#his hands however need urgent sanitising

[a-pigeons-soliloquy]

WAIT OR DID YOU MEAN PHYSICALLY TACKY

bc in that case i feel like he'd probably memorise the info and drop it into the nearest fire lmao

do you think hannibal ever asked for someone's business card and they were just like "uh. no"

[extremelyblackandwhite]

dear

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: fluff

SUMMARY: small imagine about bucky seeing his daughter for the very first time. 

based on dear theodosia

Bucky was passing the room like a crazed man, side to side for at least an hour. Between walks he would give the nurse guarding the door just a few feet in front of him the biggest glare he could muster. One day. He was one day late from his mission deadline and just as the quinjet was landing, he got a message from Y/N telling him she had just gone into labour. 

“It’ll be fine, James. The baby won’t be here for another month.” were the words that had convinced him to take on a surprise, yet still very urgent mission that Steve needed him for. He didn’t want to go, he wanted to stay at home with her, watching every move and making sure he would miss a minute of his baby. Unluckily for him, the baby was much too impatient and decided to come a month earlier than the expected due date. He had rushed to the hospital but the nurse had told him he couldn’t come in because of his wounds and that he wasn’t “sanitised” enough to be in the delivery room. 

His eyes kept darting over to the clock. How long could labour take? He kept thinking of his Y/N all alone in that delivery room and the screams being echoed down the hall didn’t make it any easy. However, it was either this or being kicked out of the hospital. He ended up seating on the unbelievably uncomfortable plastic chairs, turning on his phone to look at the lock screen of his wife sleeping, cradling her pregnant belly. Oh, he would miss that pregnant belly.

     - Mr. Barnes? - another nurse called out his name. - Mrs. Barnes is stabilised but a bit drowsy due to the anaesthesia. We took her back to her bedroom and the baby is in the baby room for some tests. Would you like to see her?

     - Yes.

His heart was beating fast, too fast. He had spent countless nights imagining what the baby would look like, if she’d have his eyes or Y/N’s, if she’d have that little mark he had on his back or not. He had spent his free time wondering what he’d feel like when he first saw his daughter but now as he followed the unbelievable fast nurse. He was nervous. Bucky Barnes was nervous and as he noticed the big window which gave few to the several babies in the room, his heart beat even faster. The nurse came inside the room, telling him to wait but he didn’t listen, looking through the window as she picked a little baby wrapped in a little yellow blanket. His world stopped moving, his heart stopped beating, life stopped for a while because all he cared now was that little bundle whose face he couldn’t even see yet. 

    - Well dad, here is your baby. - she put the little yellow bundle on his arms. He looked down at his daughter, she was wide awake, blue eyes staring into his. She had her eyes. - I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. 

Bucky was at a loss for words, he didn’t know what to say to his daughter or how to act even. However, he could feel the tears pool at his eyes. In the middle of all this darkness he had managed to make such joy, such a bundle of prosperity and light. God, why couldn’t he figure out what to say? Maybe it was a thing that the Barnes’ girls held. Only her mother had gotten him tongue tied before so it made sense. 

    - Hi Gracie. - he almost mumbled, trying not to scare her but young Gracie was already used to her father’s voice. - You’re breaking my heart here, Gracie. You’re just like your mum aren’t you? 

All the babies in the other rooms seemed to be sleeping but his Gracie was wide awake, her blue like eyes twinkling with curiosity as she first saw her father. Bucky once again was speechless at her, at her little nose and little pink gloves covering her tiny little hands which had made their way to hold his finger. Moments of his life flashed through his eyes, from meeting Y/N to the very first moment she told him she was pregnancy. He knew she was pregnant, he knew he was going to have a baby but he had never felt like a father, not until now. His whole gravity centre shifted and the little girl in his arms, barely an hour old, already had control over him. 

     - God, I really don’t know what to say, Gracie. I ... listen I’m not the best man, sure your mum will disagree with that but your mum loves to disagree with me and I’ve done so many mistakes but, I promise you, I promise you I will do whatever it takes to make the world safe and sound for you.

     - Mr. Barnes? - his grip tightened every so slightly as the nurse’s voice echoed through the small room. - Your wife should be waking up in a while. Would you like me to take you to her room?

The hospital was calm, calm enough for him to listen to his daughter’s little breathing. She was adorable with her little lips as rosy as her mother’s, little gloved hands holding onto his finger, ever so often pulling it close to her lips to suckle on it. The nurse allowed him into the bedroom where Y/N was ever slightly awake, still under the effect of anaesthesia. She looked up with a tired smile at her husband and daughter as the nurse left the little family alone. 

    - Doll, I’m so sorry. I tried getting in but the demon nurse said no and I wasn’t supposed to be this late. I can’t believe I lost my daughter’s birth. 

    - It’s very 40′s of you. - she joked. - Can I hold her?

   - She’s beautiful. - he sat on the edge of her bed, handing her Gracie. He swore his heart burst as Y/N cradled Gracie against her chest. - Like her mum.

   - She has your eyes. - she said happily. - Oh, look at you Gracie Barnes, you’re gonna break a lot of hearts with those eyes. 

   - Yes because no one is gonna be good enough for her.

[srbachchan]

DAY 4414(i)

Jalsa, Mumbai                       Apr 7/8,  2020                   Tue/Wed 8:14 AM

Alright .. tempers cooled a bit though not entirely .. the Tumblr format has again changed and it is off putting .. but what .. an alternative is not available , so one endures .. 

Please find below the social media links for the film, you can retweet this link on twitter on Facebook and can share this link, however since the duration is longer you will have to upload the video natively on IGTV on Instagram.  Attached is a google drive link of the film from where you can download the video and then upload it on IGTV on Instagram.

Twitter- https://twitter.com/SonyTV/status/1247187306764619779 FB- https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=983267872088458

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/tv/B-pQ_7yFW7n/?igshid=i8f5n3jua5au

Google drive link with mp4 for IGTV

SO ... these be the links that were given to me by Sony PR and when displayed at various platforms gave the enthusiasm that was written about in the previous .. yes .. appreciation came in waves upon waves .. known and unknown alike .. connected and unconnected .. all .. from and without too .. pro and anti .. those in support and those in non support .. they that cooperated , and they that distanced themselves from support and the coop .. we are all mere beings .. the universe fills itself with so many .. many of difference and different kind .. when the grains on each leaf .. when the microscopic elements .. of virus shape size and disposition exist in natures creation .. what are humans .. ?

Blessed be all .. they all contributed .. contributed in applause and in reject .. reject is most important .. gives fight a chance .. without it fight would be an imbecile .. unarmed, weak and without prepare .. unpreparedness is a curse .. prepare .. keep ready for use .. it comes in use , anytime without warning .. so eń gardè  .. or whatever the correct French is  .. French , yes the beauty of its rendition .. the sweetest in the world .. next valued be Bengali , the tongue .. the delicacy of its existence, its presence in the many wondrous elements .. 

BUT .. I stray .. 

Yes the completion of the ‘film’ was a task .. a gentle idea shared by Prasoon Pandey, Director of Ad., films and with whom I had worked several times .. with him and his elder Piyush Pandey, head of that Ad., conglomerate O&M .. and when it came across to me , the thought of its extension in the format seen finally gave incentive to bring in greater value to it .. so I thought, I worked , I reacted, I shared , I got approval and then went to each of those stratospheric stars and celebrities with the idea .. calling them several times .. connecting them all .. all over the World all over the places they lived .. and then their agree .. the designing of the Demo by Prasoon .. the passing it on to the respective and in explanation , each one , each location .. convincing them .. and then the wait for their portion to arrive and putting it together .. the creatives all being followed up by the team .. each little protocol to be put in place .. diplomatically .. politically .. egoistically .. to be CORRECT and accepted .. yes .. all .. all done in this wonder world of internet wires and the mobility of the hand phone .. the modern day invention par excellence .. oh , done and covered with suitable time difference delays .. some within the time zone some not .. some really really far away .. but their love and support impeccable .. 

That done the negotiate with what to be done with it .. in times of trial it does not bode well to be seen in frivolous acts .. so consider who we are , how we are , and what we are .. and who they that make us who we are .. the workers and their plight in this locked out premise .. without a daily earning , without their normal existence , without the essentials .. 

We must give back to them .. so .. worked on sponsors TV outlets , personal contribution and arrived successfully .. TV shall be Sony .. sponsor shall be Kalyan Jewellers .. and the distribution shall be pan India , pan workers of all the Industries of film in the nation .. NSEW .. and which is why NSEW in the representation of the artists .. Hindi, Marathi, Malayalam, Kannad, Tamil, Telugu, Bengali, Punjabi .. pan India in representation .. pan India in language .. pan India in the work force .. just a pan India film .. a film titled ‘FAMILY’ .. for we are one and we are one family .. this film Industry of the country .. !!

NOW .. then .. as the tech readiness readies itself .. the promotion .. 

Promotion promotion .. back to the net and the con calls with concerned and with the GANG GANG .. gang gang .. the title given by the girls in house .. Navya Naveli and Shweta .. who find it amusing our confabulations on these con calls, hence an amusing title .. its accepted .. SO .. yes promo .. the written from the obvious sources ‘reeks of garlic from every pore’  .. it stinks .. and then a suggestion ans endeavour to do it by the self .. done and agreed upon after con calls and net issues with the masters .. no disrespect .. but yaa , it not happening people .. ok .. so do it yourself , fine .. sitting and designing it in the mind and WHAM ! .. got it .. now to shoot it in these conditions .. so Abhishek come on assist me with the camera work .. out in the back yard .. a quick shoot .. and a quick forwarding in sense first to all the concerned and then approval of it to be given final tech touches .. done .. 

So then put it out .. time running ot .. get the tech right .. net mobile and every other communication in use .. and done and out on the required platforms ..

BUT .. within all this, setting up the personal shoot of the film continues with able help again from the children .. re takes and re shoots .. and delivered to the tech team .. they work .. the ideas continue to improve or adjust or remove .. some have come in time others delayed , time running out again the 9Pm slot has been advertised .. 

FINALLY .. on air .. 

BUT .. and there are so many buts .. other works continue .. domestic pre cautionary checks on sanitation and sanitising .. staff reduced , staff homed within, staff looked after in excess .. 

.. and also the monitoring of the personal feeding that continues in various parts of the city .. 2000 packets of food each day .. lunch and dinner .. for the poor and needy .. and the bigger 3000 bags of essentials delivered to take care of 3000 families provisions for a month .. average of 4 per family works to the reach of approx 14,000 .. 

Working then for the FAMILY out reach and devising methodology of the distribution to the mentioned workers .. the data access with the Head of the Employees Nation wide Association .. retailer sought and fixed .. gift coupons and cash to be given out to the approx 100,000 of them, with the sponsor and personal fund collected .. to last them for month .. 

THEN .. back to the desk .. there is urgent need from the Capital on a campaign design and completion within urgent needs .. lat night getting that done .. 

AND .. also in simultaneous work on the poem of hope from Babu ji .. rendering it here .. con calls with recordist there .. music directors in another there .. they be two in respective homes and no studio set ups .. but the ingenious working force and minds successful .. it is after 72 attempts that it looks like going on platforms .. perhaps to day .. perhaps .. apprehensive for that too .. how what where and when .. ahhhh .. just let it be say the girls in the house .. the main girl stuck away from home in Delhi .. attending Parliament when the shut happened .. so she remain where she is .. and Face Time WhatsApp .. ZINDABAD !!

OH dear forgot .. another request for the voice rendition on the conditions we are in .. at it till 4 am .. and now from 6  .. rendered in rough waiting approval .. damn the files have not gone through .. WeTransfer warns .. damnnn .. 

Ok shall try resize and getting the email ID correct .. .. ahhahahahhhgggrr ..

this post is sounding like a brain damaged ‘haemoglobin of the country of the system’ devoured and entirely consumed by the chemical ChSo2 .. sorry that be a College insensitive linguaexpletiva .. !!!! Pardoń .. is the French right .. eh .. who cares .. 

BUT .. I tell you .. in all this mesmerising work schedule .. the imagery of Babuji his words his thoughts his books his voice keep me company in excess .. they bring the water in the eyes .. 

I must leave now .. cannot allow it to drip on the post pages ..

Amitabh Bachchan

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Run, Belle, Run

Summary: Rushbelle. After her boyfriend is hospitalised, Belle will move mountains to get to him and tell him the words she needs him to hear.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “I love you more than learning itself.”

CW: violence mention

Rated: T

=====

Run, Belle, Run

Belle French was not ordinarily in the habit of running anywhere. Between her love for high heeled shoes and her remarkable penchant for daydreaming given the slightest provocation, she tended to make her way from A to B at her own leisurely pace.

That was not the case today, however. Belle was running hell for leather down the sidewalk towards the ER’s pedestrian entrance and absolutely nothing was going to get in her way. It was rush hour and people were thronging up and down the streets, but as soon as they saw her speed, general direction, and the look of sheer determination on her face, coupled with her purse wildly flailing from her shoulder and the stilettos she was brandishing like weapons, bare feet pounding the pavement, they moved aside to let her through.

The traffic was so bad that the taxi had dropped her at the previous block, but Belle couldn’t feel her heart racing or the blood pounding in her ears. All her attention was focused on the hospital, or more importantly, the man currently somewhere inside it.

When she’d received the call, she hadn’t been able to take it all in at first. She didn’t know why the police would be contacting her about anything, and once she realised fully what had happened, it still took the sergeant on the other end of the line another five minutes of explaining before she finally believed him.

Nicholas was supposed to meet her for lunch, and he hadn’t shown. It wasn’t the first time he’d been late; he was never the most reliable of dates once he got his head stuck in one of his equations. Still, it was a special occasion and Belle had been rather put out by his failure to respond to any of her calls or texts asking where the hell he was. Finally, after an embarrassing hour of sitting alone in a restaurant, she’d snapped, leaving him one final vitriol-filled message that if he continued to show her such little respect and basic decency then their relationship was on rocky ground. She’d gone home to a bottle of Chardonnay and a tub of raspberry ripple. She hadn’t even bothered taking her shoes off before she got stuck in. Maybe if she had done, she wouldn’t be running down the street with suede stilettos in her hands.

It was only once she’d got the fateful call that she’d realised the horrible reason for his absence, and now she felt sick with guilt and an excess of ice-cream.

There’s been an incident, they’d said. You’re listed as Mr Rush’s emergency contact.

Doctor, she’d corrected them on autopilot, because she knew that Nicholas would never let anyone get away with missing out his PhD. She hadn’t known that she was his emergency contact. When had that happened?

He’s been mugged, beaten badly.

It had taken such a long time for it to sink in, and now as she ran, Belle cursed herself for having sat there in dumb shocked silence for so long when she could have been using those precious minutes to get to him. God, she couldn’t lose him; she’d lost too much already. He was infuriating and annoying and he made her want to scream sometimes, but he was hers and she loved him so much she felt like she might shatter into dust if anything were to happen to him. To think, she’d been yelling at his answerphone whilst he’d been lying helpless and bleeding in the street. She’d never forgive herself.

Her entrance into the waiting room was just as dramatic as her run down the street had been. She must have looked a sight, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except Nicholas.

“Can I help you?” The woman on the reception desk sounded startled; from the speed with which she had flown into the department, Belle thought that any observer could be forgiven for believing she needed urgent medical attention herself.

“I’m looking for Nicholas Rush. I got a call to say that he was brought here after an assault.”

The receptionist tapped away on her computer as Belle leaned on the counter to get her breath back, ignoring the looks from the other people in the waiting room.

“I’ll let them know when you’re here, and someone will fetch you when they’re ready for you to see him. Take a seat in the waiting area, please.”

“Is he ok? Is there anything else that you can tell me? Is he conscious? Is he going to be all right? The police said that there was a knife…”

“I don’t have that information, Miss French, I’m sorry.” The receptionist’s tone was compassionate but firm. “Please have a seat. The doctors and nurses will fill you in as soon as they can.”

Belle nodded and made her way over to a seat in the corner of the waiting room. Now that she’d stopped running and the shot of adrenaline was beginning to wear off, her legs felt like jelly. She rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

Nicholas had to be ok. There was no other alternative. He was too stubborn to be anything other than ok. He felt he still had so much to prove to the world. Maybe that was what had first drawn her to him, way back when: his fire and his determination to prove something. She wasn’t sure if she even fully understood what he was trying to prove, other than his worth to the academic elite who looked down on his humble roots.

They’d first met in class. Belle had decided to enrol in a few courses on the side to keep her busy alongside her job in the university library, and astrophysics had seemed like a good idea at that time. She’d asked a question during the lecture, which had turned into an argument that had completely derailed the lesson and continued into the coffee shop afterwards. It had set the pattern for most of their relationship. Belle loved to learn, and Nicholas loved to argue, and they had got on like a house on fire. Of course, some of the arguments were not of a mathematical or astrophysical nature, and, given the headstrong attitudes that they were both inclined to, they’d certainly seen some ups and downs, but Belle wouldn’t trade them for the world.  It was only now that she was faced with the prospect of losing him that she fully understood the depth of her feelings.

She loved him. It was as plain and simple as that. No frills or embellishments, no eureka moments or fireworks. It had happened so easily and naturally that she had barely noticed it happening.

And now it might all be too late.

Belle pushed that pessimistic thought firmly away and tried not to focus on the what-ifs, looking instead at her grimy feet. She wrinkled her nose and grabbed some tissues and hand sanitiser from the reception desk to clean herself up with before she put her shoes back on, and she settled down to wait, reciting the periodic table to try and distract her from thinking about, well, about anything really. They seemed to be taking a very long time to come and get her. Was that a good sign or a bad one?

“Miss French?”

Belle got up and followed the nurse out of the waiting room in something akin to a trance. As they walked, she listened to the explanation of Nicholas’s injuries and the treatment that he’d received, only half taking it all in. He was going to be ok. That was all she needed to hear.

“I’ll leave you two alone. Just call if you need anything.”

He looked a complete state, but he was awake and alive and here, even if he was bruised and battered and bleeding. He smiled when she saw her, half a smile with the side of his face that wasn’t swollen.

“Hey.”

Belle couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat. She just rushed over to the bedside and kissed his forehead.

“Oh Nicholas. Oh God, I thought I’d lost you.”

“Yeah. I thought I’d lost me too.”

Belle sank down into the chair beside the bed, taking his hand in both of hers. She looked at the dressing wrapped around his upper arm.

“Is that where…”

He nodded, then grimaced and stopped moving his head.

“Yes. Luckily the knife didn’t go too deep; it missed everything major.”

Silence fell in their little cubicle, the sounds of the rest of the hospital still loud around them, but an oasis of calm just for them. Now that she was here with Nicholas and she could see that he was going to be ok, Belle allowed herself to start thinking again.

“You have me down as your emergency contact,” she said eventually.

“I do.” Even though his gaze was bleary from injury and pain relief, Belle could see the earnestness in it. “I can’t think of anyone that I would rather have by my side through something like this than you.”

Belle kissed his palm. “You’re a softie at heart, you know.”

“Never.” Nonetheless, he squeezed her fingers in gratitude for her presence.

It was time to say it. She had to say it now.

“I love you, Nicholas. I love you more than learning itself.”

Considering that one of the first things she had ever said to him was that she loved learning more than anything else in the world, she didn’t know how else to express the enormity of her feelings towards him.

“A high accolade indeed.”

Tears pricked her eyelids at this remark. She hadn’t cried since she’d received the news, but now all the emotion came out in a flood.

“I’m being serious, Nicholas! Do you know how I felt when I got that call? I was terrified of losing you! I thought I might never have the chance to tell you I loved you! Don’t be flippant with me, because this is too important to me for you to turn this into another battle.”

She buried her face in the bedsheets, and after a few moments, she felt Nicholas bring her hand up to his lips and peck a kiss to her knuckles.

“I’m sorry. I’d say blame the morphine but we both know I’m just as much of an arse when I’m not high as a kite.” He paused. “Belle… After it happened, all I could think about was you. I was in so much pain and there was so much blood everywhere, but you were the only thing on my mind. I just wanted to see you.”

Belle lifted her head and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

“I love you too,” Nicholas whispered. “It took me getting beaten up to realise something that I should have worked out ages ago, but I love you too, Belle.”

It was hardly the most romantic place for such confessions, but they’d never bowed to convention before. Belle learned in and kissed the good side of his mouth. There wasn’t anything else to say. There didn’t need to be anything else. They were together, and they were in love, and Nicholas was going to be all right. That was all they needed. They would learn everything else in time along the way.

[justforbooks]

Towards the beginning of The Golden House, there’s a soireè scene, where the eldest of the three Golden sons, the loquacious Petya, offers a brilliant display for the guests. The narrator recounts:

“That night he talked and drank without stopping, and all of us who were there would carry fragments of that talk in our memories for the rest of our lives. What crazy, extraordinary talk it was! No limit to the subjects he reached for and used as punching bags.” 

Those subjects range from the collapse of foreign currencies to the sex lives of British royals, from the lyrics of Bob Dylan to the flaws in Stephen Hawking’s theory of black holes. Petya, “glittering-eyed and babbling like a brook,” flies from topic to topic, drawing spontaneously on his vast reservoir of knowledge, “like a whole cable box full of talk-show networks that jumped channels frequently.”

Veteran readers of Salman Rushdie will recognise this tendency from the author’s body of work. Like Petya, Rushdie is a polymath. His books – and his lectures -– overflow with myriad allusions, digressions, and stories within stories, sweeping through eras, continents, and cultures. However, unlike Petya, who suffers from a crucial “flaw in the program,” Rushdie is the master storyteller in his latest book, never losing control over what is, ultimately, a suspenseful thriller.

Return to realism

In The Golden House, Rushdie abandons the fantastical elements of much of his previous fiction, choosing realism over the magical realism for which he has become renowned. His return to realism may not be all that surprising in a novel that examines life in the United States in recent years. Actual events in America have proven to be so bizarre that the need to invent fabulous ones may have been eliminated.

In any case, this book is set firmly in the real world – in contemporary Bombay and New York – the city of the author’s birth and the city where he now resides. Its present action coincides with the eight years spanning Barack Obama’s Presidential term. As in some of Rushdie’s earlier work, most notably Midnight’s Children, the story of individual characters runs parallel to that of a nation caught in the throes of transformation.

The novel’s immediate setting is the Gardens, a grassy quadrangle in the heart of Manhattan that forms “an enchanted, fearless space” for the exclusive community that resides around it. It is in this idyllic space, where fireflies sparkle on summer evenings and children play freely, that our millennial narrator René lives with his liberal, academic, parents. At the beginning of the novel René is “just a young man dreaming of the movies.” He is, in fact, an aspiring filmmaker, in search of a subject.

On the day of Obama’s first inauguration, an event marked by a sense of unbridled optimism across the city, the grand mansion that has lain empty behind the Gardens for years is finally occupied, by a wealthy foreign family who refuse to divulge any information about their previous lives. The family’s imperious patriarch, like many immigrants before him, seeks to reinvent himself in America. He christens himself Nero after the last of the Caesars, and his sons choose their own names – Petronius (Petya), Lucius Apulius (Apu), and Dionysius (D). The mansion itself is renamed The Golden House.

Nero Golden shares many characteristics with another American literary hero – a mysterious past, unexplained wealth, decadent parties, a mythic property. Like Jay Gatsby’s guests, Nero’s new acquaintances try to fill the gaps in his narrative by spinning tales about him. René, who fancies himself as a modern-day Nick Carraway, makes several references to Fitzgerald’s novel. But unlike Gatsby, Nero is not alone.

The golden sons

In a sense, this is a story of fathers and sons. Each of Nero Golden’s sons is idiosyncratic and distinctive. Petya, afflicted by high-functioning autism, is an incredibly intelligent and erudite but socially awkward man who spends much of his time inside his bedroom bathed in the blue light of computer screens. When he is not expounding on the many subjects that crowd his brain, he immerses himself in the virtual world of gaming. Petya’s manic conversations conceal a deep and endless suffering.

The second son, Apu, is the artist in the family. Romantic and political, Apu becomes a successful painter and dabbles in activism before growing disillusioned with what he regards as liberal posturing and ineffectualness. He has a way with women, which places him and Petya firmly on the warpath.

The youngest son, the beautiful, androgynous D, is forever the outsider. Born of Nero’s extramarital liaison with “a woman of no consequence” 18 years after Apu, D has never felt like he really belongs in this family. Tormented by his illegitimacy and plagued by questions about his sexuality, D is the first to leave the Golden House and find refuge elsewhere – in Chinatown – outside the cloistered precincts of the Gardens. There is something deeply tragic about each of the sons. Their vulnerability shines through at key moments. These are the most moving sections in the novel.

Compared to the men, the women seem less vulnerable. From a relatively minor character such as the exotic Somali sculptor Ubah Tuur to the “astonishing” Vasilisa who presides over the novel, their physical perfection and power over men make them both magnificent and slightly removed from the reader. Even when they suffer – and they do suffer, often because of actions taken by the men – we rarely get inside their souls in quite the same way as we do with the men. At one point René makes a telling statement when he says, “‘The art of the cinema,’ Truffaut allegedly said, ‘is to point the camera at a beautiful woman.’” It is perhaps fitting then that our narrator is a filmmaker.

Watching from the window

However, this does not mean that the women are not interesting or indeed fascinating. And no one is more so than the one whose machinations change the destiny of the Goldens: the Russian émigré Vasilisa. At once goddess and witch, Vasilisa is seductive, manipulative, and ruthless. It is her all-encompassing ambition of living a life “worthy of her beauty” that propels the plot forward. In a book about immigrants, Vasilisa embodies the immigrant desire to start over. “The past,” she says, “is a broken cardboard suitcase full of photographs of things I no longer wish to see.” Contradicting forces for good and evil literally struggle within her soul. Again, this seems more mythic than human, but whether or not she will ultimately prove to be one or the other is one of the many mysteries the narrator will have to uncover.

The auteur-narrator makes numerous references to movies throughout, and the influence of cinema, both on him and on the novel, is unmistakable. Like Jeff in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window, René watches the Goldens – and other neighbors – from his home, overhearing noises and catching glimpses of scenes that hint at secrets and scandals. He soon discovers that the place the Goldens have fled is none other than Bombay. His research – and imagination – reveal that they left behind a city infested with corruption and crime, a world of underworld violence and international terrorism. “The worlds are less different than we pretend,” Nero tells him.

Initially, René is only a witness, but soon he finds himself becoming a participant and getting further and further entangled in the events. Poet, philosopher, and chronicler, René serves as the conscience of the book. And while he is flawed and complicit in the events that unfold, he says, “Allow me this at least: that I am self aware.” That he is, and it makes him the most endearing character of all.

Truth and lies

Even though this is not a work of magical realism, the distinction between lies and truth is often blurred. The Goldens of course tell “stories about themselves, stories in which essential information about origins was either omitted or falsified.” The characters frequently betray each other. The structure of the book further contributes to the blending of lies and truth, as René begins to invent scenes for his film in progress. Several sections are written as script, with scenes dissolving or ending with the director’s cut, and the camera zooming in and out. Some include voiceovers and other stylised effects. At times it’s difficult to say what really takes place and what is invented by René. If you don’t know the truth, fellow filmmaker Suchitra tells him, use your imagination.

Meanwhile, even as truth and lies begin to collide inside the Gardens, outside it, in the wider world of America, the greatest betrayal of all begins to take shape. The world readies itself for the 45th US presidential elections between two unlikely contenders. On the one hand there is Batwoman, “who owned her dark side, but used it to fight for good, justice, and the American way.” On the other is the Joker – a green-haired, white-faced, red-lipped, real estate tycoon who is “utterly and certifiably insane.”

Rushdie uses rants by minor characters on the streets of Manhattan, as well as observations by our protagonists, to explore the growing “discontent of a furiously divided country.” It is tempting to find the author’s own well-known views on certain topics in the characters, for instance, when Apu chastises “wishy washy” liberals for attempting to sanitise language due to political correctness, or when René defends his suspicion of organised religion. While much of this author’s prior work has dealt with political events, this book’s preoccupation with many of the burning issues of the day makes it particularly urgent and relevant.

The personal and the political

Of all those issues, the question of gender identity is especially prominent. The Museum of Identity where Riya works represents the quest for identity in general, but for D, this quest is very personal. “Come inside and learn about the new world,” Riya tells him. What follows is an education, mostly about transitioning and “gender identity, splitting as never before in human history, spawning whole new vocabularies that tried to grasp the new mutabilities.” Some of their dialogue on this subject sounds didactic, like an introductory lecture on the transgender community for a beginner, which of course is what D is. Nevertheless, the effect of this new education on him is profound and real and will eventually lead to the most poetic, moving section in the book.

Rushdie’s prose is as always both dazzling and dizzying. Replete with clever wordplay and digressions, it includes allusions to Shakespeare, Greek tragedy, the ancient Chinese hexagrams of divination, the 1956 chess Game of the Century between Bobby Fischer and Donald Byrne, video games, superheroes, and Seinfeld, to name only a small fraction. References to current affairs range from Planned Parenthood and the Occupy Wall Street movement in the United States to the telecommunications scam and the 2008 terror attack against Bombay’s Taj Mahal Hotel in India.

People often appear and disappear within a few lines, but are given their own histories and eccentricities. They are, in René’s words, “minor characters who might not make it past the cutting room floor.” These people, like some of their dialogues and many of the allusions, might at times seem a tad gratuitous. The long, packed, meandering sentences can feel overwhelming. But, then, so is New York. Together, the obviously significant and the apparently insignificant help create the teeming, chaotic world of the city to which the book is a tribute of sorts.

The novel can be read as a chronicle of America in recent years, leading up to the present, troubled, Presidency. But that is only a part of it. At the heart lies a page-turner that is the stuff of blockbusters. There’s something breathtaking about the combination of contemporary events that we have all witnessed and are part of even now, and the gripping story of crime and passion, all narrated in such baroque prose.

Much suspense is created through René’s laments as he recollects events of the past eight years. Statements such as “it concerned all of us less than it should have,” and “I should have known there would be trouble,” suggest impending doom. Always, looming over us is the premonition of tragedy. “What would it mean,” René ponders, “if the Joker became the King?” The innocence, of both the Gardens and of Obama’s inauguration in 2009, cannot be sustained. This is the tale of a dysfunctional family within a dysfunctional nation, both hurtling toward disaster. At times it may be horrifying to watch, but it is impossible to look away.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[a-splash-of-stucky]

Interrupted [2/3]

Pairings: Bucky x Steve || Bucky x Steve x Reader

Summary: You fall asleep during a movie night with the boys. They discover your little secret.

Warnings: Oral sex (f/r and m/r), mildly dom!Steve, sex dreams, mentions of masturbation, threesome

Notes: Yeah, so this was written a long while back and has just been sitting in my drafts folder ever since. Forgive me if the smut is shit. 

[1] [2] [3] || My Masterlist || gif source

Nearly a week has passed since you accidentally walked in on Steve and Bucky doing unspeakable acts in the bedroom. Well, their living room. The tension between the three of you is palpable — more so with you and Steve, than anything else. He avoids you wherever possible, trying his damn hardest not to make eye contact or exchange more than a few terse sentences.

You’re not offended. Steve values his dignity, and beyond that, his privacy; his reaction is what you expected it to be. Though he’s not talking to you, Bucky has assured you that Steve���s not mad, he just needs time to buildup his self-confidence again. The Cap’ll come around, at some point.

Bucky, on the other hand, is a different story. Now that you’ve seen him fully in the nude, he seems to have even more of a throwaway attitude when it comes to his body, sparring without his shirt when he’s in the gym with you, or wearing jeans that leave little to the imagination. Every now and then, he’ll flash you a knowing, cocky wink that leaves you all kinds of hot and bothered.

Truth be told, you’re hot and bothered around him — and Steve — most of the time, anyways. Since that fateful day, you’ve hardly been able to get thoughts of them out of your head — the sinful kind, especially.

It’s not like they’re not complicit in that issue, what with Steve walking around the compound in his nipple-baring, too-tight shirts, and Bucky lounging about in sweats that make it blatantly clear that he has forgone his boxers. You find yourself checking them out more, eyes straying father south than is perhaps appropriate, lingering on the bulge in their pants for a beat too long.

And nearly every night, you find yourself sprawled out in bed, one hand buried between your legs, hips grinding onto your fingers as various fantasies of you, Steve and Bucky play out in your mind.

———————

Steve corners you just as you come out of the lift.

“Y/N,” he starts, shoving both hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocking back and forth on his feet.

“‘’Sup, Steve?” you ask, leaning casually against the wall.

“I—look, things have been…kinda awkward, between us,” Steve says, running a hand through his blonde hair. “We—Bucky and I were wondering if you’d like to come over and watch a movie. Y’know, like we always do. To—to clear things up,”.

“I’d love to, Steve,”, you reply, a slow smile creeping over your lips.

He grins, bright and happy, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight. “Great! Tonight? Our room?”

You snort. “As long as you promise to sanitise the couch,”.

Steve’s jaw drops open, eyes bulging out of his head and cheeks turning an alarming shade of pink. “Y/N—I—we wouldn’t—,” he sputters, aghast.

You burst out laughing, catching yourself on his shoulders as your entire body shakes. “I’m only joking, Steve,” you wheeze, “Oh my god, your face,”.

“You’ll pay for that,” he grumbles, roughly shrugging off your hands. “So. Tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. See ya,”.

You watch him walk away with a slight spring in his step, clearly relieved to have resolved some of the lingering uneasiness between you.

———————

“You made popcorn, right?” you ask, collapsing lengthways onto Steve and Bucky’s couch with a quiet oomph, savouring the feel of sinking into marshmallow-soft cushions.

Bucky snorts indignantly. “What am I, your slave?” he gripes, even as he carries two gigantic bowls brimming with popcorn over — super-soldier metabolism requires triple the standard portion size — and sets them on the coffee table in front you. Bucky lifts your feet up, then sits himself down, draping your legs over his thighs. A freshly showered Steve appears from the bedroom, hair still a little damp. He plops himself by your head and you snuggle up to him, turning onto your side so that Steve can manoeuvre his legs around your body. You settle comfortably between his legs, pillowing your head on his — surprisingly soft — pecs.

As Steve grabs the remote and sets the TV up, your gaze flickers to Bucky, who is looking at Steve with an expression of intense longing. Something in your gut twists at the sight, and you mentally chastise yourself for being so clueless. “Oh, sorry—am I cockblocking you? If you guys wanna cuddle—,”.

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Steve reassures you, petting your hair gently, “Bucky and I cuddle all the time. He’s greedy like that,”.

“Yeah, well, Steve’s greedy for—,”

“No!” you cry, sharply poking Bucky in the thigh with your toe. “I do not want to know how that sentence ends,”.

(Actually, you kind of do, but you’re not going to admit that to either of them. They’d never let you live it down.)

Bucky shrugs indifferently. “Suit yourself,”.

“FRIDAY, could you dim the lights?” Steve calls, as the opening credits flicker across the screen.

A comfortable peace settles over the room. You’ve had a long day, so it’s no surprise that within the first ten minutes, your eyelids are already beginning to droop, your body lulled by the steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest and the soothing coolness of Bucky’s metal fingers tracing idle patterns on your calf. You press your cheek into Steve’s chest and allow yourself to drift off, knowing that you’re in safe hands.

———————

“Oh—oh my god, yes, Bucky,” you moan, as he hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you down onto his face. Your thighs are straddling either side of his head, and you resist the urge to clamp them shut, not wanting to suffocate him. His tongue darts out, lapping at your slick folds, drinking up your arousal like a man dying of thirst. You yelp, both hands fisting in the sheets to steady yourself.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky growls, swiping his tongue into your entrance, “Tastes so damn good,”. Bucky flicks his tongue across your clit, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Steve stands in front of you, naked, his blonde hair darkened with sweat, his chest and neck flushed a deep, alluring shade of red. He’s got his large hand wrapped around his thick cock, fist running up and down the length in sure, leisurely strokes; you’re entranced by the motion. Your eyes are torn between staying open to watch him, or fluttering shut under the pleasurable assault of Bucky’s mouth.

“You wanna lick it, Y/N?” Steve asks, voice dark and raspy, just like it was on that day you saw him with Bucky. He walks closer, coming to the edge of the bed, standing until he is fisting his cock just inches from your face. If you crane your neck forward, you can probably capture the head between your lips. You refrain from doing so, though, choosing instead to focus on the entrancing beauty of Steve’s cock in his fist, noting how the head is almost purplish in hue, the slit drooling with pre-come that also coats the back of his knuckles.

Your mouth is salivating at the sight.

Steve cups your chin and tilts your head upwards, forcing you to look at him, just as Bucky sucks your clit between his lips, ripping a low moan from your throat. “You wanna lick it, baby?” Steve asks again, more insistently this time.

You wet your lips and nod your head. “Y-yes, Steve. Please, S-s-steve,” you whisper.

“Good girl,”.

He brings that glorious dick to your mouth, rubbing the sticky head back and forth over your closed lips, coating them in his earthy, musky flavour. Steve’s heady scent fills your nostrils, setting off a flare of arousal in your groin, which is then amplified by Bucky sliding two fingers into your sex. “Open up, babygirl,” Steve rasps, and you do, relaxing your jaw so that Steve can slowly feed you every inch of his cock.

You imagine that the three of you must make quite the pretty — and pornographic — picture, with you on your hands and knees, Bucky’s head between your thighs and Steve’s dick in your mouth. You don’t care how debauched it looks; you’re in heaven, and that’s all that matters.

———————

“Ste-eve,” you moan, butting your head insistently against him.

Steve glances at you. Your eyes are still closed and your face is relaxed with sleep, so his brow furrows in confusion. “Y/N? Are you—what’s up?”

“Fuck me,” you mumble softly, nuzzling into his muscled chest. The words are barely audible, but his hearing is enhanced, so of course he picks it up. Steve’s eyes widen in astonishment, mouth gaping open at what you’ve — knowingly or not — just said. His gaze flicks towards Bucky, whose expression is as equally amused, eyebrows so high up his forehead, they’ve almost disappeared into his hairline. Bucky meets Steve’s eyes and snickers quietly at Steve’s horrified expression.

“You heard that, right?” Steve whispers urgently.

Bucky replies with a firm nod.

“Yessss—mmm Bucky,” you slur, licking your lips and twisting around in your sleep. “Righ’ there, mmm,”.

It’s now Bucky’s turn to be taken aback. Movie entirely forgotten, he shifts his focus to you, roaming his eyes up and down your body. Bucky notes the almost imperceptible squirming of your hips, the slight flush on your cheeks, the way you periodically bite your lip and tip your head back, baring your neck in a most enticing manner. The visual, accompanied by the sounds spilling out of your mouth, leave him with no doubt as to what kind of dream you’re having.

“Unh—yeah, mmm, don’t stop,” you mutter, reaching one hand up to half-heartedly paw at your breast.

Steve chokes on air. “Is she—,”.

“Yup,” Bucky says quickly.

This is not the first time the boys have seen you talking in your sleep. In fact, it happens often enough that they tease you mercilessly about it. This, however, is the first time you’ve had this particular kind of dream with them around.

Steve clears his throat to get Bucky’s attention. “Should we—do we wake her up?” he whispers.

Bucky shakes his head, “No. Let’s see where this goes,”

“Bucky,”.

“Steve,”, Bucky mimics, arching one eyebrow.  

“We can’t do that to her,” Steve says firmly, “It’s not…it’s an invasion of privacy!”

Bucky scoffs. “Need I remind you that she barged in on us?”

“That was an accident!” Steve protests, cheeks flushing hot at the memory.

“Ohhhhh!” you whisper-moan, back arching off the couch a little. The motion has Steve’s gaze snapping back towards you. He’s paranoid that you’re going to wake up suddenly and be horribly embarrassed when you realise what has just transpired — he doesn’t want you to have to experience that.

Bucky sighs, reaching over your body to squeeze Steve’s hand. ���Look, Steve, just let her sleep it out. We’ll have a chat with her when she wakes up,”, he soothes.

It is at this moment that you let out a particularly loud groan, spreading your legs wider as you writhe against Steve’s body. “Yeahhh,” you sigh, “Mmmm…jus—jus’ like that,”. The gentle undulations of your ass against his crotch has Steve biting his lip to hold in a moan of his own. To his abject dismay, he finds his cock responding to your movements, fattening up in his sweats.

If you were to awaken now, he’d be in a highly compromising position. Steve shoots a pleading look in Bucky’s direction.

“Aw, baby, is she getting you worked up?” Bucky teases, mouth quirking into a smug, lopsided grin.

Steve rolls his eyes impatiently. “Yes,” he huffs. “Please can we wake her up?”

“No,” Bucky repeats, “We’ll have a talk with her when she wakes up, and when it’s over, whatever the outcome is, I’lll dick you so hard you’ll forget your name,”.

Steve narrows his eyes and grinds his teeth, considering the offer and wondering if he should put up more of a fight. In the end, he sighs resignedly and slouches further into the couch, trying to move his rapidly swelling dick away from your ass. “Fine,” Steve huffs, “I’m holding you to that,”.

“Yes, baby!” you moan, hand blindly reaching out to grab something, which just happens to be Steve’s thigh.

Bucky chuckles at Steve’s long-suffering sigh. “And here I was, thinkin’ we could have a nice, uneventful movie night,” Steve grouses, like the century-old man he is.  

———————

When you come awake, your brain is groggy, the last vestiges of the all-too-realistic dream still clinging to your mind. You turn your face towards the TV, noting how the movie is almost at its end, the bright lights casting flickering shadows on the walls. You breathe deeply, and immediately regret the action because you inhale a lungful of Steve’s clean, crisp scent, which only serves to fuel the fire between your thighs.

You sigh internally. That dream has got you more worked up than you’ve been in a while. You need to make your escape soon, to ‘relieve’ yourself. Of all the times to have a dream like that, of course it had to happen when you’re sandwiched between Steve and Bucky.

Thinking about being sandwiched between two super-soldiers does not help your situation.

Bucky’s gaze falls on you and, he smiles, noticing that you’re awake. “Hey, there, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, “Missed the whole movie,”.

You hum sleepily in response, scrubbing the back of one hand over your eyes.

In a flash, Bucky has crawled over you, caging you in with his forearms, a wolfish grin on his lips. You move to back away, but there’s no where for you to go, trapped as you are between Steve’s legs and chest. You let out an undignified squeak.

“B-bucky?” you stutter, “What’re you…doing?”

“Had a nice dream, doll?”

You swallow, a sinking feeling settling low in your stomach because you have a feeling you know where this conversation is going. “Uh-huh,” you squeak.

“What was it about?” he asks innocently, eyes still trained on your face.

“N-nothing,”.

“Nothing, eh?” Bucky echoes, cocking his head to the side. He looks up at Steve, above you, “Did it look like nothin’ to you, Stevie?”

“It did not,” Steve replies, chest rumbling with the low baritone of his voice.

You groan, throwing your hands over your eyes because you can’t bear to look at Bucky whilst you say this. “Fine,” you grit out, “I was having a sex dream, okay? Forget about it,”.

“And…who was this sex dream, about, Y/N?” Bucky asks. Your body stiffens, so Steve rubs his large palm up and down your upper arm to soothe you.

“Did—did I sleep talk?” you ask quietly, peeking at Bucky from between your fingers. At his nod, you sigh frustratedly, feeling the hot, mortifying blush spread over your cheeks and down your neck. “I can’t believe this,”, you mutter.

“D’you wanna talk about it, sweetie?” Steve asks, tone concerned and tender, holding no note of playfulness in it whatsoever. You’re glad you can’t see his expression, because you don’t think your heart can cope with much more than this; you’re pretty much a nervous wreck.

You keep the heel of your palms pressed to your eyes as you speak. “Ever since—the incident that shall not be named…I…I’ve been thinking about you. Two. Together. Sometimes with me. And…yeah. It’s—I’ve—,”.

“You’ve been touchin’ yourself to it?” Bucky asks, voice low and husky, sending arousal pooling in your gut.

“Bucky,” Steve chides exasperatedly.

“No, it’s okay, Steve. Yes, Bucky. I have,”, you admit.

Steve sucks in a breath behind you, and Bucky whistles through his teeth. “That’s hot, doll,”. Bucky breathes.

You pry your fingers off your eyes and look at him hesitantly. “You’re not mad?” you ask shyly.

“Mad?” Steve echoes, “Why would we be mad?”

“Truth is,” Bucky drawls, settling himself between your thighs, “We’ve…got a thing for you too, doll,”.

“What?” you gasp, sitting bolt upright, stunned.

Steve wraps his hand around your upper arm, pulling you back to his chest. “S’alright, sweetie, it’s just—we care for you, and you happen to be…uh…blessed on the looks side of things—,”

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky interjects, rolling his eyes at Steve’s roundabout way of saying things.

“—right, and we’re…if you’d like to…that is—we’d like to..um..heh, sleep with you,”, Steve finishes.

“As in…me? A threesome with me and you two?” you say slowly, gesturing between the three of you and looking to Bucky for confirmation.

Bucky nods. “Steve’s kinda inexperienced when it comes to the female anatomy. You wanna help him out with that?”

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, body flushing hot at the thought of being able to live out the fantasies that have haunted your every hour. “Taking Captain America’s virginity would—,”.

“I am not a virgin,” Steve interrupts, vexation apparent in his tone.

“You kind of are,” Bucky points out, “Virgin when it comes to the ladies,”.

“You act like one, that’s for sure,” you add, giggling when Steve half-heartedly punches your shoulder.

“So yeah?” Bucky asks, looking at you with hope glimmering in his eyes. “Let’s do it?”

“Wait, wha—now?”

He snorts, rolling off the couch to stand over you both, hands on his hips. “What, you busy? Shall I have FRIDAY clear some time in your schedule next week?”

“Jeez, okay, okay,” you huff, lust flaring deep within your core as the reality of the situation sinks in. You turn around to look at Steve, who’s biting his lip and looking at you with a mixture of adoration and desire in his eyes. “You okay with this?” you ask him.

“I’m game if you’re game,” Steve replies, “Don’t want you to feel obligated,”.

“Do you want this?”

Steve nods confidently.

“Do you want this, Bucky?” you ask, turning to the other man.

“Hell yes,” he growls, “You’re a pretty lil’ thing, Y/N, I wanna see what you got under there,”.

“And I want this too,” you say, clapping your hands together resolutely. “Great, consent sorted out, let’s move onto the fun stuff,”.

------------------------- Tags are open, but I’m only accepting requests via asks or PMs

[handsanitisers]

Face coverings compulsory on public transport

Face coverings are now compulsory on public transport as Scotland continues to ease its way out of lockdown.

Children under five and people with certain medical conditions are exempt from the new rule which comes into force on Monday.

It covers buses, trains, the Glasgow Subway, Edinburgh trams, aircraft, enclosed areas onboard ferries, taxis and private hire cabs.

The Scottish government is also urging people to continue to limit travel.

Last week, First Minister Nicola Sturgeon said face coverings "can help to reduce the risk of transmission" but stressed that physical distancing, hand washing and "good hygiene" were still necessary to prevent infection.

'Collective responsibility'

Further changes now coming into effect include dental practices being able to see patients with urgent care needs.

Places of worship will also reopen for individual prayer and professional sport can also resume behind closed doors.

In addition, the construction industry will be able to move to the next phase of its restart plan.

But it will be another week before some shops can reopen while the tourism and hospitality sector will need to wait until 15 July to resume trading for the first time in almost four months.

As the transport changes take effect, ScotRail confirmed that masks would be available at 18 of its busiest stations for a limited period.

David Simpson, operations director, said: "The position on face coverings is now absolutely clear and we are urging customers to take collective responsibility and follow the Scottish government rules on their mandatory use.

"But Scotland's Railway can't guarantee physical distancing at all stages of a customer's journey.

"The message remains the same as it has been since the start of the pandemic: only travel if your journey is essential."

Disposable Face Mask - Transport Secretary Michael Matheson appealed to people to leave space on buses and trains for the elderly and needy.

He also urged employers to carefully manage their phased returning of staff to work, with figures suggesting that up to 55% of employees could travel to their normal workplace in phase two, which started on 18 June.

When Scotland was in full lockdown, the figure was just 30%.

'Great caution'

This could also result in an increase in the number of passengers on public transport by about a third from the current levels of an estimated 225,000 per day.

Mr Matheson said: "We are now in a position to enter phase two of the route map, however we must do so with great caution, as we cannot risk a resurgence of the virus and wasting all of the good work to date in terms of respecting boundaries and working from home.

"Transport has a vital role to play in helping restart the economy, but there is a clear and great need for personal and collective responsibility when travelling, especially by public transport.

"It's also very important to leave space on public transport for those who need it most."

His remarks come after announcing a further £46.7m of funding available to bus operators on Friday.

It will cover any loss of fare-paying passenger revenue anticipated because of the physical distancing measures and reduced capacity on vehicles, which is estimated to be about 10 to 20% of normal.

'Embrace changes'

Mr Matheson added that there would be circumstances when the two-metre rule was breached, even temporarily.

He added: "That is why all passengers have to wear a face covering.

"I continue to engage directly with business leaders and major employers and I am encouraging them to embrace these changes which can help us all adapt to a new working and business environment.

"We are increasing the frequency of public transport, but without a significant reduction in demand, the plan won't work."

Meanwhile, the dental development is only for treatments which do not create aerosol particles, which is what happens when dental drills are used.

Scotland's chief dental officer Tom Ferris said: "Dental practices will be able to see NHS patients who are in need of urgent care for face-to-face consultation, using procedures which limit the risk of spread of using coronavirus such as non-aerosol-generating procedures.

"This will mean up to an additional 10,000 appointment slots available per day across Scotland."

Latest figures published by the Scottish government reveal that 18,156 people have tested positive for Covid-19.

We are one of the UK’s leading suppliers of consumables and manufacturer of Pharmaceutical goods. We supply disposable surgical face masks with and Full range of Hand Sanitisers. We stock all type of PPE including disposable aprons and disposable hand gloves.