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[yessir-youngman]

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[demonslayedher]

Buri-senpai~ it’s me again! It seems like the Kamado family was respected in town. How do you think the townsfolk would’ve reacted once they realized that Tanjirou hadn’t been visiting with charcoal, only to check up on the family where they see the wreckage. Perhaps Tanjirou had left a rushed note, noting how his family was attacked, how only he and Nezuko were alive, and how they won’t be able to visit for a very long time. If that’s the case, I don’t think Tanjirou will explain the cause 1/3

2/3 of the attack, but there’s a chance that Saburo would’ve eventually realized that a demon had attacked them. Also, side notes: if Kaigaku was still a demon slayer during the events of the red light district, do you think he would've heard about Zenitsu's contributions to the defeat of upper 6? I had read your amazing Ukogi fic and enjoyed the characterization of Kaigaku's crow embellishing his achievements as a slayer. I also enjoyed Matsuemon's fondness of Nezuko and it seems like

3/3 he was ‘conspiring’ (for lack of a better word) with Oyakata-sama behind the scenes, with how the events at Asakusa with Tamayo played out. I'm sure Tamayo's existence was pardoned by the Oyakata-sama of Yoriichi's time. Also, sorry for the length! I enjoy your input on everything!

Going to reply to this in a couple parts, but allow me to first borrow one of my LINE stickers to express:

I'll reply to the fic stuff under the cut, but I'm really honored by your close reading and consideration of one of my favorite fics, "The Legend of Ukogi." But first for your question about Tanjiro!

Honestly, I was surprised by the village's upkeep of their home, including nice new tatami and shelves which Nezuko noticed in the extended epilogue included the Volume 23 version of Chapter 204. I would had assumed they'd have a mess of a home to come back to (and wrote my canon diverent/continuation fic that way, for the first draft was written after Chapter 204's magazine publication but before Volume 23's publication). At least nowadays in Japan, uninhabited homes are often left as-is and fall to shambles, even in cities, causing problems for the neighbors as they become home to pests. Upkeep is an issue, and it seems unlikely the townspeople would had gone out of their way to keep the site of a tragedy so nice.

However, Gotouge seems to stress that the Kamado family, simply for being good people, were often humbled by being on the receiving end of such kindnesses. Even Sumiyoshi and Suyako were on the receiving end of this, as mentioned in a Taisho Secret in Volume 22, for having helped a local lord's wife and son while they were in peril without knowing who they were. Even though they tried to refuse reward, they made sure they had a nicely fixed up house anyway (side note, they moved in to Yoriichi's and Uta's abandoned house).

A sturdy house as returns for their kindness seems to be as much of a running theme in Kamado history as is Hinokami Kagura and making charcoal. We do see that Tanjiro is pretty popular among the townspeople and everyone knows they can rely on him, and if Tanjiro's highly biased word is to be trusted, Nezuko had a reputation as a local beauty. In good whether the little kids must had gone into town a bunch, and Tanjiro (and Inosuke's) continued charcoal business (despite the increasing reliance on electricity) in the Fanbook #2 extended epilogue shows that the Kamado family has always had a reputation for high quality charcoal. Certainly, they've been well-loved long enough that their tragedy would not go unnoticed.

As further evidence of this, in the Giyuu Gaiden, a hunter even notices that on a different mountain nearby there was a family of charcoal farmers slaughtered and a suspicious person in a half-and-half haori was seen around there. Clearly, the villagers were quick to notice the incident and start looking around for the man who might had done it!

But we're still left with the question of how quickly they'd have noticed the absence, how word got around, and just how much they knew. My initial thought in response to your Ask was "there's no way Tanjiro had time for that, he had bury his family and get Nezuko dressed and hurry and go!" but then again, this is Tanjiro we're talking about. Tanjiro who faithfully keeps a diary for Nezuko no matter how tired he is, and who faithfully keeps in touch with all his penpals even with all his demon slaying work to keep him busy. If anyone would had written a letter, it would had been him.

It's possible that his reasoning would had been for Nezuko's sake. Should word get around about the incident, and about Nezuko being a demon, people might suspect she was the one who did it. Even Tanjiro had to consider that possibility when he was first shocked by her transformation, though he had the evidence to clearly determine that she was innocent. So maybe if he did leave something, it might simply had been to inform people that Nezuko still needs help, and he's left to take care of her.

To the townspeople, Tanjiro's word is trustworthy. As soon as someone discovered the incident (and perhaps a letter), word would probably get around pretty fast, and if Tanjiro had circumstances that forced him to leave for Nezuko's sake, that implies that they might make a return once she was alright. That might be what inspired the townspeople, who cared for generations about their local charcoal farmers, to have their hearts wrenched with sympathy for the tragedy these two surviving children have been through, and to try to do what they can by taking care of the house while they're gone.

As for knowing if it was demons or not, it's possible only Saburo knew that. There's so much we don't know about Saburo, but my personal headcanon is that he lost his family to demons and was rescued by the Demon Slayers. While others might have been quick to blame the suspicious man in the half-and-half haori, anything said by Saburo, a man perhaps known for keeping to himself with a sullen personality, was dismissed or taken for mere superstition. Saburo, having told Tanjiro to stay with him that night, might had already felt something was off, and when the feeling kept bothering him, he might had gone to check on the Kamado family and been the first one to discover the massacre. Letter or not, he'd have known Tanjiro survived, and might had gotten there soon enough to trace the footprints to deduce to that one of the other older children must had survived too.

Now because of fic spoilers, Bird Fic commentary below!

As I was doing my best to make that fic fit alongside canon, I tried to consider where the birds might and might not been able to influence the events of canon, and that made Denroku (Kaigaku's crow) one of my favorite small bits to work with. Even though he never makes an appearance in the story (only mentioned as a slightly antagonistic bird), he struck me as having the most potential for influencing events.

Since we see a general pattern of the birds being very invested in the Slayer they work with, I imagined that Denroku would pick up on Kaigaku's ambitions. When he got in trouble for embellishing Kaigaku's achievements, that's when he tries the reverse, taking assignments into his own talons and leading to Kaigaku fighting an enemy out of his league. While most of the Kasugai-garasu would had immediately reported Upper Moon 1 so that a Pillar could be summoned, Denroku's underhanded drive to see Kaigaku promoted is what leads to a situation the Corp would had preferred to avoid.

And that brings us back to Matsuemon, who does his best to promote his underlings' achievements to get Tanjiro recognized as a Pillar. He is protective of Nezuko, having picked up on that from Tanjiro, but honestly, I had not considered Matsuemon leading to Tanjiro's encounter with Tamayo. Letting Oyakata-sama know about it, though, that does seem in character for Matsuemon, which we'll get to!

As for why Tanjiro encountered Tamayo so early on, I posited in this Ask that Oyakata-sama probably was hoping Tanjiro would make a connection with her. Gotouge has stated that the demon Tanjiro was sent to investigate in Asakusa was Tamayo. Like you, I assume that Kagaya's forefathers must had chosen to pardon her existence out of Yoriichi's good word for her, and we know from his later mention of her to Tanjiro and efforts to reach out to her later that he's probably always been curious about a way to gain her trust.

What probably gave him the idea to use Tanjiro, a kid with a demon sister, was Urokodaki's letter. We didn't hear the full letter read allowed at the Pillar meeting, but my thought is that Urokodaki wrote highly enough of Tanjiro that Kagaya was like, "aha! This is it! This might be the person who helps me gain Tamayo's trust!" and that was why he sent Tanjiro to Asakusa on his second mission. As for whether Matsuemon knew that or not, I suspect not initially, but he might had gotten aware of it overtime and been in on the loop of birds who know this but help keep it on the downlow, as per Oyakata-sama's request. Matsuemon might had also been given special instructions to report details to the Kasugai-garasu who initiated the personal correspondence between Oyakata-sama and Tamayo. Knowing this egotistical bird he probably would had loved to brag about it, but he's smart enough and respects the Corp mission enough to know when to keep silent about his achievements.

EDIT: Ack! I forgot to respibd to your Kaigaku question. I do assume Kaigaku was still a Corp member at that time and he probably heard and that it ticked him the hell off. Even if he didn't know the details, the fact that Zenitsu would had been credited with fighting an Upper Moon would tick him off with jealousy. Not to worry, Kaigaku, Upper Moon 6 is only the bottom rung of the Upper Moons. ; P

[penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories]

No Matter How Many Skies Have Fallen

A/N: I really have nothing to say for myself at this point. 

Sequel chapter to this fic here, if you’d like to catch up. 

Thank you to @caffeine-in-an-iv​ for being my incredible beta and to @maybege​ for letting me rant to you and giving me so many wonderful ideas when I hit my walls. Also to the Obi-Wan fandom in general: Y’all are some of the kindest, most supportive people I’ve ever encountered on this hell site. Thank you for your support and your content! 

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Force Sensitive! Fem! Reader (no Y/N)

Word Count: 11.9K (I lost all control) 

Warnings: SMUT!!! Soft Dom! Obi rights, Also, Sub! Obi vibes, Foodplay (but not how you’d think), Inappropriate use of the Force, Voice Kink, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Hands Appreciation Society, As Usual: Too Many Feelings For Porn, Emotional Competence Kink, Trust Kink, TW: Pregnancy, TW: A character draws blood on themself unknowingly

Title from one of my favorite quotes:

“Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”

-D.H. Lawrence

What infinite irreverence the galaxy has for Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

As if his master and only semblance of a parent wasn’t taken from him when he needed him most.

As if a boy who needed a father wasn’t entrusted to Obi-Wan quickly following, far too young and full of his own loss. 

As if he wasn’t thrust onto the pedestal of parenthood when he really only wanted to be a brother. 

As if that isn’t what they became anyway, and as if that wasn’t the exact cloud that hung over the atmosphere of your lives ever since you’d arrived on Tatooine. 

As if the being whose life signature resided in your abdomen didn’t throw a punch into each of those blooming bruises by its very existence.

Which is why, you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you couldn’t tell him yet. 

Normally, it’d be no small feat to keep something of this scale from him. But these days, he’s so focused on having his shields up around you, keeping you from both being hurt by or helping with his torments. 

You have to take great care to control your body language, because even when he’s shut off from you in the Force, his keen perceptiveness will pick up on something being off anyway.

The art of a convincing lie is having layers. If he senses your feelings and decides to dig, then only give up one layer, and he’ll stop looking.

 In this case, it’s your worry over him. It is true you’re trying to shield him from feeling that, not wanting him to carry the burden of it on top of having to work through his own pain.

  But it’s not everything you’re trying to hide from him. So you let a small projection of your fear over his well-being escape, like you’re losing control of your feelings. It’s enough to convince him, and something critical inside you dies at the victory every time.

 He deserves your honesty, and you’ve never given him anything less until now.

 You hate how well your strategic deceit takes root. Because only part is due to your talent as a liar. The rest comes from how much he trusts you.

  You’re not stupid, though. You know it’s only a matter of time before the biological changes in your body betray you. 

Obi-Wan said he needed time, and you’re going to give him as long as you possibly can before dropping this anvil on him, hoping the further he gets from it all, the better off he’ll be. 

You could kick yourself for not being more careful. You hadn’t missed any dose of your herbal Ho’Din contraceptive. It was one of the few things you shoved in your bag with the mere minutes you had to leave Coruscant for good. It was from a reliable medicinal shop, and there’s no good reason it should have failed in any way.

But here you were anyway. 

Of course, there are options that free you from the obligation of carrying the child to term. All are expensive, and Tatooine is sorely lacking in any trustworthy medical facilities. The alternative methods could put your own life in danger as well. 

Even if it wasn’t, you’d feel so strange making that kind of decision without Obi-Wan. Not that he wouldn’t support whatever decision you needed to make for yourself if you did, but going behind his back is something you’re not sure his trust could recover from. 

And really, far too much has been decided for him in his life. 

The worst reason why you can’t bring yourself to move towards any solution that ends the pregnancy now, the reason you abhor, is because somewhere within you, despite the awfulness of the time and place, you want this baby. 

You couldn’t give a definitive explanation for yourself, but you did. Undoubtedly

Obi-Wan doesn’t press when you ask to cease your combat training for a time, asking to start learning the new offerings of the Jedi texts instead. 

He’s concerned when you tell him, but if he’s suspicious as for your reasoning, he doesn’t show it outwardly, at least. 

The way he doesn’t even ask about why, though: It makes you wonder if he had a reason all of his own why he’d rather not fight, even in imitation.

The Jedi writings given to Obi-Wan by Master Yoda are often more cryptic and mystifying than logically applicable without deciphering, which you are at first annoyed by, but then strangely thankful for, as Obi-Wan verbally processes his understandings of it, knowing what he does of the Jedi way, and you adding your thoughts from the stance of fresh eyes. 

The conversations distract wonderfully, and you savor any way you still get to connect with him.

You don’t push for the ways he doesn’t allow you to connect with him anymore. The way he won’t let you in his mind. Because now, you too have a reason to not let him in yours. 

*******

When it’s time to go into town for supplies again, you make up some feeble excuse which you know Obi-Wan sees through as a lie, and this time, he does pry, eyes soft and concerned. He knows you love going to the markets. You simply explain that you’re tired, which is true enough to satisfy him, leaving you behind with a kiss on your forehead before you watch him saddle up your eopie and ride off.

You sigh, sagging against the closed door once he’s disappeared into the horizon. You do love the markets. They’re the most colorful thing the planet has to offer, textiles and rugs and shiny, hanging things. 

But the spices. Fragrant and potent, usually so appetizing and intoxicating, you know would turn your stomach alone. And that doesn’t even account for the strange meats being cooked at different vendors, and Maker help you if anyone was selling raw meat of any sort today. You’ve done your best to keep your nausea at bay, at times even tapping into the Force for centering when the world felt like it was rocking. But you know the market would be too much, too many variables.

It’s not a fast journey, even on the eopie, and you don’t expect Obi-Wan to be back for hours. Which is why when you hear a knock on your door, the tool in your hand clatters to the floor, as does the remnants of your project. 

You quickly grab one of the long staffs you and Obi-Wan had only begun to use in your defense training, trying to recall the lessons as adrenaline begins to rush through your veins. Tatooine isn’t known for its pleasant company, and if anyone was going to try to rob your home, now would be as good a time as any. 

The knock sounds again, and you shout from the inside, “What do you want?!” 

“A peace treaty in the form of baked goods,” comes the feminine voice, one you recognize. 

Opening the door, you lower the weapon in your hand as Beru Lars blinks at you.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were…” You step aside, gesturing for her to come in.

She waves a hand, dismissive. “I understand.”

You lead her over to the small living area as you fix two glasses of water from the kitchen. 

When you set them down on the table, Beru speaks. “I apologize for the intrusion, if there was another way of contacting you before coming here…”

“It’s absolutely fine, I’m glad to have you.” You smile in what you hope is an assuring way.  “Although, I’m surprised at it just being you. Where’s Owen?”

Her eyes flick to the stone floor. “He um… doesn’t exactly know I’m here. He’s out on a business deal today.” 

You feel your eyebrows go up at that, waiting for her to continue. But instead, she changes the subject. “Where’s Ben?” 

“In town. We needed some things from the market.”

Awkwardness settles in as a conversation topic evades you. 

She breaks the beat of quiet. “Here, I brought these for you.”

You take the basket in her hands from her, peeling back the thick woven cloth to reveal a simple form of bread. It looks so appetizing your stomach clenches, and you instantly realize you haven’t had anything since breakfast. 

But then the smell hits you, hard and powerful, and stars, it’s just bread, there’s nothing that should do that about bread, but you’re on your feet in a minute, forsaking the basket on the ground as you bolt to the fresher, barely making it in time to the sonic sink before you start heaving. 

In a moment, you feel soft hands at the nape of your neck, gently holding back the fabric of your shirt and blowing cool air as you continue to wretch. 

By the time everything has settled again, you’ve dealt with the aftertaste in your mouth, and splashed on your face with a precious cup of cool water, hot shame rises in your cheeks at how this must seem to Beru. 

You wipe at your face with a rag, half muffling your words when you address her. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure they’re absolutely delicious, It really has nothing to do…” 

“How far along are you?”

Your spine straightens instantly, and you let the cloth drop to the floor.

“I… what?”

Now she’s the one to flush. “My apologies, it’s just that it’s known for being a very gentle bread, it’s one my mother used to feed me when my stomach ached. If that smell turned you... I just assumed, and I shouldn’t have.” 

Your lips purse as you consider your options. It’d be easy to say nothing, or just to nod. 

“Two months,” you hear your own voice answer despite yourself. You’ve never been one for easy anyway.

A surge of emotion wells up in you at even being able to speak it aloud, aloud to another human, and next thing you know, to your absolute horror, you’re crying into your hands as your shoulders crumple in on themselves. 

Why now, of all times? In front of Beru Lars? Whom you know accepted Luke with her husband without question because they couldn’t biologically have any children of their own? 

“I’m… so… sorry,” You manage to choke out through the sobs, disgusted at your own lack of control.

At some point Beru must join you on the floor, patting her hand soothingly on your back. “Shhh, it’ll be alright. You’ll see. It’s not so bad having a young one around, you and Ben have so much to look forw…”

“He doesn’t know.” 

Her hand pausing briefly on your back is the only indication she gives of shock.

“Would he not be happy?”

You take a steadying breath in, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t know,” you whisper, small and almost frightened to let the room hear you say it.

It falls silent again, but it echoes around in your brain, bouncing against your thoughts until you feel the onset of a headache.

After you’re to a numb enough state to enjoy yourself, you and Beru make tea and bring it back to the living area. 

She lifts her glass to yours, clinking them. “To secrets kept from men and the mischievous company they bring.”

Your head now throbs with pain, but you smile anyway. “Thank you,” you say to her, and you mean it so very much.

********

The next time Obi-Wan goes into town, you’re feeling well enough to go with him. 

You’re not visiting the food portion of the market, after all, so you’re not as much of a risk to set your stomach off. He’s taken to fixing small machinery for trading with the Jawas recently, the extra income helping with the projects around the house. 

There’s a trap door that you found within the first day of being there. The staircase carved out of the bedrock beneath the hut leads to a small room that has now served as additional storage and a place for Obi-Wan to work. It’s also quite cool during the day, so if you can stand the smell of the various meats hung to dry, you’ll sit down there with some sort of project, or even reading material if you come upon it.

So today, he’s looking for a few specific tools that will streamline his working. 

It doesn’t take long to find a promising stall among the maze of shopkeepers, selling everything from trinkets to weaponry of questionable legality. Obi-Wan finds what he needs easily enough, and it looks like the trip is going to be as efficient as it is successful as you walk through alleyways with him. 

At some point, he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, projecting an assuring strand of affection toward you. It’s such a small gesture, but you’ll never tire of the feeling of his hand clasped in yours. 

You’re almost back to where the eopie, Rooh, as he named her, is stabled when Obi-Wan abruptly slows his pace, dropping into a stall. An alarm goes off in your head when you watch him pick up a frivolous trinket on a table that you know he has no interest in. 

You open your mouth to inquire at his actions, but it answers itself once you see him glance out of his peripheral vision to where the holonews plays in the stall adjacent. 

Battle footage on what you recognized to be Kashyyk at the presence of the many Wookies plays with the Emperor addressing the viewers in a very two-dimensional, sugar-coated, thinly-concealed threat to any other world that would try to resist occupation.

There’s wreckage and uncensored violence, and you turn your head away. 

“May it be known that Lord Vader is quite capable and willing to help those into compliance that require assistance... “

The item in his hands crushes, ceramic tile cracking into his hands, breaking the skin and drawing out drips of red.

But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even seem to register the glass he’s pushing into his own hand. His eyes are wide and he makes a wounded noise from the back of his throat, eyes peeled to the holonews now, not even trying to feign disinterest.

His signature sparks, giving a flash and then a severe cry of anguish, and it hits you then. Pieces of information coming together as you feel Obi-Wan tear apart at seams. 

Anakin Skywalker turned to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan thought him dead. There’s a new Sith Lord now; the correlation and timing can’t be coincidence. 

The Toydarian male behind the stall shouts something about paying for it in full, and you quickly hand over the credits with a glare.

You start to pull Obi-Wan’s other hand off the table, but you quickly realize your mistake in that.

The moment it isn’t holding his weight anymore, his knees start to give, and you’ve only a second to react, jamming your body under his arm to keep him upright. His momentum nearly pulls you forward, but you plant your feet and remember at the last second to call on the Force to assist you.

He seems to come to himself enough to walk somewhat as you steer him to the nearest alley away from the vendors.

He braces a hand on the stone wall, but even it isn’t enough as he drops to his knees. He doesn’t even seem to have the will to stand.

Crouching beside him, you place one of your hands on his chest. 

“I…. I…” The tremor in his usually so crisp wording and steady voice crushes your chest, making it hard to breathe. “I failed him. I failed him.” 

“Obi-Wan,” you start, trying to grasp at anything, everything to comfort him, not even thinking of how you can’t call him that here, even if there’s no one in sight.

If he registers your call, he doesn’t let on, continuing in his whispers to the wall.  “He was burning. Burning, but I couldn’t do it. It would have been mercy to kill him, it was my mandate to do it, but I could not...” his voice gives out on the last word, and his shoulders fall forward in a shuddering inhale that transforms into a cut-short sob on its exhale.

“And now…” as the words pour from him, his shields fall, and so do the floodgates on his emotions, and it takes all the training you know to not be washed away in the torrential current of his grief. Does he even know he’s doing it, or has the insurmountable weight of his burden finally overridden his innate control over them?

“I’ve sentenced him to a fate worse than death.” He’s only barely choked out the end of his thought before his shoulders start to shake in earnest and he crumples in on himself as he begins to weep for his brother.

Giving no heed to the odd angle, you throw your arms around him. Trying to get your arms around his body is exactly the embodiment of the feeling of the moment, this anguish you don’t even begin to be enough to cover. 

What could you say? What could you do? What would even begin to… 

When you press your fingers to his temple, it’s light, a show of how unforced this is, how much he can say no if he needs.  Because this isn’t for you. No, it’d be so much easier to not know the exact depth of his pain and rip your chest open with that knowledge. But you’re offering it,  meaning it absolutely, desperate for him to take the hand offered to him. “Please let me in. Don’t do this alone. Let me…”

Then he’s pulling you in, not just letting you come in yourself, clinging to you like a person drowning. You remember to steady, to try to keep your own head above the water as wave after surging, overpowering wave of soul-crippling agony like you’ve never felt it engulf you in their surge.

You can’t hold out against it no matter how hard you try, so you refocus from centering yourself to pulling his signature into yours as you wrap your arms tighter around his torso. 

 And you begin to weep with him.

 *********

 The suns are drifting low by the time both of you have any intelligible thought, far too late to start the journey back to the hut. 

At the inn, as Obi-Wan falls into the beginnings of a restless sleep, a thought emerges, clear and crisp in its awful truth. 

 You cannot tell him for a long while still. 

 *******

 It’s different now. Because when he wakes in the night, he doesn’t give you falsehoods you see right through. He lets you into the terror and distortional dreams that all reside over one theme.  

There’s silence in the first days after. Just silent tears and still embraces and the way time seems to freeze when grief is at its worst.

But then he starts talking. It comes in little pieces, then in larger ones.  

The loudest thing his signature screams is guilt.

You tell him how it isn’t his fault, how Anakin is responsible for his own choices, but he just gives you a new reason every time as to why it is his fault, how he could have stopped it. 

Because even in what he considers his worst failure, his verbiage is indicative of how it’s not his own image and pride hurting that he’s even considered. All of his thoughts, all of them, are on what Anakin needed that he didn’t give.

 At first, it’s just impressions from his mind, unsorted, blurry thoughts and feelings, but it eventually begins to become words. 

“After his mother died… I know that he blamed me. How couldn’t he? He told me of his dreams, dreams he knew were foresights, but I dismissed them, multiple times, at that. And the council… advised me against comforting him, but he… I… I did anyway.” His shoulders are forward, body sagging with unsureness that doesn’t fit him right in the slightest. “But it was far too late. I know there was something pivotal about the death of his mother, and I am...” he hesitates, seemingly not because he doesn’t know what to speak, but because he does. “Terrified. Terrified it’s all because I didn’t validate him sooner. If I had not...” His voice breaks off, as he shuts his eyes.

Fear is not something admired by the Jedi, you know. When he speaks of his own emotions, he speaks them like he’s confessing them.

 And as he confesses and confesses, you comfort where you can, cry with him when you cannot.

 *****

 The swells of sorrow ebb and flow in their intense bursts and receding stillness, and despite the moments of not being able to breathe under the weight of it, there are miniscule, almost violating, hysterical intervals where smiles and life spring to the surface, gasping for air. 

Or in this case, the inexplicable desire to dance. 

You don’t even really know when you start, simply going about cleaning clothing in the sonic washer, and the next, some ridiculous, repetitive tune sweeps you to move your hips and feet, uncoordinated and graceless. The tune itself played from a datachip, scrapped with some pieces Obi-Wan was repurposing to make repairs. You’re not even familiar with the type of music, and it’s hardly the type of music you’d normally choose, but you find that today, it’s an improvement on the quiet that falls upon the house as Obi-Wan works outdoors. 

The song swings into a bridge, and you slide across the stone floor, imitating something you saw in a music holo years ago, as you do, your foot catches on the rug you recently added, sending you fumbling for your footing. You eventually catch it before you fall, but as you look up, you decide to lower yourself to the ground anyway at the sight of Obi-Wan, leaning up against the door frame, watching you with an amused expression, the fingers of one hand tracing between his lips and chin.  

You sit splayed as tactless and gangly as you danced and let out a short, startled laugh. 

“Please, don’t stop on my account. I was quite enjoying myself.”  

Maker, could you just hide under the rug you tripped over? “Please tell me you haven’t been standing there long.”

He pushes off his lean on the wall, crossing the room to you. “I won’t tell you lies, my love.” 

Shame twists in your gut at his words, chasing the laughter in your throat away. But Obi-Wan extends a hand down, and you take it, letting him draw you to your feet. 

He kisses the back of your hand before taking it in his, extending the clasp out to the side of your bodies as his other hand rests hot on the small of your waist. 

“But I will join you, if you don’t mind a style change.” 

“I don’t know how to dance like this,” you say, factually.  

“Then allow me to teach you.” When you look in his eyes, they’re lined with the etches of heartache still, but there’s something else too, brimming to the surface. 

“What, to this music?” You give your last, unconvincing protest.  

He simply drops his forehead to yours, and the small sounds of the room fade to white as a sweet, moving melody replaces it. It’s not perfectly clear, and it takes a moment to realize that it’s because it’s coming from Obi-Wan’s memory.  

The music has a distant, foggy quality, and it has potential to be eerie, but instead, it just lifts you into an ethereal feeling.

He steps, and your feet follow, not as graceful, but he makes it easy for you, the steps hinted out in his thoughts before taking them in actuality. 

When you start to feel confident enough in the movements, you look up at him. “Does this mean I can teach you my dances next?”

He laughs, laughs, unabashed and with no emotion harbored under it, and some torn piece of your heart mends at the sound.

“Certainly not.” 

You laugh too, even at the thought of him trying. The laugher rolls into a smooth quiet, and you let yourself bask in the feel of his body against yours, the press of his hand on your back as you rest your cheek against him. 

Obi-Wan cradles you to him, forsaking the pattern of the dance as he encompasses you in his arms, lowering his lips to your cheek, then your mouth in a blazing kiss. 

He takes your hand in his, lifting it above your head. Then you’re guided into a spin, and the room spins double with it as you abandon all endeavors of trying to get the dance correct. Your hand drops protectively to your belly before you can even think better of it, and by the time you know you’re not going to throw up, it’s too late. You already feel Obi-Wan’s unmistakable concern right before he asks, “What’s wrong?” extending an arm out toward you. 

His complexion is ashen with worry, and when you don’t respond, you feel him start to reach out to your mind; a spike of panic zaps down your spine, and you’re suddenly not sure you’re not going to throw up after all. 

Your shields crash down, not enough time for subtlety, and he retracts both his hand and inquiring tendril of energy as hurt and confusion shape his features. 

You can’t do this. You can’t keep up this facade or cover this moment with a lie you know he’ll see through. But you can’t tell him either. After all the weight he’s carrying, the weight of the being that grows in you should be yours alone. You can’t thrust that upon him. 

But it’s a delusion that you can keep this from him forever. You’re going to hurt him one way or another, and the weight of your silence and lies multiply every day you insulate him from the truth. 

You take in a shuddering breath as dread settles into your bones. You know what you have to do.

Even as you slowly lower your shields, opening your signature, your mind screams at you in opposite directions, ripping you in half, and your hand shoots out to the nearest wall to stabilize yourself. How could you be so sadistic to tell him this? How could you not tell him? After all the trust you have in each other?

But he doesn’t take the invitation. “I will not touch your mind if you are still unsure you want me to,” he says softly but resolutely as he approaches you, but stays an unthreatening distance away, as if approaching a frightened animal. 

No, no, no. You won’t have him being the one to sturdy you through this. You need to be strong, be ready, don’t force him to coddle you through the blast to his own chest. 

So you dial down your own emotions and switch your absorption to amplifying the still tiny, barely recognizable life you’ve been carefully censoring ever since you heard it yourself.

You want to close your eyes, blockade the pain of both how it impacts him and how it will impact you, but that’s not how you two do things.

Summoning every iota of bravery and resolve running in your veins, you force yourself to look up at him as you watch understanding coat him. 

His eyes go wide, and his hands clench and flex at his sides in an erratic, nervous pattern. 

You can’t keep your signature open to his mind’s reaction, you just can’t. He’s seen enough, and you can put your shields up again. His face is enough to confront all on its own.

Obi-Wan steps toward you, slowly, dazed in a completely uncharacteristic way. With the way he seems to ever be prepared for the blows life throws at him, you hate how you have to be the harbinger for the second one that’s knocked him off his feet.

When he stops in front of you, he places his hands on either of your shoulders and looks into your eyes, searching for confirmation, and you nod, trying to not let fear seep into your expression.

One of his hands covers his mouth as he takes it in. 

And then he’s sinking in front of you, off of his feet indeed, and onto his knees. You want to follow, ready to hold him through the heartache sure to follow, at the second child he didn’t ask for while he still grieves the loss of the first. 

But his hands instead take purchase on your stomach, tightening the fabric of your tunic around the barely-visible bump before bunching it up and lifting, just enough so he can tilt his forehead against the skin there. 

You can feel him reaching out, not taking him long at all to find what he’s searching for, and curiosity beats self-preservation at the last moment, prompting you to open your mind again, just for you to be able to catch elation coursing through Obi-Wan.

You don’t even bother trying to stifle your confusion as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

Sinking to your knees to meet him, you take his face in your hands, trying to make sense of it all as he takes your hand in his. “I never... “ when his voice comes out unsteady, he clears his throat and tries again. “I never thought I’d have... That we could… didn’t occur to me that now...stars above, how long have you known?”

You don’t recall when you start crying, but tears are falling freely down your cheeks as you shake your head. “I’m so sorry. I… I would never want to keep something like this from you, Obi-Wan, but I couldn’t tell you, not with everything, not with all you already have…and i’m so sorry.”

“Oh, heavens, no. You should not have to do this alone. Please don’t keep things from me, even if you think it to be for my sake. We can…”

You fix him with a pointed, unamused stare. He exhales as he must notice his hypocrisy. 

“Your point is well-put and taken, but the sentiment still stands. We’ll not keep secrets from each other anymore. Do we have an accord?”

Despite it all, you smile at his overly-formal phrasing, something you’d normally have a quip about if it weren’t for the concern still nagging at you.

“Are you not angry then? Or disappointed?” you watch him carefully, praying to any deity listening that he doesn’t concoct some half truth to placate you. His first instinct is always to protect, but you’d never want it at expense of his authenticity. 

Bafflement marks his brow at first, then he takes your face in his hands. “Darling, no.” He says your name, gathering every bit of your attention. “I dreamt of you. During the war, when I was away. I did not sleep well, even then, but when I did, I’d sometimes dream of you, holding a child that I knew to be ours. When I woke, I would remember it so vividly, so painfully, because I never thought that was an attainable future for us.”

But that doesn’t need to matter if you… do you want this child?” His eyes are so full of hope, and it was the last thing you expected, but here he is laying it down on the altar of your preference, and maker, are you glad those two things aren’t opposing each other. 

Because his hope and yours are one in the same, and once he knows it too, at your whispering, choked, “yes,” he’s clutching you in his arms.

And for the second time in a month, you’re both huddled on the ground in tears. The first, bowing under the mass of catastrophe. Now, at the glowing relief of the sprouting of a dream sown in tears, too tender before to even say aloud.

But now? You’re saying it, back and forth, from him to you as your walls fall, permitting him into your mind as he welcomes you into his, and finally you take true comfort once again in the home you’ve built in each other. 

*******

The night after, you lie side by side, hand in hand, on a blanket splayed not far from the hut. The suns have sunken, but the pinks and oranges of their palette still paint the sky where it hasn’t yet turned to midnight cobalt. The light of the lantern gives off a similar hue, dousing everything in your reach in soft, warm hues.

It has taken Obi-Wan some convincing, being so out in the open with everything he had to worry about wasn’t his first choice, but you compromised for a small alcove in the rock formations which surrounded you on two sides. More easily defensible. Not that he needed it, but if he was cautious before, it was borderline unbearable now. With the added danger of the Empire knowing without doubt that he lived.  With more than ever to lose. 

So, he was in charge of safety, you were in charge of snacks. And if they so happened to be almost entirely comprised of those melons you couldn’t quite get enough of lately? That was no one’s business except yours. You brought a few things you knew Obi-Wan liked too, of course. 

What little remains of the miscellaneous spread you push to the edge of the blanket so you can both lie down. 

“I dare say it’s almost pleasant out tonight.”

You turn your head to him, a snort ready at him discussing the weather of all things, but it instead forms a cloud in your throat at the sight of him. 

His eyes are closed, hair rustling in the slight evening breeze, a tranquil ease over his profile. 

The small patches of grey in the part of his beard next to his ears catch the first glints of moonlight in a way the rest of his hair doesn’t, giving them away. 

The mellisonant lowness of his voice brings you back to yourself, cheeks heating. 

“I can feel you staring, little one.”  He opens his eyes, leisurely rolling to his side. “Some say it’s quite impolite.” Slanting over you, he lifts a brow, daring your response.

“And is that a problem?” You look up at him through your eyelashes, feigning innocence. 

Obi-Wan’s gaze follows back up to the stars, as he plays right along, pretending to have to think on it. “I suppose it depends.” 

“On?”

“On whether or not you allow me to return the impropriety,” he responds with a coy smile, moving back to you, so close now you can feel his exhales on your cheek. 

Warmth blooms through you as you answer back, “You can always look, Obi-Wan.” You lift yourself to close the short distance between your face and his, pressing your lips together, which he deepens right away. Using the hand not supporting half his body off of you still, he fans out his fingers across your belly, towing the line between caressing gently and clutching protectively. 

You pull your lips back from his as an uninvited slither of insecurity slips into your chest. 

He senses it, of course, so you speak before he even needs to ask. “Are you really, truly, certain this is what you want? Now? I don’t want you to just say so because…and we could wait, we have...”

“I am,” he says, adamantly, before you even have a chance to finish. His eyes flash to the side. “I…” He rolls back onto his back, looking straight up as he talks seemingly half to you, half to himself. “There is not much I know for certain these days. Some days… I scarcely can remember who I am anymore.” 

He turns his eyes back to you, unwavering. “There are seldom few things I haven’t questioned of late, and my love for you isn’t one of them. And from the moment I’ve known, from the very first instant you let me feel the life within you, my love for them hasn’t been one either.” 

Your thoughts split into two, one wanting to lean into it, to take him for his word that’s always true, and the other cautioning you, telling you to keep distant and watch for the surface level honesty he gives that hides the brutal one he safeguards you from. 

But you’re not hiding anymore, feelings unconcealed in your energy and on your face, so he leans back into you, grasping your arm in his hand, squaring your shoulders to him. You cringe at yourself when you know he’s heard the impression of you questioning. It’s redundant, but self-doubt always is. “Know, please know, my darling.” Taking your hand in his, he brings it up to his temple with an insistence that you have no desire to counter. 

And it’s there. Right there and sparking in its clarity, right at the threshold of his mind as you enter it. How much he means his words, no holds barred, no cleverly crafted glazes to an unly underbelly of reality. His reality was this, how severely he craves starting a family with you. How much he already loves the being within you, how he looks forward to the day he gets to hold them in his arms. 

The fear is there too, quiet, but not kept from you. The fear of failing as a father, unsure of assuming any role that resembled a mentor again, all-too-familiar with the ghost that will float over him in every lesson he teaches. 

What shocks you there is his faith in you. In how much he’s already learned from you about the impact of open affection, in how you don’t let your feelings lead you, but you let them breathe, not suffocate them. It’s part of how he even can acknowledge his fears to himself and to you without berating himself under the too-simple phrase “fear leads to the dark side.” There’s truth in it, but also inaccuracy. 

Because he’s afraid, and yet, there is so much light in the acknowledging of it to himself, and in that very act, it loses much of any power it could have had over him. Oh, how deeply he wishes he could have articulated that understanding to Anakin. 

The pain is fresh, but so is his anticipation for the future, swirling together in a potent drink, and his throat bobs with the effort to swallow them down simultaneously. 

He knows you’ll help ground him through it, he trusts you, even in his uncertainty in himself.

It breaks your heart but also warms it: the knowledge that he lets you into that place where he keeps the questions of himself, the place only you and the man who’s caused most of this doubt have been permitted. 

 With a thankful short farewell, you part from his mind as you know exactly what you want to do.

The remains of your snacks still rest on the edge of the blanket, including the shells of the deep purple-pigmented melons. The one draw-back to their delightful taste was how badly they stained your fingers. You had to break them into tiny pieces, plopping them into your mouth without allowing them to touch your lips unless you wanted your mouth to stain too. 

But right now? The staining quality was just what you needed. 

Although first you needed a blank canvas. 

“May I take your tunics off?” you ask, sitting up. 

Despite a short twitch of confusion and then interest, Obi-Wan follows, raising himself up into a kneel, slightly lifting his arms in compliance. 

The paleness of his skin catches all the light of the lantern, highlighting your view as you slowly slide the fabric up and off, gliding your hands up the line of hair dipping below his navel as it becomes more exposed. It grants you a quiet, steep intake of breath from him and you suddenly give halt momentarily, distracted by the alluring appetite you’ve created. 

No, you won’t give in. Not yet. He needs to know this. 

You take one of the broken pieces of melon rind in your hand, where little tart bits of the fruit still cling, dribbling pigment, but before your finger makes contact with the taut skin of his chest, you pull back at the realization you might have bitten off more than you can chew. 

How do you even begin to describe him? Obi-Wan is so many things at once, so many attributes, and every descriptor that comes to mind falls blatantly short of him. 

Then you recall Obi-Wan going through the motions of Alchaka, watching his body fight to maintain the poses at times. Being such a personal practice, you felt honored that he let you see him go through the exercises, and even more honored that he opened up to you about the purpose behind it later. It was an exercise of both physicality and Force use, and the goal was absolute exhaustion. That was the destination. Trying, knowing from the start that he’ll fall short in the end, but doing it all the same. Because there’s so, so much to be said for the trying.

So you do. You bring the messy fingertip to his clavicle, smearing the first word you know to absolutely be true of him, as if starting the premise with a whisper of I know you’re even more than the sum all of these singular praises. 

The word “complex” appears in your penmanship on his skin as you drag it to life. You look up to his eyes, and his curiosity is clear there, but also so is the tenderness that is elemental to any time he looks at you. And just like that, you have your next word.

Kind.

And at the way he flushes so lovely for you at that?

Beautiful. 

You feel his protest before you see it, the objection in his signature, and you know you’re going to have to switch methods. 

Just then, a droplet from where you’ve written the last word on his pectoral falls, down, down, threatening toward the hem of his trousers, but you’re fast, dropping your mouth down and catching it all on your tongue before it can stain the bleached beige of his remaining clothing. 

When his stubborn revolt at the affirmation quiets in his mind in exchange for a flash of searing lust, you know exactly how you’re going to continue. 

Because Obi-Wan Kenobi, general, warrior, negotiator, Jedi Master, legend, has rarely ever been affirmed as such, and he squirms under the thick blanket of his humility and deprivation anytime someone endeavors. 

So you need his mind to be preoccupied enough, guards down low enough, so he can even hear the message get through.

When you place your hands over his waistband, locking eyes in inquiry, stopping when he hesitates, scanning the area around you, vigilant as always. Overly so now. 

“We’re alone. And wouldn’t you be able to sense it if we weren’t?” 

He looks down at you as he answers. “If I stay mindful enough to do so, yes.” 

Good, he’ll be even less prone to fight you if he has some of his mind sensing outward.

You look back up at him with the facial equivalent of asking “well?” to which Obi-Wan sighs in response. “Very well then.”

With your familiarity with ridding him of clothing, it only takes moments before you can finally taste him where you want to, where he’s already hard and swollen for you. 

 You know you won’t be able to take him as much as you want, a recently-developed overactive gag reflex preventing you. But it just so happens to be convenient tonight, as the resulting taunt should have him right where you want him.

A gentle kiss, right to the head of his cock is all the warning you give him before taking the whole tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him, pulling a choked hum deep from his throat. 

Oh, oh, Maker, have you done a grand miscalculation, because you forgot an entire factor in this equation: the way you have been borderline hysterical in hunger for him.

You’ve kept so much from him, and part of how you’ve even managed is starting to convince yourself of less than fact. Facts like how many times you’ve had to change underthings recently, physical evidence of desire unwilling to comply to your head’s demands. Facts like how you’ve literally had to bite your finger to keep the feelings at bay. 

You’d expected changes in your body even before your belly grew, but this was one you hadn’t anticipated. In some ways, it wasn’t that different than usual. You never knew you could want someone with the breadth that you want Obi-Wan. 

But this? Of late? It feels like it’s been amplified tenfold. 

You’re not keeping any cards close to your chest anymore, but you do have to ignore your own body’s screaming cries as you complete this.

He needs to know. 

Nerves still serenading his brain with feedback, you re-wet your finger with the purple juice and write the next words across his abdomen. 

Wise.

Perceptive.

He’s caught on to your scheme by now, cued by the all-too appropriate addition of the last word, and he lets you know it, an impression projected, speechless but still unobstructed. He’s still powerless against it. Or rather, letting himself be powerless. Trusting you with the control he has left, trusting you in his vulnerable places. The places where he’s weak.

Strong.

The word spread over his right upper arm, where he’s obviously just that. But may the tint of the word bleed through his skin, may it run through his veins, because that’s how deep and deeper still that his strength runs. It’s in the way he doesn’t flaunt it. It’s in the way he chooses to wield it. 

Gentle. 

He closes his eyes, flinching at the onslaught of acclamation, and you dip your head down again, wrapping your lips around his cock, letting him slide to where you can take him comfortably, just starting to build a pace as his hips squirm in harmony with his suddenly erratic breaths. Oh, how you’d love to let him deeper, allow his cock past your lips beyond the teasing amount you can take now, but the little writhes his body gives in protest are enough to almost make you okay with how your mouth won’t agree with your ambitions. He says your name, groaned out in bliss as he cups a hand on your cheek.

His barriers are down, so it’s easy to hear when his deprecating thoughts quiet again, and you switch back to coloring him again. 

You know the moment you look up at him that it’s a mistake, because he’s flushed, so torn, suspended in the limbo of your give and withdrawal, mouth ever so slightly open, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

You’re only human, so before you draw anything else, you bring your lips to his, which is yet another mistake, because among the many things Obi-Wan is, he is a deep kisser, and as his tongue delves into your mouth, your will power takes a devastating blow. 

You pull back, reeling at the reminder of how easily he can take back control, knowing you have to complete this before you let him. 

Stars, how you want to let him. 

For now, you need that control back, so you take him into your mouth again, filthily wet and not nearly long enough as you quickly pull back, watching in satisfaction as he heaves forward at the loss, correcting himself quickly back into straight posture. 

With a smirk, you drag your slippery, pigmented finger across his lower stomach. 

Disciplined.

There’s so many more words, so much more he needs to know, and if you covered every inch of his skin in the smallest writing it still wouldn’t be sufficient of all that he is. 

Or you could whisper it all through the Force, embed it all in his mind. 

But because you’ve been there, know his mind inside and out, you know every time he sees his own skin, all he sees is the red of blood on his hands. The blood of his brother. 

And that’s exactly why you’re going to stain it in your own colors. Take back territory and push back the front lines that the army of guilt has taken over on him. 

Your Jedi, ever-adorned in unassuming beige, now drips in the color of royalty.

Charming.

Humble. 

Confident. 

Steadfast. 

You’re only left with enough space for one more word, and you want some sort of conclusion to it all, something to summarize the expanse of the man kneeling in front of you. 

Nothing can. 

But maybe, just maybe, one word encapsulates what he is to you. 

Treasure. 

This time you do chant it across his thoughts, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you.

Cerulean blue blinks open, slowly, almost painfully and nearly overflowing with emotion. 

Thank you, is all he says, unable or unwilling to say it out loud, much too heartfelt and newly-budded for that.

You know his pain has older roots than those tended to in this moment, but you vow to yourself that you’ll never stop trying. 

Lowering your mouth around him once again, you don’t tease him anymore, at least not intentionally, even though you still can’t take more than half of him. 

“Look at you, you’re…” he hisses in a breath as you swipe your tongue against that vein on the underside of him. “Stunning. You’re doing so well, little one.” 

The taste of him compels you as much as his words, seizes you in spice-like addiction, and how interesting it’s going to be explaining that taste craving to him, among your sudden adoration for those damn melons. 

“Darling, I’m…” 

You feel it in his energy before he says it, already pulling off, replacing your mouth with your hand, dropping your lips down even lower, mouthing at his balls, and the feedback is instant. An outpouring crest of his pleasure blasting outward as he lets out a depraved moan, netting his hands into your hair.

Your hand is wet and so is where he’s spilled on his still flexing and releasing stomach, clear white maring the lettering halfway through “disciplined.” You’d clean it with your tongue if you weren’t sure how your overly sensitive taste buds would react now. 

It’s not the first time you’ve had sex since you’ve known you were pregnant, but it’s the first time since he’s known, and it’s the first time you’re not hiding the symptoms. Before, you carefully shied away from anything that might give you away, and between the preoccupation of everything on his own mind he was trying to keep from you and his respect for your boundaries, he never pressed. He had questions in his eyes, but you knew how to carefully reveal partial vulnerabilities to keep him off your trail.

Your chest flares at the memory.

We’re not hiding now. 

It’s your chant, your reminder, your comfort. How nothing of this caliber will be kept between you again.

His eyes confirm it, sincere and exact as they fight to break through their dazed slipping. 

Never again. His voice in your head is home, so consoling it can and has put you to sleep before. 

Right now, it wakes you up in a different light, dowsing you in heat as Obi-Wan takes your hand in his, wiping it on a piece of his discarded clothing before wiping the spend off himself. 

Then he’s taking your face in both his hands tilting you up before kissing you soundly. 

I love you, he says across the wire that ties your minds, the wire that keeps growing stronger every day. So, so very much.

You say it back, a fact as simple as breathing. You love him.

You want him, borderline need him the way you need your next inhale, you don’t say, but he must hear it anyway, because that cocky little smirk that’s been gone far too long is back.

“Shall we do something about that?”

You’re about to just lift your shift dress up and off in response, but he halts you, grasping your wrists. 

“Allow me.” 

He pulls you into another sultry kiss, completely neglecting the task of ridding you of clothing.

Or so you think.

There’s buttons all the way down the dress, and you’ve never used them, always wondering at their purpose if it can so easily lift over your head. 

At first, you don’t even know he’s doing it until you start to feel the coolness of the night air on your nipples. Opening your eyes, you pull back from him to watch as seemingly in thin air, your buttons undo themselves. 

“You needn’t seduce me further. You already know how much I need you,” you gasp, breathless from the kiss.

Obi-Wan just gives a small smile as he drops a hand, dragging it down your side, then down your thigh. “Hm. So impatient. All this from just pleasuring me?”

Maker, he knows! He knows that you are. You always have been, and it’s not as if you weren’t projecting your feelings too.

When he reaches a hand between your thighs, parting them and making a single, tempting stroke through them, his fingers come back glistening. 

“I should think you could feel that I am.” You let the tide of your frustration spill over into your connection to his mind. 

You know he had to hear you, but he gives no indication that he did. 

“Mm. Desire needn’t always be indicatory of impatience,” he punctuates his statement with a hand at the base of your skull, tipping your head back to expose your neck. “I need you to be patient, little one. Let me savor you.” And with that, his mouth makes contact with your neck at the same time his other hand plays with one of your exposed nipples. 

You whimper at the attention, quietly pleading with him for more. Among the still slight changes to your body, this has been the most notable one. How sensitive your breasts have become to even the scrape of the fabric of your clothing. 

And with the rough pads of his fingers working only one, leaving the other to pang in want...

“Obi-Wan,” it’s a prayer, a request. He doesn’t need his hands to cause sensation, and you’d beg him right now if he asked. 

He lets up on your neck, only barely, lips moving against the now throbbing skin. “Answer me first.” 

Clearing your throat, you give the most cogent response you can muster. “Depends on if you’re definition of savor is synonymous with torture.”

He locks eyes with you then, gently grasping a breast in each of his hands, dragging his thumbs over the nipples as you moan out your assent.

His chuckle is far too self-satisfied to be becoming of a Jedi, but you’re already too far gone to call him on it. 

“Is that what you want, little one? For me to torture you so?”

An affirmative whimper is all the response you can give, and Obi-Wan reacts quickly, taking your chin in his fingers and tilting your eyes up to his again. 

“Then you will be patient for me. Because I’m always happy to stop, and we can begin again when you decide to adhere.”

Your brain short circuits on the spot, and all energy is redirected much, much lower. His voice, stars above, his voice when it takes a commanding tone. 

It’s intimate, it’s personal, and yet this game is almost inappropriately playful for how sincere the moment is. 

But such was being loved by Obi-Wan. Full of dissimilar feelings that shouldn’t fit, but moved together in liquid consistency. Like metaphors that didn’t rhyme but still somehow gave their own life-giving rhythm, not dissimilar to the sound of his heartbeat when you lay your head against his chest at night. 

Making quick work of the remaining buttons of your shift and underwear, he beckons you to join him as he lies back down, large, warm hands guiding you to turn around so you’re facing away from him. 

You know that the purple stickiness of the fruit will smear from his body to yours like this, but you can’t at all bring yourself to care. 

You gasp a sigh of relief as one of his hands finds your breast, brushing a knuckle over the too-sensitive nipple. 

“Please.” Your whispered beg sounds pathetic, even to your own ears. But as you arch against him in a frenzied attempt at skin contact, Obi-Wan juts his hips forward, grunting into the exposed column of your neck, and stars, yeah, maybe he didn’t find that so pathetic after all. 

“What do you want, darling?” His voice doesn’t divulge any desperation, and for only the hundredth time do you envy his immaculate self-control. 

“You know, don’t pretend you don’t.” Leaving any doubt to the wind, you push your chest against his barely-touching hand. 

“Specificity can be a virtue; that I also know.” 

You change techniques, driving your hips back softly into where he’s hard and insistent against your ass, hoping it compels him. 

Then you simply… can’t anymore. You’re frozen, unable to move your lower half at all. 

Tangling your desires into a knot and tucking it away, you find the mindfulness to reply. “Yeah, so is mercy.” 

“Indeed it is. I shall concede when you do.”

You won’t win a battle of the wills with him. You’re not sure anyone could.

So you bring his hand over to your nipple. “Touch me here.” 

You feel his smile without even seeing it as he starts tweaking the bud. “Like this?”

It’s so much sensation, all concentrated on such responsive flesh, that you want to beg for him to switch to touching you between your legs.

You haven’t even finished the thought when you feel his unmistakable metaphysical brush against your thigh.

Extending a tendril of your own energy, you invite him in, and he takes it eagerly, ever as eager if not more to be entwined with your mind as with your body. 

He hears it all, the besottment, the arousal, the neediness. The panic that he might drag this out longer, that you’ll have to go a single minute longer without...

“It’s alright. It’s alright.” He sends soothing waves through your connection, and he swaps the positioning of his hand with the curl of power. He turns his hand so that the back of it runs through where you’re aching for him, gathering up your slick on the backs of his knuckles. You have to contort your neck to see what follows when he takes the hand back behind you, and your mouth goes dry when he sucks the knuckles in between his lips. 

You want to hear, you want to know what he’s…

He’s welcoming you in, navigating you to the brink of his mental barriers, letting you take that final plunge into the unsuppressed fullness of your bond to each other.

Now it’s your turn to hear it: how his carefully constructed unaffected persona is not at all a match for his naked, wanton need for you. 

And under that, the foundation on which that desire is built, not the product of it, is his love, his unyielding, unashamed, iridescent love for you. 

It’s all you can do but to pour it back, affirming and soothing and calling his love into action with your own. 

You both don’t want anything else except the most complete of entanglement, and that’s exactly what he moves to do, situating your bodies, hiking your top leg in the crook of his arm as you feel the initial breach of his body into yours, and all breath leaves your lungs in an exhilarating evacuation.

His audible gasp is an echo of his emotions, how he thinks he’s prepared for this onslaught of feeling, but how you take him off guard, how his equilibrium threatens to teeter every time. 

The web of his consciousness enveloping you, it’s easy to pick out a single thought blaring within him: How much he adores the way you fit together. Your back against his chest, how your breast fits in his hand, how the snug joining of where his cock presses into your body sends you into trembles, how comforting your very presence is to his soul when he lets you in like this. 

Tears, without warning, seep out of your eyes as he starts to move against you, slow and deep. You close your eyes, willing the powerful emotion away, but glimmers of light flash out behind our closed lids the moment you do, and how the kriff does he stay composed? 

Anchor. Anchor against me. 

He stills, letting you have a break from the barrage of pleasure blinding you as you search him out, looking for the cords of his intellect that seemingly both steam downward and beam upward, grounding him.

You find it, and you clasp on tightly.

But the moment he starts moving again, you lose sight of it all over again.

Your heightened hormones make your flesh so susceptible, and the tears start to fall again. Obi-Wan rolls your nipple in between his thumb and index, and he’s so good, and you’re so full, and you can hear his pleasure as your own, adding, doubling everything…

Scorching, electrifying heat speeds through your veins, hitting hard and fast, leaving you astounded and even more sensitive than before. 

Obi-Wan’s signature spikes as your climax resounds through him, and you can feel the vibration of the wanton noises he’s making right where his beard scratches against your neck. 

But he doesn’t allow it to overtake him, letting it run through him without resistance, making himself pliable but unmovable, keeping himself back from the edge. 

You still have much to learn.

Because that control? Gives him the ability to not even stop, not even hesitate once, even at both yours and his own ecstasy flowing through him.

When he starts striking his hips hard into yours, the weight of him inside you dragging exactly in the right place, you start to cry in earnest. Obi-Wan stops for a millisecond, concern radiating off of him, even when he can hear how much you want this so clearly, has access to every little passing thought. 

“Don’t stop, I’m fine, I pro…” He does just as asked while moving his hand down to your belly again, a soothing touch to his rough thrusts. Your eyes are blurred with wetness, overwhelmed with him. 

He’s listening to it all, applying every micro-feeling of feedback into action against your desperate, post-orgasmic skin, hand switching back and forth from your nipples to loosely clutching your neck, Force energy focused on applying pressure to your clit. 

“You’re doing so well, so good for me,” comes the wisp of his sultry tone, lips pressed against your ear. 

Since you aren’t even thinking about changing position, you know it’s his own preference that has him withdrawing, guiding you onto your back. 

There’s no inhibition this way, not the way there is when you’re on your side, no separation from your bodies being flush when he pushes into you again. You have to anchor in him, both mentally and with your fingernails clawing at his shoulder blades as your body starts into tremors.

He’s keeping the weight of his chest off of you, even though your belly is still barely swollen into distinguishable roundedness, and as much as you miss the contact, you can look into his eyes like this, can see the unfiltered attachment and all the weight of all the emotion he wills his body to not cave under. 

But then the tremoring transforms into series of contractions throughout your body, centering through your slick core, and you thrash your head to the side catching a glimpse of Obi-Wan’s fingers clenching into white knuckles, grasping into the exposed sand from the blanket being bunched up. 

He projects his thoughts across the tether to you,  how thoroughly impacted by the very fact you’re carrying his child, how affected he is by every little thing about you, honored that he’s allowed to touch you like this. 

You roll your hips back up into his, and that’s what it takes. His stuttering body is the lightning, and the searing, molten pleasure across your connection is the thunderous repercussion. 

It completely overthrows you, and your body bows against him as his high instantly cues yours again.

You can feel him throb inside you at the very moment you do, his turn to experience the secondary sensory white-out of your mate’s climax through the Force, his shuddering shout meeting your breathy whines in the close distance between your mouths. 

And he does kiss you then, soundly but with the haze of afterglow slowing it. 

“Have you any idea how bewitching you are to me?” He breathes it out, and despite all the ways you’d normally scoff at such words, his eyes tell the story, and you listen to it’s truth. 

His eyes hold that constant infiltrating study of you, the one that could be unnerving if his mind, still tethered to yours didn’t hold such amor, heart bleed such fondness that settles in the creases around his eyes. 

How interesting it is watching someone as knowledgeable as him having such an inquisitive outlook on life, and being so frequently the object of those investigations. 

Did the galaxy know her debt to him? Did she know the sum owed to inflicting the worst of life’s pains on someone who refused to let it build anything except an even gentler man of himself? When does she plan on repaying him? What does she offer in exchange for her cruelty of the hand she’s dealt Obi-Wan Kenobi?

Then the whisper comes, soft but crisp, from somewhere in the threads of existence around you, “Can’t you see? It’s you, child.” 

You could argue it. You could scream how it’s not enough, how you’re not enough,  how he deserves so much more from some dark insecure place inside you. Or how love shouldn’t be treated as currency in exchange for pain, how the galaxy could still have your fists if that was how it tallied. 

But the finality of it settles in your soul, more impressionistic than in solid wording: there is no easy conclusion that ties the suffering of life into purpose, no experience that erases or mends its pain. But love. Love makes the complicated endeavor of trying to find purpose in the madness worthwhile.  

Obi-Wan’s hum of agreement resounds in your ears and through to your head. His Force signature feels so familiar, so at home within yours and yours within his, that you’d briefly forgotten he could still hear you. 

With all the strength still left in quaking limbs, you wrap your arms around him, and he melts into it. 

The compassion of his soul hardly matches his war-ravaged skin, his guilt-ridden memories. Every good thing here came to be with a war waged, refined and not burnt away in fire at his sheer tenacity. 

It’s a growing thing, blooming in the desert. The beliefs in both of you. Your love for each other. Your own trust in the Force. 

Healing is no short journey, but her two sojourners here are determined.

And if that tender hope can blossom here?

Then maybe, just maybe: Tatooine is exactly the place for a baby after all. 

*********

In the valley beyond the hut, a boy jets quickly away in some mechanical contraption he recently motorized, a girl in a similar vehicularized compilation of junk not far behind. 

On the cliff’s edge stands Obi-Wan, eyes scanning the landscape intermittently for any sign of threat between longer affectionate looks at the children before him.

He turns, feeling your approach in his keen awareness as you set a hand on his shoulder from behind. His temples are now even thicker with sun-bleached silver, and his eyes wield the lines of laughter around them. 

And you? You’re as roped in by his gravitational pull as you’ve always been. 

He puts a hand over yours, clasping it to bring you in front of him, where he can still watch the children and encase you in his arms at the same time. 

“Slow down, Luke! You’re going too fast!” comes the distressed cry of your daughter, Ahlina, drawing your attention away from admiring Obi-Wan and back to the valley. Her vowels curl in the same way her father’s does, but her more casual phrasing was certainly thanks to you. Luke shouts back at her, “Come on, keep up!” while he races on ahead.

Obi-Wan smiles, seemingly amused at a secret joke. 

“They are much too young for this nonsense still,” he speaks, muffled slightly as he hides his lips in your hair. 

“Probably,” you reply with an airy laugh.

Not long after, the engine on Luke’s small contraption gives out, jutting him off and tumbling forward into the sand. 

“I told you!” Ahlina yells, her own machine coming to a halt not far away from Luke. 

When they make it back up the cliff, Obi-Wan couches and opens his arms, and they both come running with smiles. They’re still young enough to be unshy about affection, and Obi-Wan knows to soak it up, closing his eyes in relishment. 

Luke is the first to wiggle down, waving before running over to hug your leg, which you happily return, brushing some of the blonde mop of hair from his forehead. You adored the nights that the Lars let him sleep over. 

Although the nights that Ahlina slept over at theirs certainly had their allure too. 

“Can we have a snack, Daddy?” Ahlina asks, still happy to be hoisted up on one of his arms. 

“Hm. Perhaps I can make some of those ahrisa sweet breads again?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Can Mommy make them?”

“Why not mine?”

“Because you always burn them.”

He bops a finger lightly on her nose with a smile. “Cheeky.”

She goes to bop him on his nose in return, but he catches the finger, holding it. 

“Give it back!” she screeches through a giggle. 

“No, no. I think I’ll keep it now.” 

The suns are dipping low as you retreat into the hut, the two children running ahead, racing to gather the ingredients to help you bake the bread. Luke especially was an enthusiastic sous-chef. 

You step to follow them, but Obi-Wan grasps your hand. You turn back to him, and he barely gives you a second before he joins his mouth to yours. Sliding a hand into the auburn beard, you open your mouth to him, letting his familiar taste permeate your senses. 

He reluctantly breaks after a long moment, and you take his hand in yours. When you turn back to the horizon, the suns are dipping, blanketing the landscape in the most celestial light of the day. 

The planet’s eyes aren’t harsh in the way you used to see them. They’re still intense, and frequently unforgiving. 

Perhaps they never changed. Maybe only you did.

But as they sink now, you give a silent, partial farewell, knowing they’ll greet you again in the morning. 

Because if Dark’s patience is infinite? 

So is the promise of the return of the Light. 

Tagging upon request: @million-dollar-legs

[innittowinit]

Abandoned amusement parks are the best place for young children (chapter 5)

Fic summary: 

Techno, Tommy, Wilbur and Phil have been hanging out at the abandoned amusement park in the woods since they moved in. Techno likes knowing he's definitely alone with his brothers Tommy likes climbing on the old rides Wilbur likes having a place to play his music Phil likes spending time with his younger brothers

That is, until a group of brothers calling themselves the 'dream team' move in down the road. Will the sleepy boys give in and share the park or will they succeed in scaring the new kids off?

Chapter summary:

 the dream team talk how to maximize their attacks

the sleepy boys talk about no more fighting

Chapter word count: 1938 (a little shorter than usual sry)

AO3 

I am the author, please don’t re-upload this fic to any other sites/ reblog>re-upload

As the hazing summer weather beamed through the glass panes of their windows, the oldest of all the Dream kids, Bad, was recleaning out the scar on George’s cheek, making sure it was safe for him to go out for the day without him getting it infected, Covering it up with some gauze and medical tape once he was satisfied it wouldn’t be getting infected. Dream watched with ferocious intensity as he tried to memorise every movement, Bad wasn’t home very often, he had school and other things to deal with, so Dream was left to be the biggest brother most of the time. 

When he was little, he would have jumped at the chance to be in charge! It meant he was strong and trustworthy but recently, despite his confident facade, he did find himself getting worried a lot. Being the oldest meant knowing what to do when everyone else was scared, it meant being the bravest! And while he did have to admit he was a natural born leader, he didn’t always feel prepared. People were unpredictable and it scared him a little that it was his responsibility to judge them now. 

“Look” Bad sighed as he listened to his two youngest brothers rant on and on about how mean their ‘rivals’ were; as much as he hated to see them all upset and bothered like this, he was sure something must have happened to cause such a big feud. Kids don’t just fight for the sake of fighting right? When he was their age, he, skeppy and their other friend used to just prank people and play random games together. Maybe they did play fight, he couldn’t really remember..

“Are you sure that nothing happened to provoke them? I believe you muffin heads but maybe try to talk to them about sharing the park next time? Not everything has to be a war y’know……. And keep the gauze on this time! The doctor said you can’t leave it open until it’s fully healed. If you think those boys are actually dangerous I can go talk to their parents while you're gone, stay away from them though okay? I don’t want any more bumps or scratches.” 

As the boys all scrambled to grab their things before running out the door, they each gave Bad a hug, letting him know they’d call if they would be out late. The summer air lingered with an overwhelming feeling of comfort and familiarity as the three kids walked down the street, they hadn’t lived here long at all but they’d already made a name for themselves; they had even already made a group of enemies on the same street as them. This would be fun. 

Walking around in a thick green hoodie and a mask was proving to be more of a challenge that he had initially anticipated though, he wasn’t sure what kind of hell they had moved into but summer was so much more than summer. It was thick thick air, beads of sweat, and absolute torture. He felt his breath fog up and condensate his mask, leaving a coating of wet breath along the inside of the plasticy surface. It was disgusting but he’d rather pass out through heat exhaustion than take it off. Taking off the jumper was fine though, he did need to take extra care when pulling it off though since he couldn’t risk accidentally flashing his face.

Dream had always enjoyed the more violent games, he was an athletic boy, the most athletic out of all his brothers, and he loved trying to see if they could track him down or catch him. This usually ended up being games of hide and seek or bulldog that got taken too far, the scar on the cheek hadn’t been a big deal for them since they were so used to playing in such a rough manner. To them, this was all a game. They’d have a big war over the den but at the end of the day they’d still be friends, if he was being honest Dream was glad he had found other boys who liked the same kind of games as they did! 

His brother’s were fun but they were getting predictable, he knew how they’d react. He wanted new people to play with! He wanted the chance to team up with George and Sapnap and fight as one. 

This would be fun. They needed a plan though. 

“I think.. I think we need to prove that we deserve to hang out there too. There’s absolutely no reason why a little kid should be allowed there but we can't!” Balling his fist up and hitting it directly into the palm of his hand as he tried to think, Dream led the group in the direction of the woods. 

“Wilbur thinks he can talk about what they want as if we don’t exist! I say we declare war on L’manburg! Who are they to say where we can and cannot go!”

Sapnap, the youngest of the three but not by much -certainly not as big of an age gap as the sleepy boys had- had yelled out, waving his toy wooden sword around in mock anger. Really, he was a little upset about not being allowed into the park but it would be so much more fulfilling once they had earned their passage into it. 

Dream glanced at his brother and chuckled, George was holding a toy axe as well, himself having a nerf crossbow, which he had saved up all of his pocket money for a whole month to buy. After doing so many dishes to get the extra cash, he was absolutely going to try it out. 

“Dream you’re good at running, I’d say you should snipe them from behind a bush with your crossbow and when they’re weak you run in there. While they’re distracted George and I can charge in from another point. We shouldn’t attack today, George is still wounded and we aren’t prepared. Let’s just scope the scene and find an alternative entrance”

Admittedly, Dream had a tendency to underestimate his brothers. This was proof enough that Sap could be smart though, it would be an objectively bad idea to attack while they were weakened and the enemy was strong. They only had their ‘weapons’ to defend themselves with, in case the sleepy boys started throwing rocks again. 

In fact, he was still quite surprised that Wilbur even had thrown the rock. He had expected him to be an easy target, he was carrying a guitar around and he was so tall, Dream could definitely push him over if he wanted to play dirty. While it wasn’t ideal they had a tough enemy, he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t intrigued to see what would happen next.

Yes, this game was going to be very fun. 

----

“Okay everyone!” 

Phil called out, his three brothers all sat on a half-rubble brick wall. 

“So we all know that we’ve already had two people get hurt inside the L’manburg walls. Obviously nobody wanted this to happen, whether it was from losing your temper or just not paying attention to your surroundings, we need to do something about it” Phil clapped his hands together, he knew them well, if he made this into something fun they might actually take his advice. 

“L’manburg is not just a hang out spot, it’s not just a theme park either! It is our great nation! And, like every great nation, we need laws and rulers to keep us safe!”

Looking around, he saw how their faces perked up, even Techno, who didn’t usually enjoy roleplaying, seemed excited. It was a nice change, especially things were starting to get mundane, considering there wasn’t much of the park left unexplored -Wil had expressed a desire to want to check out the swampy area but Phil immediately shut down that idea, telling him that even if Wil ended up okay, Tommy would copy him and without a doubt get hurt.

“Wilbur will be your president, while I’m not here he’s going to keep you safe and make any tough decisions. Tommy, you will be the vice president” he had to keep himself from saying this role was just to keep the boy from getting upset at not being chosen for anything cool. 

“Tommy, this is very important, do you think you can handle it?” 

The young boy nodded excitedly, bouncing a little where he was sitting. 

“Okay, Tommy you need to help Wilbur make all the important decisions, and when anybody wants to join L’manburg you need to get Wilbur and then you can be in charge of making them go away” As silly as it was, at least he could trust Tommy to not throw rocks if he was told not to. 

“Finally Techno,”

“Oh my god, me too?” The teen chuckled 

“Of course, we need our warrior! Where would we be without our brave fighter!”

“Ah yes, the warrior. Tommy, I eagerly await your command. I’m so ready to fight people” Techno pulled his hair back, tying it at the back in a low ponytail as some small wisps framed his face. It was beautiful, everyone seemed to agree on that -unless they were overly masculine teenage boys- but Techno would kill anyone who dared say so in an instance.

He seemed to be stifling a little laugh, he was never into acting or theatre like his brothers were, while he was little he always preferred playing strategy games rather than make believe ones. That being said, he still loved seeing them happy and even though he doubted he would be doing it nearly as much as they would, he’d make an effort to play along.

The grin that shot across Tommy’s face was reason enough to roleplay, just a bit. 

“Okay okay so we need laws too! Wilbur, as the president, has already prepared a list” 

Phil sat down on the wall, it was cold and uncomfortable but against the humid air mixed with the slight smell of mildew from the slowly rotting park, it was nice. Last night, he had stayed up late with Wilbur, talking about this idea. If they gave Tommy a new place to hang out inside the park and called it the White house, he’d surely play there instead of doing whatever it is he does on the coasters. 

It still made Phil a little dizzy to think that they had been letting Tommy climb unsupervised while he wasn’t here, hopefully he had the mind to not go too high but knowing his brother, he would have taken the chance to climb higher. 

Wilbur cleared his throat as he got a piece of paper out of his pocket. 

“Dear citizens of L’manburg” 

Tommy giggled, which made Wilbur give him a little smile before he carried on with his speech.

“We will be a peaceful nation! I intend to rule this land without the need for any more people getting hurt. Any kind of weaponry, including collected rocks, are strictly prohibited inside L’manburg, the only instance in which we fight is if we are under attack! My fellow Sleepy boys, too much blood has been shed on this land, I hope you will all stand with me while I strive to steer this great nation in the direction of being more loving and accepting of our neighbours.” 

Phil chuckled as he watched his brothers, they all seemed so happy, most importantly though, they would finally have a reason to be more careful.

Hopefully nobody else would get hurt.

[reymallari]

How to have a fantastic bachelor party?

What is a Bachelor party?

The bachelor party is the one time throughout the wedding planning process when everyone is focused on the groom. So, when it comes to his party, make sure you're paying attention to him and what he wants. Too many guys organize bachelor parties for selfish reasons or haze the groom in novel and unpleasant ways. So, before you hire a practically naked exotic dancer to divert his attention away from his soon-to-be wife, be sure that's what your friend exactly wants for his final night as a free man.

A bachelor party may be one of the most memorable nights of one's life. You don't want to ruin your engagement by celebrating it with an event, do you?

Who's in charge of organizing the bachelor party?

The Best Man is the one who is in charge of planning and organizing the bachelor party. It is his job to ensure that the groom enjoys and remembers the celebration for a long time, as well as that the bride-to-be is pleased. Always keep in mind that the bachelor party is for the groom, not the host. In other words, when organizing the celebration, keep in mind the groom's preferences and dislikes. Before making any specific arrangements, talk to him about what he wants and what he clearly does not want.

How to have an unforgettable bachelor party?

If you want to have a fantastic bachelor party, planning a bachelor party requires some time that you cannot put off till the last minute. Find out what your friend enjoys doing that won't bother his future bride, and then do your best to accommodate him. It's possible that he may prefer to go to an arcade, play paintball, or even do something like competing at a batting range. It's his night, so he may sit about eating, laughing, and imbibing booze as he pleases. If the rest of his buddies are on board, then go ahead and do it. Keep in mind that this is his bash. This night is all about him, and the lads are simply a bonus. By the way, if you're going to be doing a lot of drinking, make sure you have two or three designated drivers. You may also hire a limo. However, this would be more expensive.

Planning the bachelor party

So you want to have an amazing bachelor party but are unsure where to begin? It's not a problem. Planning a bachelor party isn't difficult if you follow these simple guides.

Determine the ideal date for the bachelor party and start preparing at least six months ahead of time to ensure that all of the preparations are in place.

When planning a bachelor party, ensure you have a few trustworthy and responsible folks to serve as designated drivers. You may, on the other hand, hire a taxi service to send everyone home safely, or you can charter limos to carry everyone to and from the bachelor party.

With the groom, decide who should be invited to the bachelor party. Obviously, the male members of the wedding party should be invited, but is there anyone else who should be included who is particularly significant to the groom? Any man in attendance at the wedding might be a bachelor party guest. If someone isn't invited to the wedding, they shouldn't be invited to the bachelor party either. The number of people to invite is determined by various factors, including the location and type of activities planned. The guest list should not exceed 20 persons to keep things simple. If you have more than that, the party gets more challenging to plan.

Send out the bachelor party invitations approximately a month ahead of time to provide out-of-town guests ample time to make their travel plans. Send printed invites a week before the event to serve as a reminder. The bachelor's name, the announcement of their wedding, the time and date of the bachelor party, the location, and other crucial information must all be included on the invitation.

The next step is to determine the budget. The best man would usually foot the cost, but because it's impossible to expect the best man to cover the entire celebration, it's a good idea for attendees to pitch in. As a general guideline, don't have an extravagant bachelor party since it's not feasible for a bachelor party, and you'll just receive ugly looks at the wedding ceremony.

You'll need to select where the bachelor party will be placed, whether it'll be a restaurant or a bar or at a friend's house. Tables and chairs will be required; these can be borrowed or rented. You'll also need to decide how you'll clean up the space where the bachelor party will be held, as well as make any other special arrangements.

For the bachelor party, you will need to supply food and beverages. This might be catered meals or a potluck gathering. You'll need to figure out what kind of food and drinks you'll need, how much you'll need, and when you'll serve them.

The bachelor party plan will need to be double-checked and, in some cases, kept hidden from those who cannot keep secrets about bachelor parties and their activities.

Confidentiality in bachelor party activities should be treated with the utmost care, especially if hidden places and activities are planned. You may, for example, refuse to allow any photographs to be taken. You may also keep the bachelor party a secret from the bride to avoid causing any resentment by letting her know what might happen at such a gathering.

There you have it. Plan, send bachelor party invitations, choose a suitable site, make travel arrangements, and leave your camera at home. Choose a trustworthy buddy to accompany you to the event and keep an eye on the upcoming groom, and everything should go smoothly. So have a good day and be safe, and you and your pals will have a great time.

Whatever sort of party you're throwing, keep these tips in mind. Consider the groom's preferences and dislikes. After all, this is HIM's party. You and the other groomsmen are responsible for paying for all of the festivities. There should be no requirement for the groom to pay for anything on that evening. The bachelor party should only be open to individuals who have been invited to the wedding.

[guitarcenter1]

Is Guitar Center safe to order from

There are many great places to buy a new or used guitar online, but what about a place like Guitar Center? Is Guitar Center safe to order from? In my opinion, if you are going to buy a guitar from a place like Guitar center, you are going to be getting quality customer service. They have a solid reputation for helping their customers. In fact, many people prefer to order from a place like Guitar center that is run by music enthusiasts who actually like to sell guitars instead of dealers who only make money by selling trinkets.

When I was in high school, our school had a band room. Most guitar stores put their guitars up in the back of the band room so that when the band got together for a show, they all had their guitars together. When I was starting out, I bought my first guitar from a local guitar store. That guitar is still sitting in my closet, 20 years later. I took very good care of it did not break, even though I played guitar for a lot of shows.

A lot of people go to Guitar center to buy their favorite instrument and they get their shipping and handling fees taken care of. When I want to get an electric guitar now, I go online to find a place that sells them. Usually I can get a really good deal on a really nice guitar from an online guitar store. There are a lot of people selling guitars online these days. The selection is better than a brick and mortar guitar store. 

Know More: Does Mitt Romney own Guitar Center?

You will also want to make sure that you are buying from a reputable seller. It does not take long at all to check up on a guitar seller online. You can check for things like how long the seller has been selling guitar equipment, the feedback from previous customers, and there are even review sites for some online guitar sellers. A lot of music store employees can be trustworthy but you have to make sure. You should never pay full price for your guitar from an employee that is shady or just doesn't pay their sales tax.

You should also make sure you know how to order your guitar online. Some guitar stores use a telephone number for ordering, other companies do not. So it is best to call them up and ask what kind of order processing and shipping options they have. Also make sure the online company is secure before placing your order. Most reputable online guitar companies will have a toll free phone number for you to call if you have any questions.

You want to make sure that when you do order your guitar from a guitar shop in Pittsburgh or anywhere else, you get a receipt. You should keep this with your original copy of the guitar player handbook that came with it. Sometimes when you are getting ready to bring your guitar home, you can run into some problems and forget to get the bill of lading. Make sure that when you do get your receipt, make sure to photocopy it. This way if anything happens to your guitar while in transit, you can prove who the owner is. It might be worth the extra money to get a handbook

[kitchenfittersc]

Colchester kitchen fitters

Hire Colchester kitchen fitters after Asking these Questions

Engaging in planning or renovating a new kitchen is a traumatic experience if you do not consider a few essentials. There are beautiful choices and helpful Colchester kitchen fitters to give suggestions and ideas on a new kitchen design. When you consider consulting or hiring a tradesperson for your most important room, the kitchen of your home, ensure you get the right value for the money you spend. Without fail, get three or four kitchen fitters quotes, and ask each of them these questions:

 1.      Can you show testimonials?

Make sure the Colchester kitchen fittershave done a good job. Ask him to show a few work photos, even if he is a word-of-mouth person. After all, you should find a person working tidily and trustworthy as he will be in your house. Put your mind at rest and hire.

 2.      Does the quote include the old kitchen removal cost?

Removing a kitchen is a low-skill job, and there is no sense to pay full rates to a professional tradesperson. You can hire a small timer to remove and discard; it is your personal choice. However, now that you are hiring a skilled tradesperson, you may confirm the cost and stay clear.

 3.      When will you start?

If your kitchen is ready for delivery or you know the date of delivery, ask your Colchester kitchen fittershis availability. It is a must to see as you cannot afford to store a kitchen to be fit. If the kitchen fitter of your choice is busy for the next six months, look elsewhere. At the same time, a busy fitter indicates that his job is good.  Thus, it is best to choose a company that delivers and installs it.

 4.      Ask if he is capable of connecting the utilities?

There is the need to connect electrics, sinks, gas hobs, and ovens. It means you need a registered gas plumber and an electrician. Yet, you can check if the Colchester kitchen fitterscan arrange at the right time for these services. Thus, get a fitter to attend to everything. If so, you may have to pay more, but it is better as everything will be taken care of at the site.

 5.      Payment terms?

Plan, budget, and work out the costs to pay as installments each time.  However, your Colchester kitchen fitters will ask for an upfront deposit. You may check if the quote is all-inclusive and keep 20% of the cost for some different arrangements or some missed or broken fittings.

[ericasean01]

Ecosole simplifies the management of the collection of edible vegetable oils

Waste oil or used oil is that which is contaminated with other substances and consequently is not quite as safe for use; it may be hazardous. The possible toxicity saw to the introduction of several environmental regulations that govern and also require for the safe disposal of these oils so that damages to the natural environment, living organisms and humans are reduced. Waste oil recycling has for that matter become huge company with the business needing cooking and motor oils. Waste oils can get cleaned up and then utilized in different industries. Once the contaminants have been removed, the purified variety can be utilized in electricity plants in the production of electricity for companies, schools and even homes. Utility and industrial boilers can also use it or it could be mixed for marine fuels. Lubricants are also obtained in the recycled refined oil. The other areas where the utilized recycled oil can prove to be beneficial are in industrial burners, molding firms to release products, for bitumen based products, hydraulic oil, as an additive in product manufacturing and even as transformer oil. To begin the recycling procedure, you can deliver your used oil into a nearby collection facility that may pre-treat and recycle it or perhaps sell to a specialized used oil recycler. There are so many used oil recycling facilities now and you may be certain you have played a part in maintaining the environment and saved energy at the same time whenever you have your waste oil disposed properly. Not so many men and women consider improper disposal of used oil and they'll pour it out without a care in the world. However, this improper disposal leads to the oil getting into back yards, landfills, storm drains as well as sewers. It usually means that the dirt, drinking water and groundwater may get contaminated and sewer treatment systems can also get damaged. When you recycle the waste oil, you keep it away in the lakes, rivers and streams in addition to the ground water sources which you get your drinking water from. Recycling oils normally saves the environment, conserves energy and keeps you protected from hazardous contamination. You can easily get motor oil from your boat, motorcycle, lawnmower, vehicle or truck recycled. It's in itself a show of commitment to maintain the environment secure, for the sake of future creation and also for the conservation of energy resources. In as much as it is important to choose your used oil to a collection and recycling facility for the same, you need to make sure that you properly handle the oil before it has accumulated. In case you have waste motor oil, maintain it in a container which has a secure and a tight lid to make sure that there are not leak risks. Milk jugs which have protected caps may very powerful storage units for the petroleum. Ensure also that you don't combine the waste oil using any other substance, whether it is transmitting fluid or antifreeze liquid. The containers should then be kept away from ignition sources and kids. Do not overfill. Make sure the parking brake is set and start the motors in a well-ventilated place after you change the oil. Its pressure light may be on, but it should go out after a few seconds. Once the light goes out, permit the motor to run for a couple more minutes. Display responsibility. Protect the environment and preserve resources by taking your used oil and filter to your nearest used oil collection center. My buddy visits a used automobiles centre in Alexandria after do-it-yourself oil change into dispose-off used oil. Used oil is a concern of every restaurant proprietor. This natural byproduct of deep frying foods creates an annoyance for any owner. What can you do would all of those gallons of oil generated every day that won't put a strain on your business's budget? Luckily, there are a number of recourses for disposing of oil and also an astute owner can even turn that waste to profit. Most restaurants still use conventional oil disposal solutions to haul off the huge quantities of used cooking oil which are created during the course of routine business. However, depending on where your business is found, you could have more choices than you understand. Having a rising demand for oil to be utilised in a number of products and in biofuels, restaurant owners are finding they no longer need to pay to get rid of their unwanted acrylic. Finding a service prepared to cart your oil away for free or, if you're lucky, one that's ready to pay you for it might be as easy as perusing your regional yellow pages. When was the last time you looked to get a petroleum service? If it's been some time then you may not be aware of how much things have changed. What used to be a bothersome waste product has now become a valuable commodity. A growing number of refineries are ready to pay a nice price a barrel of waste oil to be used in feeds, fuels and other products. Therefore, many waste petroleum services are prepared to really cover your used cooking oil. In some regions, where you will find local rendering plants and refineries that use waste oil within their production, waste oil collection services can amass an ordinary cost $30 per barrel. As a result of this high cost and the ease of collecting the oil from your waste oil bin, a number of these services are ready to pay upwards of $10 per barrel for your own oil. The waste oil can then be taken to refineries and rendering plants where it's used for a number of things. Waste oil is used in animal feeds as a source of high energy fat. Waste oil can also be utilized to create biofuels which are starting to replace traditional fuels in several of industrial equipments. For those owners who aren't concerned about making a few bucks from their oil, but would rather help boost their image locally, there is another exciting option to get rid of all that oil. Riding the wave of the present trend towards environmentalism, industrious"green" mechanics have begun a movement amongst environmentalist everywhere in the region of alternatively fueled cars. Individuals have begun to convert diesel engines to run on pure vegetable. Waste oil burns clean and gets surprising excellent mileage. By earning your waste oil readily available to the public you're playing a role in helping the environment and building your reputation as an environmentally friendly business. We are living in an age where the environment and the ozone need much care. If we don't take care of our planet now, there can be very little that we can do to fix it later. One of the regions where folks lack in is that of properly disposing of used cooking oil. I have seen that many people, from individuals to restaurants, find it hard to properly dispose of the used oil. They simply throw it down the drain or in the backyard. This isn't ideal since it may have adverse effects of the organisms living in the garden and it might lead to drain blockages that can be unhygienic. For that reason, it's of extreme importance that you eliminate your favorite sunflower oil at a healthy and hygienic manner. It is important for the health and the health of the eco-system. There are a number of ways which you can locate a used oil collector. These would be the people or companies which have the infrastructure to collect and dispose of the oil in a secure way. Firstly, you can find out from other restaurants that they use to collect the oil. Usually huge restaurants contract oil collectors to gather from them on a daily or weekly basis, depending on their volume of used oil. You could contact the local municipality and request a list of used oil collectors. Google, of course, is among the chief procedures to find what you're looking for. So it's also excellent place to search for reputable collectors. If they have a site, you could find out even more about how they do it or you can contact them directly to find out more about this process. These kind of businesses will typically collect the used frying oil from you and take it back to their premises where they will bottle it to recycling purposes or eliminate it in an eco manner method. The used cooking oil could be utilized as biodiesel or from the chemical market. It's very important that you do check the trustworthiness of the collector as a number of them might not be reputable. Used oil can be a harmful substance and incorrect disposal can be damaging to certain eco systems and to individuals. Figure out if they have a certification that verifies them to be used oil collectors and that the oil isn't recycled back into the human food chain. There are many ways to dispose of used oil, but it is best to get in contact with a respectable company that can do this. Our core focus at Golden Fry would be to provide specially customized goods and solutions to Restaurants, Take-Aways, Food Manufacturers, Caterers, Wholesalers, Supermarkets and Spaza Shops. We are a licensed used oil collector. Are you considering starting a mobile oil change business? Well, there are a whole lot of things that you ought to know, and I bet you are outside searching for information online are not you? Okay so, allow me to give you a few pointers and tips. Below are some questions which lately were requested of me by someone like you who wants to start their own mobile oil change business too. These questions must do with removal of used oil, and also what to do with it once its collected - where to take it. You will find DOT rules, EPA rules, and local principles most likely in your area. You have to adhere to every one of these. Depending on the amount that would need to put up a diamond shaped placard on your vehicle. To receive supplementary information on Raccolta Olio Verona please learn more here. And you'll need to ensure that you can include the oil if the used oil tank gets a leak. Wouldn't it have been fine if they had comprised the oil that spilled into the Gulf of Mexico and cleaned up on shore? See that point an why this is a significant consideration. Additionally that petroleum was crude oil, the petroleum that you collect from cars and trucks once you change the oil is filthy refined oil, much more serious into the surroundings. Today's high-performance CNC machines operate in extremely substantial levels of speed, requiring an oil mist eliminator to remove vast amounts of coolant. As an example, the Haas MDC-500 Mill DrillCenter features a high-volume coolant pump along with a 40-gallon coolant tank. Mist eliminators are intended to take out the oil mist and smoke from cutting fluids in metalworking environments. The health dangers of petroleum exposure associated with the machine tool sector have been well recorded. The websites for OSHA, NIOSH and the CDC provide an abundance of valuable information for both employers and employees regarding safety problems and cutting fluids. Among the most common afflictions of employees exposed to oil mist is Hypersensitivity Pneumonitis (HP). This can be an allergic reaction to machine lubricant which worsens with continuing exposure. HP is due to germs in the cutting oil that affect air sacs from the deepest part of the lung. Symptoms include fever, chills, deep coughing and shortness of breath. A mist eliminator accumulates and eliminates the damaging particles and smoke from petroleum jelly. Does an oil mist eliminator protect workers health, it may also help increase production and improve your shops overall atmosphere. It is undoubtedly very important to get your car's oil changed on-time. But since it's all about the very valued part of your vehicle, the engine, it is very important that you have essential information about it such as quality to use, timing of change (if it really is important to change car oil after 3000 miles), and many other tips. You might not be close to an auto mechanic or you just wish to home improvement, a friend of mine in Fairfax, VA gave quite helpful tips regarding this: Do not alter oil while the engine is hot. Let it cool for a couple hours. It can burn you badly. Allow it two hours at least to cool before beginning. When engine is hot, its temperature generally touches 250 levels. It may burn you badly. Another reason why you should cool down the oil is that all residue settle into the bottom of the pan. Oil chemistry and engine technologies have now improved to the point that most cars can go a few thousand more miles before changing it. So 3,000 mph change is not necessary for all the cars. Although most cars require 4-5 quarts of petroleum, you must nevertheless owner's manual for the recommended amount is necessary and more notably recommended grade of motor oil for use. If you're traveling on bike or automobile for a lengthy journey and you think your car needs oil change, here is a great tip to get assist. The natives can buy the used oil from you. They purchase and use it to paint on the underside and foundations of homes. It prevents termites from eating the wood. So, if you're on the street and want to change the oil, just walk up to a few of the houses and tell them that you need to change your oil. They will assist you if you request them to bring their own container to take used oil. Oil recycling company initiatives make it possible for restaurateurs and professionals from the food service industry to maintain the environment a cleaner and greener place. By using these tools, restaurants, specifically, can turn waste into profit in a short time period. Clients that use oil recycling include little cafes as well as large institutional facilities, like kitchens in medical facilities, prisons, or colleges. Assessing the use of animal and plant byproducts is one approach to reduce environmental waste. Oil recycling company services include everything in the pick up of cooking fats, regular grease trap maintenance, as well as the cleaning of grease interceptors and capture basins. Restaurateurs who would like to increase their bottom line or receive their establishment up to code may benefit from such services. It is irrelevant whether a facility produces just a couple gallons monthly or has a large grease trap that needs constant cleaning, all businesses or institutions in the food service industry can profit from this sort of recycling agency. Partner using an oil recycling firm whose primary aim is to maintain grease traps, so the amounts comply with your city's codes. As you do have to spend less on maintaining collection methods, the assortment of this oil or grease is entirely free. Therefore, recycling is a sustainable and cost-effective way for a company to increase its bottom line. The gas that is made from recycled oil isn't just renewable, it is a clean-burning replacement fuel which makes it possible for the U.S. to rely less on oil sources from overseas countries. Not only is biodiesel better for your environment, it produces more job opportunities throughout the U.S. EPA-designated fuels meet stringent technical qualifications for quality and performance in motors. As a result, biodiesel fuel that's created by recycled means may be utilized in all types of engines, and is even covered by leading engine manufacturers' warranties. Since the start of the 21st century, the manufacturing of biodiesel fuel has gone from 25 million to over one billion gallons. The biodiesel fuel industry jobs that it will fabricate approximately 10% of the diesel transportation reservations by 2022. If that goal is met, it usually means that the U.S. will depend less on oil imports, and that, in turn, will also lessen the trade deficit. Biodiesel plants are situated across the U.S., including all the facilities equipped to produce as much as three billion gallons of biodiesel fuel per year.

[medigocrazy-blog]

Dexamethasone- The Wonder Drug or The Desperate Hope?

Despite all the desperate efforts to control the spread of the virus SARS-CoV2, wiz getting on nerves of us, humans, as a very, very, social ;sometimes; toxic, species 

Hello,          I am Arjun and this picture is not me. Its been like 6 months into this pandemic and I have been eating all this junk you can actually say that this picture is me.Gosh, I was so excited for 2020 because so many exciting things were about to happen. Elon Musk was actually going to complete that Neuralink trial thingy by the end of this year and I could finally end my never ending struggle to take care of my> oh my god> numerous organ systems? my weight ? and my metabolism? any my eyesight? and my everything? Who the h*ll does that? 

But no, its just not happening guys. I am pretty sure now because 2020 is just the worst year! let us just agree to that as a starter!

Can you guys like believe that we cannot go out for window shopping anymore?

I go out to buy milk and I have to wear this Halo master chief armored suit thingy.

Ordering from Starbucks is just a pandemic and one kidney away and I certainly cannot beat the Indian summer heat.

I am desperate, I am so desperate that Baba Ramdev doing Yoga at 4:30 in the morning actually makes sense somehow.

I am so desperate that my lockdown 3 AM anthem is :

Taoism talks about how you should go with the flow so thats what I am actually doing, I am finally going with the flow,

But it feels like this flow is actually going towards a falling waterfall and we all are almost on the edge now.

The International airlines are shut down You cannot travel to Ladakh or Goa with your friends and Emiway just featured Macklemore in his song? Like seriously? He went from worshiping M&M to MM? Half a million people have died due to the Coronavirus alone

Yemen is going through a civil war and one of the worst famines in modern history.

And for some reason Delhi is getting its ego drop by a series of Earthquakes.

Well,  Thank You 2020, UNESCO just declared you to be the most confused year in the history of mankind. Like seriously, please decide what you want man.

Now, lets talk medicine.

Lets talk about the scope Dexamethasone potentially has, against Covid-19,

There has been numerous claims in the recent past to have successfully found a potential cure for Covid-19, But I was like meh; BUT I am pretty excited for this one which Oxford just released a statement for I think last night maybe.

The World Health Organisation also applauded the initial results of the study.

It is really interesting, the excerpt said that they are trying to publish the data as soon as possible which basically makes it a more trustworthy of a claim.

The study was an attempt to potentially use Dexamethosone  (A long acting corticosteroid which can remain in the systemic circulation for as long as 3 days) as a DOC for the Covid19.

What are Steroids?

Steroids is a group of chemical compounds with extensive properties often used as a drug of choice for many life threatening diseases.

Some steroids ( Androgenic Steroids) are activated due to stress and leads to many anabolic processes inside your body for example "Muscle building", When you are like trying to get those gains so badly in the gym, what basically happens is you are stressing your muscular cells (also injuring) as a result of resistance training and then steroids are produced as a physiological response so that more and more protein is available for the muscle to repair (btw this is the reason why some bodybuilders using anabolic steroids, end up gaining exceptional gains over years of steroid use)

Some steroids (Glucocorticoids) can strongly suppress the immune system by either suppressing certain genes in various immune cells or by blocking the important enzyme activities. These steroids can act as Anti Inflammatory too which basically means these steroids counter any inflammatory response which can be physiological or pathological. This is the reason that if a steroid taken in the early phase of the Covid-19 disease (The mild symptomatic or Asymptomatic phase) can actually suppress the immunity to a certain point that the drug itself becomes counterproductive.

Some Steroids (Mineralocorticoids) maintain the mineral balance by salt retention, etc. Lets just skip this one.

Adrenal Gland produces Steroid. Them tiny glands you can see above the kidneys.

Now the immunity suppressing nature of Dexamethasone is also the reason why it cannot be taken as a mass prophylaxis drug,  unless the patient is in a state of severe immune response to the infection and requires ventilation or ICU.

The exudate formed in the lungs become an overwhelming immune response to fighting the virus and becomes fatal by causing the patient to stay in respiratory distress and finally succumbing to death.

The Trials done by the Oxford University aka RECOVERY trials, said that :

"1 death would be prevented by treatment of around 8 ventilated patients"

or

"around 25 patients requiring oxygen alone as of now"

*The prognosis may potentially increase as with other combinations in the future*

The study is really interesting because the study population was relatively large ( around 11,500) ; The Cohort population was around 2100 and Control was 4300 which is really exciting.

How does Dexamethasone work against SARS - CoV2?

Dexamethasone is a long acting Corticosteroid and mostly suppress the genes of immune expression

This is the Mechanism of Action of the drug if you are interested:  

Dexamethosone vs The Immune System :  

The goal of this drug is to just deactivate the immune system which has gone kinda crazy over this virus.

The immune system (IS) basically starts acting like its IS and terrorizes the whole body like its Iraq or Syria.

Jokes aside, This drug can really do some great damage to the hyper super- immune response which is kind of self destructive as the disease progress. Let's try to understand HOW

Only Within 6 hours of single dose of Dexamethasone:

There is a decreased availabilty of lymphocytes, eosinophils, basophils, monocytes,

These cells start redistributing and becomes less available and inactive for almost a day or two.

Also there is a decreased adhesion of these cells to blood vessel walls due to Dexamethasone, Actually the drug is not letting these immune cells to cross the wall of the vessel and go to the infection site (which is kinda cool cuz' no immune response no problem right? seriously why didnt evolution think of this?)

SECONDLY < there is a > decreased phagocytotic capacity of the immune cells so that they do not eat up the virus and form further exudates.

Finally leading to the decrease in respiratory burst (It is the area inside a phagocyte where we burn the pathogen inside the phagolysosome usually, in the case of Covid19,  later explodes and kills us, Dont worry the jokes' on evolution not us )

Now the first most remarkable thing Dexamethasone does is, that, it suppresses Macrophage activity.

Which is basically blocking the Arachidonic Acid Pathway, Prostaglandins, Leukotrienes, Interleukin 1, Interleukin 6 and TNF

Explaination :

IL-1 goes to the brain and causes fever and normally increases the production of steroids by stimulating the hypothalamus, but since we are giving Dexamethasone (which is a steroid) there's something called as a negative feedback and it decreases the natural physiological production of steroid, causing the person to be severely dependent on steroids; and if the person stops taking this steroid, he can eventually die due to acute adrenal insufficiency, thats the reason why we should always taper the dose when withdrawing a steroid.

Now,

The Interleukin 6 usually activates almost all other immune system actions (Remember that respiratory burst is also decreased and hence theres no signal from the MHC I and II to activate the immune system either)  but when it is suppressed by Dexamethoasone, it cannot activate the immune response like it normally would.

The second most important thing is that Dexamethasone down stimulates the cooperation between naive T cells and Interleukins

In Covid 19, Macrophage connects with the Naive T cells and there is a co-stimulation and can be two pathways. (depending on which interleukin is available for the naive T cell)

The first pathway:

In presence of Interleukin 4, these Naive T cells convert into T helper -1 cells which further increases Interleukin 4 and Interleukin 5 by positive feedback mechanism.

Finally causing the other cells of cell- mediated immunity, the "B-cells" to become active and produce antibodies which bind with the virus antigen and try to repeatedly neutralise it. (and kills us).

The Dexamethasone can potentially end all this suffering by attacking a gene known as GATA3 on the T helper 1 cell, (Remember Steroids suppress some immune genes it is just one of them) and hence GATA3 is suppressed, and therefore the chain is broken and there is no immune response ( yay, we alive now)

The second pathway :

If the naive t cell has Interleukin 12 available instead of Interleukin 4, it becomes T helper 2 cell, which produces Interleukin 2, which activates Cytotoxic T cells which produces some naughty proteins called perforins and granzymes.

These Perforin causes perforations in the infected cell and granzymes are then injected to that infected cell which makes the cell kind of commit suicide I guess ?. (and it kills us)

Dexamethasone acts on the T-bet gene on the T helper 2 cell which suppresses the further activation of immune response ( and hey we back to life again)

Now, ALL this information which just went over all of our heads is just the immune suppression of steroids, Lets not go in details with the EXTENSIVE collection of what Dexamethasone can actually achieve.

Please note the trials were done with Dexamethasone and not other corticosteroids mainly because of its wide availability, inexpensive nature, and most importantly because it is along acting Corticosteroid despite being the most potent among them

Dexamethasone also decreases inflammation

Explaination :

Our Cell membranes have a phospholipid bilayer, which is converted by PLA2( Phospholipase A2 ) enzyme to Arachidonic Acid. a) Arachidonic Acid is acted on By COXs ( Cyclooxygenases) to release PGE2F2, PGI2, Thromboxin A2 b) Arachidonic acid can be converted to Leukotrienes by LOXs (Lipooxygenase)

Dexamethasone can block the PLA2 enzyme and COX2 and COX1,  by producing Lipocortin 1, and therefore there's no formation of Arachidonic Acid in the first place, and the whole inflammatory system goes down. (Kudos to the structure of Dexamethasone)

Please, keep in mind that we do need the immune and inflammatory response in the early part of the disease but as their  actions overwhelm the healthy effects of the process, steroids can be used. Not too early, because it can actually worsen the disease if steroids are administered too early.

Some Side Effects which are to be kept in mind :

1. Withdrawl :

- Underlying disease which we were treating may rebound even stronger than before - Acute Adrenal Insufficiency - Pseudotumor Cerebri - Myalgias - Arthralgias - Malaise

2. Hyper use of steroid for long period :

- Fluid and electrolyte abnormalities - HTN ( more sodium retention) - Hyperglycemia ( gluconeogenesis) - Increased infection susceptibility (suppressed immune system) - Behavioral disturbances - Striae (fat redistribution)

While this is a serious concern for us as Indians, people are already stocking up Dexamethasone, price is most likely to spike up and things actually somehow do not work perfectly in India. Let's hope we learn from our mistakes in the past and just get this done and over with. PS - I will try to post more articles like this if I find something interesting regarding the pandemic. Thank you for the time. :)   Feel free to contact.

Source: Dexamethasone statement by WHO

https://www.who.int/news-room/detail/16-06-2020-who-welcomes-preliminary-results-about-dexamethasone-use-in-treating-critically-ill-covid-19-patients

Oxford Recovery Trial Statement

https://www.recoverytrial.net/files/recovery_dexamethasone_statement_160620_v2final.pdf

[sbobet6118-blog]

Online  Betting : The Enjoyment Of Betting In Your Home!

Gambling on the web is quickly becoming a worldwide trend with the young and old riding the wave of reputation the internet version of gambling has unleashed. Needless to say you can find offline casinos too but their place is little by little being taken by the internet version sbobet .

On the web casinos will be the electronic variation of a genuine casino. The reason behind their intense acceptance is that they are start around the time and you can enjoy the games from the convenience and privacy of one's homes. On line casinos give you this type of big range of choices which is difficult to locate in the local casino. A lot of the on the web casinos provide free sign up and subscription with little prices to perform different games.

On the web games subscription process is easy and can be completed in a matter of minutes. The knowledge resembles that of a genuine casino, maybe even better. It is a good way to savor the ability of gambling when you want particularly for many who do not need access to a casino within their state or country. Some casinos only require you to enter your title and code to begin gambling while others may ask you to download their specific application for you really to begin gambling properly online.

On line casinos offer greater limits and provide you with a better opportunity to get and actually strike the jackpot. You can play as many games as you are able to without limitations which normally increases your earning probability. The online casino websites are easy to find but you will need the assistance of authorities to learn which internet sites are true and which are fakes because there are unscrupulous things at the office too.

There are many casino evaluation internet sites which offer detail by detail and authentic details about on the web casinos. They also rate the casinos on numerous parameters such as for example dependability, games , characteristics, payouts and popularity. You should use these evaluations to determine which on line casinos to put your levels and which games to play. If your casino is working over and over repeatedly on many casino evaluation sites, it obviously means that that casino is trustworthy and dependable.

Nowadays, casinos receive safety ratings by ranking agencies. That is still another method to make sure that the casino you are applying is secure and chance free. Gambling on line along with traditional involves a certain part of risk.

An intelligent person after said that living is really a gamble. He could not have been more right. Whatever job you decision is really a gamble , what measures you take to advance in this career is really a gamble , and actually understanding if it is time to make your transfer is really a gamble. How much are you ready to gamble when it comes to obtaining your financial freedom. I'm planning to allow you to in on the key of actual gambling.

There are on line gambling websites which have are making persons millionaires each day. These website have high payouts as long as you're willing to put large bets. People go on line searching for quickly and appropriate way to make money. For reasons uknown they've they need income therefore poor they are willing to get the large risks. Many of them leave built guys, while the others only walk away.

Such a thing and everything that you do is just a gamble. Some gambles are larger than the others, but you however never know what the results is going to be for the path you choose. On line gambling sites give you as much of to be able to generate income as different opportunities do. At the very least if the gambling investment takes care of you is going to be immediate gratification. Other investments and you chance the change of experiencing the cash that you built tangled up for decades in technicalities. Online gambling can be extremely addictive so make sure that you have an objective and understand what your limits are so you do not get moved away.

Your competitors is hard and questionable with casino houses competitive together in order to give the best assistance and solutions to be able to continue to keep consumers on board. The perfect gambling web sites offer 24 hours each day client care support and at once in addition they enable admittance to service-free hotlines. Having an sudden increase in need, the gambling industry has, undeniably, seen a good advantage that has been due to the start of online gaming websites. Obviously, significantly has occurred to gambling with the coming of the Internet.

Before you finally produce your mind up becoming a member, experience and get a glance at totally free campaigns, giveaways and bonus deals that function to entice skilled game lovers and rookies alike. Several gambling houses are reliable but since there are many deceptive sites on the market, you ought to be wise. Everything considered, you would trust your gaming income with them and require some guarantee in the website.

Every place which includes gambling as a favorite task presents net websites that accommodate its regional game enthusiasts. Make sure you have a look at regional internet sites that provide domestic gamers to be able to have payment and deposit preparations that are suitable with the local banking guidelines. Have a look at the charge of the payouts because it establishes the reliability of on the web gambling websites.