for the throat. I know it's not going to work, but yes!

"And it did. Their blow fell—or his blow rather, for never could I believe that the lady was privy to it."

So women are capable of more hatred than men, but they aren't capable of things like this. You have a very confused and tangled view of gender, Watson. Who hurt you?

But they eloped, didn't they? But then she'd definitely be privy to that.

"There, black upon yellow, was the terrible news-sheet: Murderous Attack Upon Sherlock Holmes"

Well, I suppose in a way that's better... because clearly he's not dead. And also that means that Holmes will have some sort of evidence against him.

Adelbert really needs to learn not to overplay his hand. If you're so sure that nothing can go wrong, just... wait it out. She'll marry you and everything will be fine. Patience.

[saints-who-never-existed]

Rereading The Terror

Chapter Thirty-Five: Irving

God love him, Irving is being such a brave little soldier and one so very excited to do some proper exploring on a hunting trip with Hodgson and co. 👀 "Except for the fact that John Irving was sick and half-starving and his gums were bleeding and he feared that two of his side teeth were loose and he was so tired that he was afraid he would collapse in his tracks at any moment, this was one of the happiest days of his life." Aw, diddums...!

There's mention of his travelling to KWI with Gore a year previously which seems like something of a plot-hole to me. I suspect Simmons is getting mixed up re: Irving's involvement with the second copy of the Victory Point note? Also, in the world of the story, surely if Irving had been there, he would've been the one reporting on Gore's death to the captains and not wee Charles Best? Bit weird all round...

Also, Simmons, where the fuck are you getting Bristol from? I demand to know! "John Irving - originally from Bristol and then the young master of London Town..."? "It reminded John Irving of...their Bristol home..."? Like, um, no...? Why this change? It irks me so!

Interestingly, we get confirmation in this chapter that Irving never clyped on Hickey and Manson "and never would." 👀 (Do you sense it yet? The impending doom?)

Another interesting thing that's touched on as he separates himself from the others to go exploring by himself for a bit is the need for solitude. We talk so much about the crushing isolation that permeates the whole story but on a practical day-to-day level, many of the men would very very rarely have found themselves completely alone with their own thoughts. Perhaps it's not talked about enough - the sheer mental weight of being surrounded by 120-odd other people all day every day for three goddamn years with no means of escape.

It's on this solo sojourn that Irving first spies the Netsilik and he's understandably overwhelmed: "Irving had to lower the telescope and then go to one knee on the cold gravel and lower his head for a moment. The horizon seemed to be spinning. The physical weakness he'd been holding back for weeks through sheer force of will welled up through him like concentric circles of nausea. "This changes everything, he thought." Again, I sayeth, aw, diddums! 👀

[rollercoasterwords]

Number 11 please and I dare u to make me CRY🌻

hellloooo returning an entire week later to finish up the remaining siken prompts <3

11. and no one can ever figure out what you want and you won't tell them.

canon-compliant first war era marylily angst :) u have been warned <3

"it's so beautiful, mary!" lily laughs, a shattering sound, a joy sharp-edged and bleeding. "isn't it so beautiful?"

"get in the car," mary says, for the millionth time, trying so very hard not to scream. lily laughs again, the kind of laughter that pushes an ache into mary's gums, makes her body feel like it's trying to grow a second set of teeth.

"no!" she skips away, giggling, "i'm walking! it's so beautiful tonight!"

it's freezing. december is a stone that mary keeps trying to roll up the mountain, and losing, and losing, and losing.

"please, lily," she begs, but that only makes the spark jump in lily's eyes, the flame kindle, the fire burn. her hair is the color of blood and she licks her lips and stands just out of arms-reach in the snow, waiting for mary to chase her.

mary always chases her.

"i'm going to call james," mary says, and lily's face falls, like mary has just ruined her most favorite game. she would never admit it if she were sober, but vodka's always had a way of kicking the honesty into her features. and it's not mary's fault that they keep doing this; not mary's fault that she keeps waking up, night after night, to floo calls or patronuses or whatever lily can send from whatever shithole she's crawled into, whatever bottle she's gone swimming in. not mary's fault that lily did the thing that was supposed to make her happy and it didn't make her happy and now they both have to live with it.

"you're no fun," lily pouts, but there's nothing childish about her voice. "you used to be fun."

fuck you, mary thinks, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

"just get in the fucking car."

"no."

"lily, please."

"i can't."

lily shakes her head, back and forth, back and forth, and then she's stumbling forward, grasping at mary's coat with fingers like chips of ice,

"i can't. james can't see me like this, mary. only--only you..."

she's clinging so tightly, pressing her face to the crook of mary's neck, breath whispering warm across skin.

"only you, mary, only you..."

mary swallows, and tries not to let go of the tears that will just freeze on her cheeks. lily kisses her neck, hands slipping into her coat, curling around her waist. you used to be fun hammers itself against mary's skull, and for just one second they're back at hogwarts--back in the dorms, behind those red curtains, safe in lily's bed, hands and skin and breath and so many whispered promises. forever and always and only you.

"only you, mary, please..."

the wedding ring on her finger snags in the threads of mary's jumper, and they're not at hogwarts--they're in london, in the snow, in december, with nothing but the idling car beside them. mary presses their foreheads together, just to get lily's lips away from her neck.

"get in the car," she begs, "please."

from this prompt list!

[le-souriant]

#MusicMonday Review - April 2024

#MusicMonday is the hashtag I've been using for quite a while to share music recommendations from up-and-coming artists. Always fresh, and always different, trying to look for trends before they become one. You can check March's review for more music.

What does getting lost in the desert, walking through the Campus, a story about nature, love, and just feeling good, have in common? All are the themes of this month's selection. Give it a listen, and dive in, with a word from the artists themselves. 🎧

TV Cult – Empty Quarter

Stranded in the empty quarter Run out of food and water Stranded out here alone But in a mirage I see home

We begin this month in Cologne, Germany for an 80s infused Post-Punk track about not being able to find something to hold on when you need it the most:

"Empty Quarter is about getting lost out in the desert. It's a bit about getting lost in terms of location but also in time.

It's kind of like getting lost from one's inner child (Stranded out by the park, Stranded out after dark). The childhood theme also comes from the title Empty Quarter which is a massive desert in middle east and not far from where I lived as a kid."

Sun God – Campus

walkin through the campus feeling dumb chewin on bubble gum listenin to songs about the dangers of love and no i've never felt it before no i've never felt it before

From Philadelphia, PA, an Indie Rock track perfect for the summer, whistling tunes while skipping stones down at the lake, with no worries at all:

"I think the song is a reflection on being young and wasting time. It’s kind of a sunny weather song, and it’s pretty simple so we wanted to add a bunch of different sounds (layers of warbly guitar, synth, toy keyboards, etc) to make it feel a bit nostalgic."

West Coast Caravan – Them Wicked Ways

Oh baby don't be harsh

From Antwerp, Belgium, let's listen to an Indie Rock song with a story to tell, up for the listener's interpretation:

"All the songs are quite autobiographical or inspired by something I saw someone experience that moved me.

Them Wicked Ways is actually based on a series of events that I and some friends experienced or are still experiencing in this 'wicked' world. We're trying to find a way to act good, which isn't always possible in everyone's eyes.

It was also the first song that wasn't structured like a 'little story'. Normally, the songs I write and we play have a beginning and an ending. Them Wicked Ways is the first one where I just wrote snippets of text that came to my mind and tried to glue them together so it would make sense to the listener, but open to his/her own interpretation."

Andy Smythe – Leaves to Burn

No gospel to learn No faith to confirm No need to discern The reason to yearn

Lovers we're torn By the rose and thorn Damnation to deeds That make these hearts bleed

Look to the river Is its soul with her It winds like a ghost Her spirit evoked

From London, England, a cool retro sounding Brit Pop about the dark depths of life, nature, and love. The tides of reason, distorted by the seasons:

"The track was inspired by my partner commenting that a neighbor who loves their gardening had 'no more leaves to burn'.

I then reimagined my childhood where I spent a lot of time working on farms and thinking back to some of the older men I worked with, who had spent their whole lives working the land. What would such a life be like, you are following a cycle of the seasons, planting in the spring and harvesting in the summer. What if they experienced loss in their lives, would the routine of laboring through the seasons compensate for it?

I'm also influenced a bit by writers such as Laurie Lee, Walt Whitman and Springsteen's writing style on Nebraska, I wanted to paint a panorama of love and loss, the earth and the sky, and reflect on how as modern people we view our connection with nature."

Sugar World – For a Moment

i heard your voice through the speakers tried to call couldn't reach ya i waited up in the bleachers feeling dumb over eager

later on i was tired took a walk through the fire caught a wave in the ocean

Our last stop is Los Angeles, CA for some sugar coated Indie Pop about feeling good for a moment, doing the most trivial things, with the ones you care about:

"It was a combination of being inspired to write a surf rock song, and the lyrics came to be about change, and how situations in life are fleeting.

It's not necessarily about a specific time or person in our own lives, but it was inspired by the feeling of growing up and realizing that things are always changing and will keep changing.

In some ways it's a song about loss, and was inspired subconsciously by loss that we experienced in our own lives."

Listen to them and much more on the complete Playlist:

[gschmd]

Conkers: The unlikely contact sport taking London by storm (link is NSFW)

On an uncharacteristically hot October afternoon, five hundred people are screaming. Dozens of knuckles are red raw and bleeding, clutching pints of pale ale. A red-headed woman flashes her breasts and a deeply grazed torso. Blood gushes from one man’s gums– his broken teeth scattered on the concrete floor. “What the fuck is going on?” question several passersby, clambering for a look out of the train station’s windows. This isn’t a brawl. It’s the Peckham Conker Championships, and it’s getting serious.

[ecemersons]

They Bleed Night

It was fifteen minutes to the end of the world, and April was smiling.

She wasn’t smiling because she was happy — she wasn’t – but because it seemed to her the right thing to do. In a quarter of an hour, a virus would be released into the air in London, Tokyo, St. Petersburg, Sydney, Cairo, and a dozen more cities all around the world. From where she stood, an apartment building in Manhattan, those around her would be witness to the first impacts of the disease before it wiped everything out. She supposed it was too much to call them lucky.

The disease didn’t have a name. Not yet. She knew how much the global media liked naming things and thought it might be a nice little treat for them. A sort of parting gift.

Idly, she wondered what they would settle on. It would start innocuous enough, she supposed. A new strain of influenza, maybe a murmur or two about a new variant of this or that. Then, when scientists started looking into it (too late by far at that point, she thought), it’d probably be called “mystery Illness” or “unknown disease”.

Then, maybe once people saw what it did, they would start calling it names after some of the symptoms.

Maybe they would see how it turns the blood to a black, tar-like substance.

“Black-Blood,” maybe.

Or they would notice how the limbs of the infected twitched and convulsed, while constricting the lungs, making the writhing rictus eerily silent as bones snapped and ligaments tore from the spasms.

“Spasms” could be a name. Short and to the point. Like smallpox, or Cher.

April climbed the stairs to her apartment building. Mrs. Havesh, the upstairs neighbor, was going down. The old woman commented on the thin sheen of sweat on April’s dark skin. Mrs. Havesh was concerned. Maybe April should lie down? Mrs. Havesh had just made soup, why not nip in for a bite? Where was little Jacob? It’d been an age since…

April’s smile tightened and drew outward, skin going taut around her gums and teeth. She didn’t know why.

Up, up, up, she went.

Mrs. Havesh let her go with something like a sigh.

It was ten minutes to the end of the world.

She reached the top of the stairs, the padlock with the broken tumblers falling away with a flat sound.

She had been up there just the night before with Jacob, looking over the city streets below. She explained, in a sad whisper, why they couldn’t see the stars.

Her son had hugged her then.

“But mama!” His eyes were big and imploring. “Look down there! We make our own stars!”

April nodded, smiling. She thought she should be crying.

He, at least, would be spared the sickness.

The wind buffeted her, grabbing at her hair and pushing her dress behind her. She smelled the stench of the city, of too many bodies living on top of each other. She felt the air, unseasonably warm. Of course it was.

She smiled at the wind, defiant.

It was five minutes to the end of the world.

Barefoot, she walked the very edge, the sun was just dipping below the horizon now and the man-made stars below began to twinkle. She wondered how long they would shine afterward, their amber glob piercing the sky and blotting out the great nothing beyond. All her life, she’d considered the pollution an afront – she still did – but now, knowing she was looking at the end, she couldn’t help but think how beautiful it was.

Temporary things always seemed beautiful in their fragility.

She did not regret what was about to happen, the sacrifice she was about to make. Not exactly.

She looked straight down, seeing the cement far below, and suddenly, she felt like she was looking into the sky. Orian’s Belt shone from a street two blocks down, and Betelgeuse played in the reflecting pools of a leaking hydrant.

Then, she was flying. Upward to that heretical sky, upward toward the face of the moon herself, her lunar expression twisted into a mask of horror as she screamed. April closed her eyes, and hoped she would find Jacob somewhere in the stormy void.

It was the end of the world, and a crowd was gathering slowly around the fallen form of a woman. No one spoke of her smile, broken and wet, or how utterly at peace she seemed to be. All eyes where on the halo slowly leaking around her head, seeping from her crushed skull and matting her hair. Black as oil, it glistened in the city lights like it contained galaxies.

[thejaymo]

CONKERS: THE UNLIKELY CONTACT SPORT TAKING LONDON BY STORM

“Kill him!” ricochets a bloodthirsty cry around the graffitied arches of London’s Peckham Rye station. On an uncharacteristically hot October afternoon, five hundred people are screaming. Dozens of knuckles are red raw and bleeding, clutching pints of pale ale. A red-headed woman flashes her breasts and a deeply grazed torso. Blood gushes from one man’s gums– his broken teeth scattered on the concrete floor. “What the fuck is going on?” question several passersby, clambering for a look out of the train station’s windows. This isn’t a brawl. It’s the Peckham Conker Championships, and it’s getting serious.

[forestraydentists]

Forest &amp; Ray Offers Private Wisdom Tooth Extraction in London

London, England -

Forest and Ray - Dentists, Orthodontists, Implant Surgeons, which is based in London, UK, is offering private wisdom tooth extraction for patients from London and surrounding areas. Wisdom teeth, which are also called third molars, are the last ones to develop and they typically appear when people are in their late teens or early twenties.

The issue with wisdom teeth is that there is usually insufficient room in the jaw for them to grow normally, which makes them incorrectly aligned. In some instances, the wisdom teeth will continue to be under the surface, growing at an angle towards the front of the mouth. This results in the wisdom tooth pushing against the second molar. At other times, the wisdom tooth only partially breaks through the gums, which makes it difficult to clean them. This can result into cavities in the wisdom teeth, which can quickly spread to the other molars. For those who experience these situations, it would be a good idea to schedule a dental appointment.

A spokesperson for Forest & Ray - Dentists, Orthodontists, Implant Surgeons says, “Private wisdom tooth extraction can be a surgical operation to remove one or more wisdom teeth — the four permanent adult teeth located in the upper and lower rear corners of your mouth. If a wisdom tooth lacks space to erupt (impacted wisdom tooth) and causes discomfort, infection, or other dental issues, it will likely need to be extracted. The extraction of wisdom teeth may be performed by a dentist or an oral surgeon.”

They want to point out that extraction of the wisdom tooth is only possible when it is not inflamed. If it is inflamed, the dentist will usually provide temporary pain relief and once the inflammation has subsided, they can proceed with the extraction. If the wisdom tooth is completely erupted, the extraction can be done by a general dentist. The extraction can be done fast under local anesthesia. However, if the wisdom tooth is growing irregularly, is angled toward or away from the neighbouring tooth, or is positioned horizontally, the extraction will have to be done by an oral surgeon. The surgeon will open the gum, extract the wisdom tooth, and then stitch the wound closed. This process is also painless and will also be usually done under local anesthetic.

The wisdom tooth extraction by an oral surgeon will usually require several steps. First, an incision is made in the gum to reveal the wisdom tooth and bone. Second, the dental surgeon will remove the bone that is obstructing access to the root of the wisdom tooth. Third, the wisdom tooth is partitioned into sections, which allows it to be easier to remove the tooth piece by piece. Fourth, the dental surgeon extracts the wisdom tooth. Fifth, the place where the tooth was extracted has to cleaned of any debris from the tooth or bone. Sixth, the dental surgeon will stitch the wound closed to ensure faster healing, but this may not always be required. The seventh and final step is to put some gauze over the extraction site to control bleeding and to assist in the creation of a blood clot.

Started in 2007, Forest & Ray is found in Central London and is strategically located because it is only a few minutes walk away from the British Museum. They provide conservative dentistry, orthodontic services, dental implants, and cosmetic dentistry. They are committed to delivering the best quality dental care at competitive rates. They are committed to developing a good personal relationship with their patients and promoting that type of relationship in an environment of care. Patients can rest assured that there are no hidden fees, and they carefully itemize the different options so that patients can make the correct decision as to the services they really want.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RapVNjAsqy4

Those who are interested in scheduling a consultation or would want to know more about wisdom tooth removal and other services available can visit the Forest and Ray website or contact them on the phone or through email.

Originally published here: https://www.pressadvantage.com/story/61279-forest-ray-offers-private-wisdom-tooth-extraction-in-london

[emergencydentistuk]

5 Dental Emergencies That Are Common

A cut on your finger may require an emergency room visit. But what happens when you chip your tooth? You will also visit the emergency room to get treated. However, recent studies have shown that most dental emergencies are redirected to a dentist.

While this seems to be the proper thing, a good understanding of the dental emergencies that require dentist care versus those that need attention in the emergency room is critical. To avoid confusion, we would show you the 5 frequent dental emergencies you need an emergency dentist for.

Toothaches: Pain in the tooth is indicative of several oral concerns. The cause of it should be diagnosed so that treatment can be given. Pulp infections commonly trigger toothache and a particle thing stuck between two teeth. If you suddenly develop pain in the tooth and it becomes severe, it's time you seek emergency dental care. As first aid, applying a cold compress can soothe the pain.

Chipped or cracked teeth: If you have an accident, use your teeth to open bottles or bite down on hard substances, it can cause cracks or chips in your teeth. Teeth grinding (bruxism) can increase the risk of cracked teeth. Even those who clench their teeth are not spared from this issue. If you have a tooth that is cracked or chipped, you qualify for emergency dental treatment. Where the tooth is fragmented, gather the pieces, rinse them, save them in a cup of water or milk and go with it to the dental practice.

Knocked out or loose teeth: If you happen to get your face impacted during sports or any other activity such that your tooth falls out, you must see a dentist immediately. Where the tooth loosens, you should try and retain the tooth in its socket so it doesn't fall out. You can do this by biting down gently to keep the tooth in position. For the knocked-out tooth, do well to find it. When it's found, rinse it while holding the tooth by the crown. You can preserve a knocked-out tooth by reinserting it into the socket and biting down, like in the case of a loose tooth. Alternatively, storing it in a cup of milk or water while seeking an emergency dentist near me will help.

Soft tissue injury: The tongue, gums, and inside of the cheeks and lips are the mouth's soft tissues. If you mistakenly bite your tongue or lips or your gum gets injured from a face accident, it is essential to visit your emergency dentist for assistance on what to do. There are cases of soft tissue injury that may require you to get into the dentist's office. Other cases may put you in an emergency room. Injuries to the soft tissue like tears, punctures, and lacerations need to be rinsed with warm water. After that, you can stop the bleeding by applying pressure.

There are times where soft issue injury is mild. This may not require an emergency room visit or dentist. Usually, they heal on their own. But where this is not the case, kindly call in to see a dental emergency care provider.

Loose or missing dental restorations: If you have temporary restorations for a dental issue, they are most likely to come loose or get missing than the permanent type of restoration. But most importantly, there is a need for emergency dental care for restorations, whether temporary or permanent. In the case of a permanent restoration, you will come with it to your dental appointment. Where it is a temporary restoration, you can hold it in with a denture adhesive, ChapStick or Vaseline before receiving emergency dental care London.

Sometimes, missing permanent restoration may be replaced with a new one. These devices may be expensive, which is why it is imperative you keep an eye on your orthodontics all the time. However, mistakes are prone to happen – restorations can go missing completely. When it does, quickly report to your emergency dentist so that your teeth straightening will not be delayed or prolonged.

In summary

Dental issues like toothaches, injury to soft tissues, chipped or cracked teeth, knocked-out teeth, and missing dental devices are categorized as dental emergencies. Anytime you or your family member experience any of these emergencies, ensure to get an appointment with an emergency dentist for treatment.

The fact that most dental emergencies taken to the emergency room are referred to an emergency dentist adds to the pain you will experience due to delay in treatment. So, it is better you just head over to an emergency dentist London and get treated on time. This will ease your discomfort as quickly as it starts. For more details, you should visit at Emergency Dentist London pro and get the proper treatment for your dental emergencies.

[directdentallondon]

Emergency Dentist Wisdom Teeth Removal: Can You Get Your Wisdom Teeth Extracted in Urgent Situations

When it comes to dental emergencies, time is of the essence. Swift action can make all the difference in alleviating pain, saving a tooth, or preventing further complications. In Wandsworth, emergency dentists are readily available to address your urgent dental needs. In this guide, we'll discuss how to recognise dental emergencies, find an emergency dentist in Wandsworth, and take steps to prevent future issues.

Recognising Dental Emergencies

Severe toothache: Intense, persistent pain in a tooth may indicate a severe problem requiring immediate attention.

Chipped or broken teeth: Accidents or injuries can cause teeth to break or chip, potentially exposing sensitive nerves.

Lost or knocked-out tooth: A knocked-out tooth requires urgent care to increase the chances of successful reimplantation.

Abscess or infection: Swelling, redness, and persistent pain may signal an infection or abscess that needs prompt treatment.

Uncontrolled bleeding: If bleeding after dental surgery or injury doesn't stop, seek emergency care.

How to Find an Emergency Dentist in Wandsworth

Search online using keywords like "Emergency Dentist Wandsworth" or "Dentists Wandsworth" to find local providers.

Ask for recommendations from friends, family, or colleagues who have had positive experiences with dental services in Wandsworth.

Consult your regular dentist for referrals to emergency dental clinics in the area.

Contact local dental clinics or hospitals for emergency care options.

What to Expect During Your Emergency Dental Appointment

Assessment and diagnosis: The dentist will evaluate your situation, discuss symptoms, and perform necessary tests or X-rays.

Immediate pain relief and treatment options: The dentist will provide pain relief and discuss appropriate treatment options for your specific issue.

Follow-up care and additional treatments if necessary: Depending on the severity of the problem, you may need follow-up appointments or additional treatments.

Tips for Preventing Dental Emergencies

Maintain good oral hygiene practices: Regular brushing, flossing, and using mouthwash help keep your teeth and gums healthy.

Schedule regular dental check-ups and cleanings: Routine dental visits help identify and address potential problems before they become emergencies.

Wear a mouthguard during sports or other high-impact activities: Mouthguards protect your teeth from injury during contact sports or other risky activities.

Avoid using teeth as tools or chewing on hard objects: Using teeth to open packages or chew on hard items can lead to chipping, breaking, or other damage.

In conclusion, addressing dental emergencies promptly is crucial to alleviating pain, saving teeth, and preventing further complications. It's essential to recognise the signs of a dental emergency and seek professional care as soon as possible. We encourage you to find a trusted emergency dentist in Wandsworth who can cater to your urgent dental needs, ensuring that you and your family receive the best possible care during such situations. By taking a proactive approach to dental health and emergency care, you can maintain a healthy smile for years to come.

Direct Dental | Wandsworth Dentist

Address: Garratt Lane, London SW18 4GR

Phone: 02080909022

Website: https://www.directdental.co.uk/wandsworth-dentist/

Directions

[carm2234]

What is Gum disease?

Gum disease, or periodontitis, is a very common condition that affects the structures that surround and support your teeth such as the gum and bone. Most adults in the UK have it to some extent, and it is in fact the sixth most prevalent disease worldwide.

Despite being so widespread, it can often go unnoticed for many years, and if left undiagnosed and untreated, it can go onto leading to tooth loss in a group of people.

Gum disease is caused by a build-up of bacteria on tooth surfaces, which accumulate over time to form a sticky substance known as plaque. As plaque accumulates on teeth, it may lead to your gums becoming swollen, red and inflamed and may start to bleed/become sore. This early stage of gum disease is known as gingivitis.

In some cases, if left untreated, this may progress to a more advanced form of gum disease, known as periodontitis, where the gums and bone surrounding the teeth are progressively destroyed, leading them to separate and lose their attachment to the teeth. Eventually this may lead to loosening and mobility of the teeth, causing them to fall out. If you are having this problem, you must immediately visit gum specialist london.

[chals778]

Emergency Dentist

Dental emergency? See an emergency dentist in Harrow. For new and existing patients in Sudbury, Wembley, Northolt, Rayners Lane, Ruislip, and London. Book a consultation now! What is a dental emergency? A dental emergency is common but can be frightening for yourself and your friends or family. At Neem Dental Clinic in Harrow, we offer emergency dental treatment for new and existing patients from Wembley, Northolt, Sudbury, Rayners Lane, Pinner, Ruislip and throughout London. We class a dental emergency as any pain or trauma to your mouth, teeth or gums or any bleeding from your mouth. Common dental emergencies include: A knocked-out or chipped tooth Persistent toothache An abscess or swelling Lost filling or crown If you are experiencing a dental emergency, please call us on 020 8423 2523 as soon as possible so that we can book you an appointment with the emergency dentist as soon as possible.

[feral-fae-writes]

As the World Caves In || Putting the Priest Inside the Jam Jar

A/N: This is my first, multi-chaptered piece. It will be a slow burn. The way I wrote it is fragmented because the reader is traumatised, lol. Y'all also probably have a lot (and I mean a lot) of questions, and there are probably a lot of plot holes, but things will unfold in time, I promise. Hopefully, this will be the start of a masterlist for this work, and a bunch of others. Each chapter will have a song associated with it (the title is a link) and, by the end of this, I should have a Sierra Six playlist! I hope y'all like this first chapter; I loved writing it. Please let me know what you think. 🥺 I am down bad in the rabbit hole for this gum-chewing Ken Doll.

Fandom: The Gray Man

Pairing: Courtland Gentry x Gender Neutral!Reader, Sierra Six x Gender Neutral!Reader

Wordcount: 4,498

Type: Multi-Chaptered

Chapter Summary: Our reader is saved by Sierra Six, who is determined to stay an enigma, no matter what. There are more questions than answers, but no one said catching bugs was going to be easy.

Chapter 1: Putting the Priest Inside the Jam Jar

You had no idea how long you'd been tied up -- just that it’d been enough time for you to begin to feel restless, confused, and severely dehydrated. A few days, at the very least. You’d been kidnapped from your apartment in London, just having gotten home. The last thing you remembered was taking off your shoes, in the dark, too exhausted and half-drunk to change into your pyjamas. But you never got the chance. The next thing you knew, you were bound and gagged in someone’s basement. You found out later, through muffled conversation, that you were ransom for your parents. Problem was, your parents didn’t give a shit about you.

In fact, they actively made your life a living hell.

Ricki, your best friend, had told you to be careful, because you’d just moved entire countries, but no one told her about being wary of people inside your apartment. You were going to die here, completely alone. And that was terrifying as shit.

The slam of a door made you jerk up in fear. You let out a few muffled, frustrated screams for help. You hoped whoever it was would and could help you. If it was your captor, or someone equally horrible, you wouldn’t be in a worse position than you were in now, as far as you figured. Yelling and grunting echoed from above, and you soon realised whoever it was, was fighting. Someone had found you. Holy shit, someone was going to save you. You felt tears run down her face, unbidden, and you couldn’t wipe them away. Fuck. A whimper slipped out, hit the wall of your gag, and you slumped back against the basement wall. You didn’t want anyoneto see you like this; you also had no choice.

A heavy thump, silence, then the sound of two quick gunshots: a double-tap, to make sure whoever it was stayed dead.

You threw yourself against the opposite wall, again and again. You needed to make enough noise to be heard, regardless of who it was up there, regardless of the absolute pain you felt doing it. You heard movement, from the stairs leading upwards across the room, and fell still, eyes warily on the locked door. A grunt, the padlock fell to the floor with a clang, and then the door opened. A stranger walked downstairs, dressed in black -- black boots, black pants, black tee… Black eye. You stared at him, eyes wide, tears streaming down your face, back against the wall. His brown hair stuck to his face, and his lip was split and bleeding. You made eye contact, and then he crouched down to your level, still holding your gaze. You couldn’t move, and you weren't sure if you wanted to.

“You okay?” He asked, voice soft. “All things considered.”

You nodded. It’s not like you could do much else.

“I’m going to untie you now.”

You nodded again. He set about untying you, making a conscious effort not to touch you or hurt you, from what you could tell. You sat there in thought, cold and tired, but warmed by his non-hostile presence. His eyes were kind, and somehow like a kicked puppy’s. He was also really, really damn attractive. Maybe it was delirium, or the black outfit, but either way, you couldn’t deny it. You imagined no one could; the man was objectively sexy. And he had just saved your life.

As he untied the ropes, his fingers brushed your skin, and you shivered. He immediately drew back, appraising with those kicked-puppy eyes, and then removed the duct-tape. You didn’t trust yourself to speak just yet, glancing back to your bindings, and he took the hint. He began to work on the ropes again, and you were free. He offered out a hand, kneeling. You took it, staring up at him. You were shell-shocked.

It was probably some sort of fucked up survivor’s syndrome, but you wanted to make him cum right then and there. Instead of getting down on her knees, you felt yourself begin to cry more, thin reactive tears escaping down your cheeks. You opened your mouth to speak, but could only manage a croak of a word as you got to your feet. You were going to faint. Your own voice sounded weird to your ears, after such a long time in silence, but it was surprisingly steady. All things considered.

“Thanks.”

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Your saviour was a hard man to read. You’re also pretty sure you don’t even know his name. Claire -- his niece, though you could tell they weren’t related -- called him Six. And he never corrected her, so you called him the same.

He had asked you if you had anywhere to go. You shook your head no, voice still hoarse from disuse. After saying that one word, you erupted into violent coughs. He held you steady as you shook like a leaf.

“What about your parents?” He had asked, once you were back upstairs, a glass of water in hand (pilfered from the cupboard) and a small dish of fruit that remained untouched (scrounged from the fridge, what little food that was there). A dead body laid not ten feet away from you, two gunshot wounds securely between its eyes.

Like shooting a zombie, you thought distantly. You couldn’t see Six’s gun on his person.

Your captor’s home was very nice, barring the blood on the rug, and the strong scent of smoking gunfire. You had no idea why you were taken for ransom, and, frankly, you didn’t care. The fact that your parents allowed you to stay in that basement for more than an hour told you everything you needed to know. As far as you were concerned, you were an orphan, alone in Italy. You shrugged your shoulders, to tell him that it didn’t matter. You were an adult, after all -- freshly 23 (no one likes you when you’re 23), and wanting to live your own life, separate from their money.

He leaned back in thought at your answer that was a non-answer, then leaned forward again, closer than you expected, looking you in the eyes. God, he wasa kicked puppy. You fought the desire to flinch -- for a moment, having a flashback to your captor, despite the fact that the man in front of you wasn’t threatening you in demeanour or tone -- as he let out a breath. When he spoke, his voice was ever-so-soft, as if he knew what you were feeling. Not a millisecond later, you realised that he did.

“I get it. You’re feeling betrayed. I don’t blame you. You need rest, and somewhere safe to stay.”

You couldn’t escape the corpse in the corner of your eyes. His gaze followed your own.

“I’ll clean up. Promise. I’m guessing you’re alone in Italy?”

Your focus snapped back to him and his inescapably puppy-like eyes. His eyes were a blue-grey, like a stormy sea. You nodded. He let out a sigh, breaking eye contact. Then, out of what seemed like nowhere (but you logically knew it came out of his pants pocket), appeared a silvery stick of gum, which he unwrapped. He paused, noticing your eyes, then offered out the stick, half in its packaging.

“Want one?” He asked.

You shook your head. He shrugged, just slightly, then popped it in his mouth, rising up from the table, as he crumpled up the used wrapper and slipped it into his pocket. “Suit yourself.”

You sat there, following him with bleary eyes as he cleaned his mess. The corpse disappeared, too, and it was as if nothing had ever happened at all. Later, you’d come to understand that for him, it was “just another Thursday,” as he and Claire liked to put it. And, gradually, you began to accept that, even not mind it, because it was the truth.

After he had finished his work, he took you to a hotel. It was clear he didn’t quite trust you yet, but it was also clear you didn’t have anywhere to go. Your parents would soon realise that you’d been saved and scorn you for getting kidnapped in the first place, or they’d think you died. Regardless, they’d freeze everything. You effectively had no apartment, no money, and no place to call home. They were very hands-off “parents” -- that was the whole reason you were in London. They hoped you’d eventually make your own life there, and then they’d cut you off. It made you wonder why they didn’t just put you up for adoption. In any case, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t go back to that apartment, but you would use whatever money you could. That is, you’d withdraw everything possible.

You came away with a few hundred and five thousand dollars off the card, and another two hundred thousand from the joint bank accounts, skimmed off the top. They wouldn’t miss either sum. You’d wanted to use some of it to return the favour to your knight in black armour. When you tried, however, he refused it for himself, but did take a small (to you) amount for Claire. And that was how you found out she existed, how you met her, and how you put a name to his face.

Now, a week later, you were curled up, hands around your knees on the bed, in the hotel room he had arranged with your money. They hadn’t been staying there until you came along with a handy alibi -- with you, they could pretend the three of you were a family: husband, wife, and daughter. It helped that you resembled Claire. It didn’t seem weird to Six, though he didn’t indulge in it at all (much to your disappointment): not in public, not behind closed doors. Six was in the shower, and Claire was asleep on the small couch across the room. She looked so peaceful, whereas your thoughts wouldn’t stop racing.

She woke up. Goddamnit, based on her reaction, she could tell you had been and were staring at her.

“What?” She asked bluntly, still half-asleep.

“Nothing,” you replied.

“Where’s Six?”

“In the shower.”

Both of you fell silent. Truth be told, you hadn’t spoken to Claire often yet. It had only been a week. Claire spoke up again.

“Six gave me vinyls. Was that you?”

So that was what he had spent his saviour-stipend on. But you didn’t mind. You wanted to get to know Claire better. And if that took Six spending money that you didn’t really need or exactly want, that was fine with you.

“Do you like them?” You asked.

Claire nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Thanks. Six told me how he found you. Were you really down there for an entire month?”

“I don’t know how long I was in that basement for.”

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I feel weird about-- sticking around with you two, when you clearly already have things figured out.” You replied. “I’m assuming you know about--”

“It’s-- it’s just another Thursday.” Claire cut you off, bristling in discomfort. She knew what Six did for a living -- what he had to do for a living. She remembered the note he wrote her, to play Silver Bird, and play it loud over the gunshots as he headed her way. How she had covered her ears and focused on the music. She didn’t like thinking about the events that led to that bittersweet, terrifying moment. Didn’t like thinking about her uncle Don, or the fact that he was dead.

“Right.” You replied, falling silent. The two of you had come to a mutual agreement.

“I’m glad-- that he saved you. And not just because of the vinyls.” Claire murmured after a moment, voice quiet. And with that, she, presumably, went back to sleep.

You heard the sound of the shower shutting off. A few minutes later, Six stepped out, hair wet, wearing black pants and a wrinkled white shirt. His attention was immediately on Claire. It was as if you didn’t exist. Watching him watch her warmed your heart. He was her protector, and yours, too, but it was obvious he’d do anything for her. All of his snark and dry demeanour melted away, all because of her... Part of you wished it would be because of you, too. Instead, you spoke up, this time to Six.

“She likes the vinyls.”

“She told me.” He replied. “Gave me a hug. Which I guess belongs to you.” He turned around to face you, eyes lighting up in a muted realisation. “I never thanked you for the room.” He said.

“I hardly think it’s worth thanking me for when you saved my life,” you quipped.

“That’s fair enough.”

Just before Six turned away, you caught the smallest of smiles on his face.

------------------------------------------------------

“Why Bubblicious Watermelon Wave?” You asked, amused, seeing the bulk package of gum hidden away in a new hotel’s room closet, this time in France. It peeked out behind shirts and pants, jackets, white tees, hung suits, and a red blazer paired with red pants. His side of the closet. You wondered what he would look like in a tux.

“There is no other kind.”

You rolled your eyes at Six’s quip, muffled behind chewing gum. He, for his part, sounded slightly as if you had ruffled his feathers. Apparently, the quip made him remember… something. You decided not to press. Your gaze drifted over to your side of the closet. It was sparse and minimalist in comparison: a few dresses, two sweaters, a pair of pants, a graphic tee to go with it, and pyjamas -- all brand-new, because, again, you couldn’t go back to London. All three of you had duffel bags; it came with the territory of having to keep moving. You didn’t mind. Not like you slept much. Or like Six slept much, for that matter -- too many painful thoughts and unanswered questions. You shut the closet door, but not before sneaking a few sticks of gum into your pocket for later. Not for yourself, no. For Six.

Okay, maybe one for yourself. One for yourself, the rest for him. You had read somewhere that gum stimulates the brain towards focus. No wonder Six is always chewing gum, you thought. You knew he was an intelligent man; he had to be, given what you knew about him already. You also knew he knew a lot more (and thought a lot more, and felt a lot more) than he let on. One of those things was that you were kept awake by paranoia and nightmares. Your leverage was that you knew he was kept awake by his own vigilance and desire to protect. It became a running joke between you two, keeping each other company through your mutual silence.

That night, the silence wasn’t broken. But you came to an understanding.

------------------------------------------------------

You sat out on the balcony, unable to sleep. Again. You knew it was dangerous, being out in the open, alone, but you didn’t care. You were wondering why Six and Claire kept you around -- you knew you were a liability, so there had to be a reason. You were wondering about Ricki, and how Six found you in the first place, though, in hindsight, finding you would be easy for someone like him. Finding anyone would be easy for someone like him. Finding someone like him, though? He was terrifyingly proficient at what he did, but had a moral compass; there was gentleness under his glib demeanour, you could feel it.

The gentle opening of the balcony door stirred you from your thoughts. You jumped out of your skin.

You heard Six chuckle in amusement: a ghost of a laugh, just like he was a ghost of man. He sat beside you, but kept his eyes on the night sky -- you took no offence, it was par for the course for you both -- and you did the same. It wasn’t awkward. Neither of you were much for words.

Because of that, it was doubly surprising when he reached over a hand, just to place it over your own. You froze, but he didn’t remove his, only gently intertwined your fingers together, as if to reassure you. And it worked. You gradually, steadily relaxed. These were the hands of a trained killer, but you relaxed.

There were so many things you wanted to say to him in that moment, but it didn’t feel right. You were sure he knew your thoughts, anyway. So, you merely held on, as if for dear life. You didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. When you stole a glance his way, he wasn’t looking at the sky; he was looking down at your hands, puppy eyes glistening.

------------------------------------------------------

It was inevitable: you had to go out for supplies. You didn’t mind it much, except for the fact that the three of you were constantly on the run. Six had explained the situation to you in bits and pieces over breakfast, and only what you absolutely needed to know. He and Claire were on the run from the CIA, after Lloyd Hansen took the fall for everything he and Claire had been through; he spared you the grisly details. His explanation made you feel even more like a liability, but he explained, through thin lips and a grim demeanour, that they’d be looking for a pair, not three people. You had asked him if you could contact Ricki, but he said it was too much of a risk. It pained you that you couldn’t let Ricki know you were alive, but it was best to let her think you were missing for now, Six said. He explained that if you called, even from a burner phone, they could track you through her and your parents, given she’d made her number known through your ‘Missing Person’ posters. Ricki had written a small description about how she’d dropped you home, and that you hadn’t responded to anything, which was unlike you. That was how he knew you were in trouble.

You realised that you were simply a detour: Six and Claire were just saving people while on the run across the world.

You’d like to say you didn’t care, but it did sting your ego a little bit that the reason he kept you with them was the fact that you were an asset. You were a person. Sure, you may have been a trust fund bitch, but you were a person. Six, thankfully, was polite enough to offer to contact Ricki on your behalf, on a secure line. But he wouldn’t let you speak to her yourself. Word of mouth travelled fast, after all. That much was clear by the bustling café you sat in, across from Claire. You understood, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

Claire was scanning the people in the café, a small toy-looking camera in her hands. It made you wary, because if Claire was watching others, it probably meant others were watching you. But Six seemed to take it in stride and as a given. As Claire began taking polaroid pictures of the people around you, laying the pictures on the café table, you felt yourself grow uneasy. Six casually began inspecting them, noticing your apprehension.

“We should go. Now.” He commanded, already getting to his feet, taking up the photos, and positioning himself in front of you and Claire, you noticed.

So your intuition was right. When he took you by the hand, you felt yourself begin to panic. You felt claustrophobic, and the world was caving in. You swallowed nothing, and tore your hand away, pushing yourself past Six and leaving him behind with Claire. You had to get away. You couldn’t be the reason either of them got hurt. His eyes went wide, and he yelled your name, but his voice fell into the rush and accented noise of the crowd around you as you ran. You knew he’d be running after you, Claire in tow, but you couldn’t turn around. You had to find somewhere you could calm down, which happened to be a concrete bench in a courtyard a few yards away. You held onto it, keeping your eyes on the ground, trying to come back to yourself, trying to focus on a distant sound of burbling water.

Of course, Six caught up to you. You saw Claire out of the corner of your eye, hovering close like a ghost, blatant worry in her eyes. A sudden, paralysing thought struck -- someone is going to steal her, too -- and Six took the opportunity to pull you in along with him, fingers gripped around your wrists as he guided you away from the bench. A panicking deer in headlights, you looked up to see where you were going, Claire in wait. But he stopped, halfway between bench and fountain, turning to face you. Following his lead, you stopped, too. His stormy blue-grey eyes were on yours, and he spoke softly -- a cool, calming tone that you’d never heard from him before. He was almost whispering.

“Hey, hey, hey, love. You’re safe, promise.”

“I-- I panicked, I’m sorry. I thought--” You stammered in reply, in shame, taking in a slow breath. “Too many people,” you lied, knowing whoever may have been following you would hear, knowing he would know the truth. On some level, you were aware you were still spiralling. But you felt calmer with Six there. He was a walking secret, and so, of course, it followed that he was intimately acquainted with everything true. He had to be; he had called you love.

“I know. Look at me,” he said. And you did. And you couldn’t look away. His fingers fell from your wrists, and then one hand appeared around your waist, holding you securely. The other cupped your jaw in his palm; his skin was calloused and scarred from old wounds. From fighting. You promised yourself at that moment that you’d never let him get hurt ever again, even though you knew you had no control over keeping it. He seemed to lean in then, tilting his head, perhaps seeing the thanks and promise in your eyes -- and he kissed you.

His breath was warm, and his lips were soft, and his beard tickled against your skin. It was a strange sensation, but you didn’t mind it. He tasted like watermelon. Like sugar. He tasted so sweet. Your widened eyes fluttered closed, and you melted, arms tangling themselves around his neck as you kissed him back, but whether it was for the alibi or because you wanted to, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that you were falling in love, and, now, your heart was buried with him.

------------------------------------------------------

You did get the supplies, in the end. Food, water, ammunition, snacks, more vinyls. But three months later, that kiss lived rent-free in your head. That, and Claire didn’t let either of you live it down. Six, however, acted like the kiss didn’t happen. To top it off, your card and bank accounts had since been frozen -- took them long enough. Lately, anything and everything was making you feel frustrated. Maybe it was being stuck in hotel rooms most of the time, despite Claire’s company, or the fact that you, essentially, no longer existed. No, it wasn’t either of those things.

It was the fact that there was something entirely wrong with what had happened, your panicking aside. Six hadn’t explained why he had rushed the three of you out of the café. He hadn’t told you that nothing was wrong, after all. He had said, “you’re safe.” Which meant, in fact, that you were not safe. It meant that whoever had been following you was a threat -- a threat that Six believed he could take care of.

You didn’t say anything when he came back that night bruised. He was bleeding, too. You saw a gash on his forehead, (one of many, hidden ones, you later found out) and you weren’t sure if he even knew it was there. If he did, it was clear he didn’t much mind it. You merely appraised it, and the dark blood trailing down his left temple. When he finally acknowledged your eye, you raised a brow in question. A ghost of an amused smile appeared on his face.

“Nah, I’m good. You’re not getting an answer.” He replied, letting out a pained sound as he knelt to remove his boots.

You got a very good look of his ass before he straightened back up, but that was information you’d address later. Six was hurt, and hurt like a bitch. Maybe now was time to ask other questions, if he wouldn’t answer unspoken ones.

“Who was it that was following us?” You asked.

“Someone who wanted to use you to get to me.” Six replied. “If they even confirmed your identity. Dead now.”

Your mind started racing, through explanations and reasoning and emotions all at once. Stopped.

“Wait, so, you kissed me--”

“So that if they did, they would focus on you, instead of Claire. If they didn’t, they’d just think you were my panicking partner.”

“I’m bait?!” In spite of yourself, your voice rose in pitch and volume. You hated falling into the trope of emotional bitch, even if it was justified. Claire was asleep.

“Claire has a heart condition.” Six replied, tone deadpan, if not for the slight, buried reproach.

“I know that, thanks,” you replied sarcastically, turning away. “I’ll let you lick your wounds alone, then.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Six chirped. “Glad to see you care.”

Unconsciously, you let out a small, catty growl. You saw a gentle upturn of the lips; he’d heard it. Hadn’t you been through enough, already having been a target for once?

Six strode (stumbled) past you, only to let himself literally fall onto the couch with a groan, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

“Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

You said nothing, just disappeared into the bathroom, mind’s eye already searching for the hydrogen peroxide. When you reappeared in front of him, hydrogen peroxide and cotton swabs in hand, he raised a thin, blood-caked brow. It didn’t escape your sight that he hadn’t followed your instructions and removed his shirt, and, to be fair, you could reason why.

“You sure you know how to use those?”

You stood your ground in silence; you didn’t trust yourself to speak. You just wanted him to know you cared. He must’ve seen something in your eyes, because he shifted slightly.

“Alright.” He let out a sigh, and then removed his shirt. As the black fabric peeled off, revealing tanned, honeyed skin, you bit your lip. He had abs. And scars. And tattoos. You took note of the Sisyphus one -- you knew he liked mythology; he and Claire had in-depth discussions about various myths every road trip you’d taken, which you listened to with muted, but vested interest. Again, you wondered why Six kept you around, as you knelt down to dab at his wounds.

“Because I, surprisingly, like your company.”

You’d said that out loud? Shit. He let out a hiss of pain, glancing down as you swiped at his wounds. “‘Lotta blood. Looks like more than it is, really.”

“Shut up and let me focus.”

“What happened to letting me lick my wounds on my own?”

“You’ve basically collapsed onto the couch, I can’t just…” You trailed off, gesturing at his present state to finish your sentence. Leave you here, like this.

Six rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can. All you have to do is give me some puppy mouthwash and a rag; I can take care of myself.”

You blinked at that. “Oddly specific.”

“Because it happened. Stabbed with a pair of surgical scissors. Good thing is, he missed the liver and the kidney.”

“Ah.” You didn’t know what else to say, so you just kept disinfecting his wounds. Eventually, his torso glistened with peroxide, shining with the wonders of modern medicine. The gashes had relatively stopped bleeding, and all that was left to be done was bandage him back to health, which you finished soon enough. As you got to your feet, looking over your handiwork, he opened one stormy, blue-grey eye.

“Mind getting me a blanket?”

“No,” you replied, turning away to find something he could cover up with, hopefully hiding the blush you felt creeping into your skin. “You’re going to sleep on the couch?”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Right…” You tossed the blanket his way, and he nimbly caught it with one hand. You noticed he winced, just slightly. “Sorry, I should’ve just given it to you.” Six didn’t respond, already adjusting the cover and his eyes closed again. You watched the rise and fall of his wounded torso, and let out a small sigh. You continued, feeling awkward. “Hey. I know I’ve been acting like a bitch, and I-- I’m sorry. I’m just… in over my head. Try to get some sleep.”

You let out an exhale, feeling a huge weight slide off your shoulders, turning to leave towards the bedroom. You weren’t sure he heard you. He probably did; he was a light sleeper, as far as you knew. You weren’t sure if you wanted an answer, but he spoke up -- voice gravelly, edging sleep and unconsciousness -- killing your indecision.

“I meant what I said: You’re safe. Promise.”