#it’s thin & cool like exercise material

[lesless]

I’ve decided I’m gonna get real artsy again, minus the pretension I used to carry around. Gonna use that to carry my desire to dress fun bc I’ve been feeling a bit self conscious wearing what I want to out n about. Which is silly.

[takeyourcyanide]

Canaries Found Dead In A Coal Mine; 4 Dead, 6 Injured

Ao3

Characters: franken stein, spirit albarn

Fandom: soul eater

Word count: 776

Tags: sickfic, sick character, nausea, age regression/de-aging, (towards the end), comfort no hurt, acts of kindness, madness, no plot/plotless, fluff, eventual fluff

Summary: Spirit follows a sick Stein home and takes care of him.

Notes: I likely could’ve done more with this but it would just be the usual care I’ve written such before so

Stein had managed to make it through the workday, albeit with a few questioning glances and comments pertaining to his sickly pallor from both students and staff alike. He’d managed to make it through, even despite how his head throbbed in tune with the pulsating of his heart. He’d managed to make it through, even despite the crushing weight of a hydraulic press on each of his aching joints.

He’d managed to make it an entire eight hours, and yet he was practically collapsing on the ten minute walk back home.

The typically pleasant aroma emanating from a nearby bakery was little more than nauseating, the refulgence of the clear, summer day painful and overstimulating. Not to mention the bustling and cacophonous streets.

He ripped his coat off once he finally returned to the clinical comfort of his laboratory, his skin perspiring despite the near-glacial chills he was overrun with.

“Damn,�� he muttered to no one but himself, and perhaps the occasional figure materializing before him. He rushed to the bathroom as the thin layer of bile coating his throat seemed to grow thicker, seemed to rise.

He gripped the toilet bowl with trembling fingers, the cool of the porcelain thieving the heat from the appendages. Around him, everything was whirling and warping - vertigo or madness? Both, perhaps? And, too, was it likely madness when he heard a knocking at his door, the sound of what was ostensibly Spirit yelling for entry.

“I’m coming in!”

Footsteps kissed the floor in unison with the flickering of the buzzing lightbulb hanging in front of the long-shattered mirror. He’d forgotten to replace it, or that was at least what he told everyone. In truth, a sense of fear would overcome him any time he’d think about it. To see what he saw within it would never be for the faint of heart.

“Stein?”

Either it was a resilient hallucination, long-lasting and persistent, or Spirit had followed after him for some odd reason.

“Stein!” It stood in the doorway, leering at him and lurking in the shadows of the corridor. “What are you doing down there? Are you nauseous? You look like shit!”

He sounded impressed.

“Do you have anything you could take-“

“Are you real?” It was the million dollar question. But even if he were not real, he would probably lack the awareness of it, no?

“Uh-“ Caught off guard? “-yeah? Are you good, man?”

Stupid question.

“I don’t feel well.”

“Do-“

“Zofran’s in the cabinet by the fridge.” And just as he turned to move away, Stein prodded, “Why are you even here?”

“You didn’t look so good,” quoth he with a concerned lilt to his voice and visage. “I wanted to make sure you were okay, see if you needed anything… you know.”

“I see,” he mustered a concise response, observing from his peripheral vision the figure leave to presumably grab the medication, quick on his feet.

Without thinking of the sanitary, he rested his cheek against the toilet seat, utilizing all of his energy not to pass out right then and there.

“Okay, I found some cold and flu medicine, too,” he drawled upon his swift return, stepping into the bathroom, though exercising caution. He always approached Stein how he’d approach a timid and aggressive stray. “But I think I’m gonna give you the Zofran first and get you to bed. You look exhausted.”

“I am.”

He kneeled with an offering. “Here. For the Nausea.”

“I know what it’s for.”

“Oh, moody today, are we?” He jested, upbeat and smiley, to which Stein glared.

“I don’t feel good.”

“I know, I know. …Sorry. You think you could sit up for me now?” The voice Spirit was using was conspicuously soft and gentle, like he was speaking to an ill child as opposed to a grown man. …And Stein would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it just a wee bit.

“Why’re you talking like that?” He obeyed, positioning his torso upward, massaging his temples.

“Like what?”

“You’re speaking how you do when..”

“…When?”

“When I’m feeling.. small.”

“Well.. I didn’t figure you’d be feeling particularly… big, you know, given the illness? I want you to relax, that’s all.”

“Quiet time?”

“Yes, Stein. Quiet time. It’s okay if you want that, or feel you may be slipping into it.”

With shaky legs, Stein stood, reaching for Spirit to hold onto for leverage. “Quiet time…”

“Yes,” he nodded, allowing the meister to lean against him. “Quiet time. Are you feeling little?”

“A little,” he nuzzled into the hand in his hair, bringing a few fingers up to his lips.

“Let’s get you to bed, then.”

[dr-lizortecho]

for @gossipqueen2000 it was a whole lot of fun working on this and getting to delve further into these characters! Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy this <3

It’s all too much. Ever since her powers had returned it was like they were heightened, more in tune with the people surrounding her. As if all the years she’d spent learning to block everything out had been unwritten. Like a muscle she had to exercise daily had grown too weak, leaving her an open wound to everyone else’s existences. Their longings, sorrows, and agony consuming her sanity.

Musa’s shoulders are weighed down with it, chest tight, hands shaky as she hides away. The cool damp air eating through the thin material of her windbreaker. There was something about the empty clearing, the stones offering company even while she stayed alone, that settled her. Made her truly calm.

Even if the cold made her fingers numb. It was worth the price to have her mind at ease. For the world around her to settle down. All so she could hear her own thoughts and feel her own emotions. A tear falls unbidden down her face as she bites down hard on her bottom lip, hands clenching into fists. Her nails dig mercilessly into her palms, the feeling almost enough to root her in place.

“I thought I’d find you here,” his voice comes, seeming to ripple across the small space between them.

Musa quickly wipes at the tear tracts on her cheeks with the back of her sleeves, the slick material rustling and scratching at her face. “Are you my stalker now?” She manages to give him a snarky tone.

the poem the title is taken from for those curious:

[indira123]

Preserving Tradition: A Guide to Soapstone Mortar and Pestle Care

Introduction: In the timeless world of culinary tools, the soapstone mortar and pestle care  stand out as a symbol of tradition and functionality. This article serves as a guide to help you preserve the beauty and efficacy of your soapstone mortar and pestle, ensuring they remain reliable companions in your kitchen for years to come.

Understanding the Essence of Soapstone: Before delving into care tips it's essential to understand soapstone's unique properties. This metamorphic rock is known for its smooth, non-porous surface, making it an ideal material for mortar and pestles. Its composition allows it to resist odors and stains, contributing to a pure and authentic culinary experience.

Seasoning for Optimal Performance: Much like cast iron skillets, soapstone mortar, and pestles benefit from seasoning. Grind a handful of rice grains into a fine powder, followed by a thorough rinse. This process removes any residual stone dust, preps the surface, and enhances its grinding efficiency.

Avoiding Acidic Ingredients: Soapstone is sensitive to acidic substances, so it's advisable to avoid grinding acidic ingredients like citrus fruits or vinegar in your mortar and pestle. Acidic elements can compromise the surface and affect the flavor neutrality that soapstone provides.

Gentle Cleaning Techniques: Cleaning your soapstone mortar and pestle care should be a gentle process. Use warm water, mild soap, and a soft brush or cloth to clean the surface. Harsh chemicals or abrasive scrubbers may damage the soapstone and affect its smooth texture.

Patience in Grinding: While soapstone is durable, it's essential to exercise patience when grinding. Avoid excessive force, as soapstone's smooth surface allows for efficient grinding without the need for vigorous effort. Let the natural weight of the pestle do the work.

Drying Thoroughly After Use: After cleaning, ensure your soapstone mortar and pestle are thoroughly dried. Leaving them in a damp state may lead to water absorption, potentially compromising the structure of the stone over time. Air drying is recommended.

Oil Treatment for a Lustrous Finish: Occasionally treating your soapstone mortar and pestle with a food-safe mineral oil or beeswax can help maintain its lustrous finish. Apply a thin layer and let it absorb for a few hours before wiping off any excess. This not only enhances the aesthetic appeal but also protects the stone.

Storage Considerations: Store your soapstone mortar and pestle in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight. Proper storage ensures that it remains in prime condition for extended use.

Respecting the Patina: Over time, soapstone develops a patina—a natural sheen that adds character to the mortar and pestle. Embrace this evolution as part of the stone's journey, reflecting the countless meals and flavors it has helped create.

Regular Inspection for Wear: Periodically inspect your soapstone mortar and pestle care  for any signs of wear, such as cracks or chips. While soapstone is durable, routine checks allow you to address any issues promptly, ensuring the longevity of your culinary companion.

Conclusion:

Caring for your soapstone mortar and pestle is a simple yet significant way to honor tradition in your kitchen. By understanding its unique properties and following these care tips, you not only preserve the functionality of this timeless tool but also create a lasting connection with the culinary heritage it represents. Let your soapstone mortar and pestle continue to be a reliable and cherished part of your culinary journey.

  Call No: + 2146043041  

Website: www.soapstonecookwares.com

[allinonecc]

Relieve Back Pain with the Perfect Mattress Topper: Your Ultimate Guide

Introduction:

Are you tired of waking up with back pain every morning? If so, investing in the right mattress topper could be the solution you've been searching for. A quality mattress topper can provide the support and comfort your back needs for a restful night's sleep. In this guide, we'll explore everything you need to know about choosing the best mattress topper for back pain relief.

Understanding Back Pain:

Back pain can be caused by various factors, including poor posture, muscle strain, injury, or medical conditions like sciatica or arthritis. Regardless of the cause, finding relief is essential for improving your overall well-being and quality of life.

The Role of Mattress Toppers:

A mattress topper is a thin layer of cushioning material that is placed on top of your mattress to enhance its comfort and support. While a mattress topper cannot cure back pain entirely, it can significantly alleviate discomfort by providing additional cushioning and contouring to your body's natural curves.

Key Features to Look For:

Firmness: Opt for a mattress topper with medium to firm support to help maintain proper spinal alignment and prevent sinking, which can exacerbate back pain.

Material: Memory foam and latex are excellent choices for back pain sufferers due to their ability to conform to your body's shape and provide targeted support.

Thickness: Aim for a thickness of at least 2 inches to ensure adequate cushioning and pressure relief, especially if your mattress is too firm.

Breathability: Look for breathable materials like gel-infused foam or ventilated latex to prevent overheating and promote airflow, keeping you cool and comfortable throughout the night.

Top Recommendations:

Memory Foam Mattress Topper: Known for its contouring properties, memory foam molds to your body's shape, relieving pressure points and supporting proper spinal alignment.

Latex Mattress Topper: Natural latex offers excellent support and durability, making it an ideal choice for individuals with back pain who prefer a more responsive sleeping surface.

Gel-Infused Memory Foam Topper: Gel-infused memory foam regulates temperature by dissipating body heat, preventing overheating and ensuring a cool, comfortable sleep environment.

Additional Tips for Back Pain Relief:

Invest in a supportive pillow that aligns your neck with your spine to further alleviate back pain.

Practice good sleep hygiene by maintaining a consistent sleep schedule and creating a relaxing bedtime routine.

Consider incorporating gentle stretching exercises or yoga into your daily routine to improve flexibility and strengthen your back muscles.

Conclusion:

Don't let back pain disrupt your sleep any longer. With the right mattress topper, you can enjoy the comfort and support your back needs for a restorative night's sleep. Remember to prioritize firmness, material, thickness, and breathability when selecting a mattress topper, and incorporate additional strategies for back pain relief into your daily routine for optimal results. Say goodbye to morning aches and pains and hello to a rejuvenated, pain-free you!

Understanding Back Pain:

Back pain can be caused by various factors, including poor posture, muscle strain, injury, or medical conditions like sciatica or arthritis. Regardless of the cause, finding relief is essential for improving your overall well-being and quality of life.

The Role of Mattress Toppers:

A mattress topper is a thin layer of cushioning material that is placed on top of your mattress to enhance its comfort and support. While a mattress topper cannot cure back pain entirely, it can significantly alleviate discomfort by providing additional cushioning and contouring to your body's natural curves.

Key Features to Look For:

Firmness: Opt for a mattress topper with medium to firm support to help maintain proper spinal alignment and prevent sinking, which can exacerbate back pain.

Material: Memory foam and latex are excellent choices for back pain sufferers due to their ability to conform to your body's shape and provide targeted support.

Thickness: Aim for a thickness of at least 2 inches to ensure adequate cushioning and pressure relief, especially if your mattress is too firm.

Breathability: Look for breathable materials like gel-infused foam or ventilated latex to prevent overheating and promote airflow, keeping you cool and comfortable throughout the night.

Top Recommendations:

Memory Foam Mattress Topper: Known for its contouring properties, memory foam molds to your body's shape, relieving pressure points and supporting proper spinal alignment.

Latex Mattress Topper: Natural latex offers excellent support and durability, making it an ideal choice for individuals with back pain who prefer a more responsive sleeping surface.

Gel-Infused Memory Foam Topper: Gel-infused memory foam regulates temperature by dissipating body heat, preventing overheating and ensuring a cool, comfortable sleep environment.

Additional Tips for Back Pain Relief:

Invest in a supportive pillow that aligns your neck with your spine to further alleviate back pain.

Practice good sleep hygiene by maintaining a consistent sleep schedule and creating a relaxing bedtime routine.

Consider incorporating gentle stretching exercises or yoga into your daily routine to improve flexibility and strengthen your back muscles.

Conclusion:

Don't let back pain disrupt your sleep any longer. With the right mattress topper, you can enjoy the comfort and support your back needs for a restorative night's sleep. Remember to prioritize firmness, material, thickness, and breathability when selecting a mattress topper, and incorporate additional strategies for back pain relief into your daily routine for optimal results. Say goodbye to morning aches and pains and hello to a rejuvenated, pain-free you!

[redshiftsinger]

ok that's... yeah layering is great but some of that's actually very incorrect, friend. Silk is an excellent base layer material. Cotton is not great but silk is fantastic. It's possibly the best base layer material you can have.

Cotton is really not ideal because it can go clammy very fast when damp, but it's ok if you're not going to be sweaty, or if it's a thin first layer with another breathable/wicking layer over that's better at insulating. If you can't stand wool against your skin, thin cotton socks under thick wool socks is a good stack to keep you from getting itchy but still keep your feet warm with the fabulous insulatory power of wool (caveat that this is specifically advice tested by me, whose issue with wool-on-skin is sensory only. If you have a wool allergy I can't promise that this would adequately protect you from reacting).

Synthetics are less breathable/wicking than natural materials. Breathability is VERY important in a base layer. What spandex is particularly good for is exercise clothes that, yes, you'll sweat in -- but as a single layer, and chosen for its stretch properties, because it won't restrict your ability to move. But it's not particularly wicking nor particularly breathable, and if you've layered up over it you're not going to get the benefit of airflow through the small holes in the structure of the fabric that allow sweat to evaporate away when it's worn as a single layer.

Basically:

protein fibers like silk, wool, angora, cashmere are breathable, wicking, and very insulating (silk can be cool and comfortable for hot weather as well, but cool silk depends on it being lightweight -- it's the ability to make it very finely-spun without losing structural integrity, plus its breathability, that makes silk summer garments a good choice for staying cool. Since silk is almost never found in the heavier forms that other protein fibers are more common in it's gotten associated primarily with summer wear, but it IS still a protein fiber, and you can tell silk apart from synthetics with similarly smooth/soft textural finish by the way it reflects back body heat immediately while a synthetic will initially feel cool to the touch).

plant fibers like cotton and linen are very breathable/wicking, but relatively poor insulators and will pull heat away from you when wet, including sweat-damp, thus they don't make ideal base layers when you need to stay warm (a cotton sweater can be nice and cozy, but the coziness is dependent on the thickness of the yarn and the air pockets, not the fiber, and if it gets wet that coziness is gone). Linen is particularly ideal for summer clothing for its INCREDIBLE breathability and relative lack of insulatory ability.

synthetics in knit or looser weave form are midrange for breathability, wicking, and insulation. Their main benefit aside from being generally the least expensive option is stretch and flexibility; most of the breathability comes from the weave rather than the fiber. If using a synthetic for a base layer, you want a loose, light weave or knit -- but there's a reason why it's cotton rather than synthetic underwear that's recommended for folks with vaginas to avoid swamp-crotch and the issues that can develop when a vagina doesn't get adequate airflow for too long, and breathability is that reason.

sheet materials like leather, sheet-structured or very tightly-woven synthetics, and I'd include an overlap for boiled wool here, are windbreaking and make a good top layer, but tend to be much less breathable and non-wicking (with the exception of boiled wool, which has the best breathability and wicking properties in the category "good choices for a windbreak outer layer").

Layering: you want breathability and wicking in your base layer/s. You want air pockets in the middle layer/s. And you want windbreaking in the outer layer.

Jeans are NOT good for staying warm in winter -- cotton is a poor insulator, they don't have air pockets like a knitted cotton sweater would, and they're mediocre at best as a windbreak. They are much better than nothing, and they're most people's pants staple, but DO change into a dry pair if they get wet, and try to at least wear a pair of tights or leggings underneath. If you have a pair of wool or even wool-blend dress pants, even if they're thinner than your jeans, they're likely to keep you warmer.

There’s a nasty winter storm that’s going to hit most of the central regions of the US tomorrow (21 December 2022), especially tomorrow night. Please check your local forecasts if you live anywhere west of the rocky mountains, even down as far south as Texas. In some areas of the Plains region, windchill is likely to be -50F to -70F. That is so cold that you will develop frostbite in minutes. You will lose extremities without protection if you are exposed to windchill that cold. -70F is “surface of Mars” cold.

My part of the US is going to be below freezing all next week. This is normal for some. Not so normal for others.

If your area is likely to be impacted by the storm, please prepare now. The most important thing is staying warm and staying inside until things warm up outside. Specific tips I can offer, as somebody who regularly deals with cold winters are:

Put blankets over windows and doors. This will help your house retain heat.

Stay well-fed. Buy food now. You will get hungry faster because your body will burn calories to stay warm.

Stay hydrated. If your lips are chapped you’re probably dehydrated.

Stay dry. Remove wet clothing as soon as possible. It is better to be naked than wet when it is cold.

If it is going to get below freezing for more than an hour or two, run your water at a trickle or drip to prevent your pipes from bursting. The colder it gets the faster your pipes will freeze.

Here’s the weather forecast for this storm:

[bukkum]

Style Tips To Feel Fashionable With Men Track Pant During Workout

The modern take on sweatpants, known as “track pant,” has a slimmer cut across the leg and waist. They are constructed from a breathable, stretchy material. Due to their slim cut, track pants are often worn with ribbed cuffs or sized zips at the ankles. Track pants, often known as joggers or thin-legged sweatpants, are available by these other names on our website.

Track pants, or “trackies,” were originally intended for males to wear while exercising. However, you may use them for both workouts and everyday use.

Today, track pants are once again becoming a staple of men’s fashion as athleisure wear returns, and men’s fashion continues experimenting with unconventional combinations of garments. Track pants are no longer only for working out in; they are a fashion statement in their own right. Now more than ever, trendy finest track pants for men are a staple in any person’s closet.

What’s The Difference Between Track Pants And Sweatpants?

Heavy cotton is the standard for making traditional sweatpants. This makes them larger and cozier but also more suited to lounging about the house. In contrast to traditional sweatpants, track pants are often crafted from breathable cotton. Fabrics like polyester, designed to wick sweat and keep you cool, may also be used in their construction.

Shirt And Shorts For Jogging

A pair of trousers may create an effortless, put-together, and relaxed style when paired with a button-down shirt. Always keep your appearance nice and clean by wearing a fitted T-shirt and track trousers with cuffs. Achieve a classic look by settling on a color scheme of black, white, grey, blue, etc. Track pants men and a cool graphic tee is other options.

Tracksuit Bottoms And A Hoodie

Combining a sweatshirt with track trousers is a failsafe way to enter the athleisure trend. Putting together the sound palette will give your outfit a jollier vibe. Always make sure your shoe choice complements your outfit.

T-Shirts and Shorts

Wearing a sweatshirt and some sports track pants is a great way to stay warm and stylish this winter. These sweatpants are great for lounging about in, and you can even test out a muffler with them when the weather gets chilly. A zipper hoodie and loose-fitting track trousers make a great workout suit for men.

You can play around with intriguing or humorous tank lettering while looking fashionable. Although tank tops are often intended to be loose fitting, customized versions are also available for those who do not have excessive body fat.

With A Blazer

Do you ever think of combining a jacket with your workout clothes? Surprisingly, you can! Wearing a blazer with track pants is such an unexpected combination that you will turn heads. This outfit is great for going on a drive with your colleagues. Pick a jacket with fewer lapels and wear it over a tee. The best color palette for this design style is a monochromatic one. Overall, the outfit will surely draw attention to its wearer.

Tracksuits And Denim Jackets

If you are going for a laid-back style, pair the men’s track pants with the denim jacket. Choose a denim jacket to go with your track trousers for a more put-together appearance. Choose a darker denim jacket to round off the ensemble. Therefore, use decent shoes to complement your slim, fitting track pants for a trendy, contemporary style.

Tracksuit Top And Leather Jacket

Do you wish to look good when riding your bike frequently? You could wear jeans with a motorcycle jacket, but we recommend trying on some track pants instead. Wear a modern biker outfit with loose-fitting track trousers and a fake leather jacket.

Tracksuits And Button-Down Shirts

It has a professional upper and a relaxing lower. Choose a button-down shirt in a comfortable fabric, such as chambray, oxford, or flannel. On the weekend, you should wear a tee shirt beneath your button-down.

Polo Shirts And Sweatsuits

They made a good choice since they effectively conjured up an athleisure mentality. Track pants made from thicker fabric are ideal for a more put-together look, while light, casual track trousers are best for a more relaxed vibe. It gives the impression of solidity. Never let anything slip your notice! You will stand out like a sore thumb amid the crowd.

Tracksuit and Bomber Jacket

A bomber jacket is a timeless piece that can complement any look. It’s an essential piece of apparel that may be worn in various ways. It’s the perfect finishing touch to your outfit, giving it an air of relaxed athleisure.

Keep the appearance edgier by opting for shorter bomber jackets. You can pair just about every hue with a black bomber jacket. Wear it with a white or neutral-colored shirt and black or dark-colored track trousers. Insert sneakers or sliders, as appropriate.

Conclusion

Try to choose the colors that bring out your greatest features, whether you are dressed formally or casually. Modern updates to the design of track pants make them appropriate for business and casual settings. You may wear today’s fashionable gym track pants all year round, and they will still be as comfortable as your favorite pair of pajamas.

Source Link[bukkum.com]

[akerassentialsreview]

Kerassentials Reviews - Restoring Your Pearly Prevent Your Nail-fungus and skin

If you've ever had a yeast infection, Kerassentials Reviews you're aware that it's crucial to get rid of it quickly. In addition, learning ways to stop a yeast infection from happening is also crucial. What can help this situation? They're all here. Keep reading to learn more.

After performing strenuous activity that pulls sweat from the body or stresses the hormones, make certain that you retire your current clothing and find a fresh pair for replacement. This can help you reduce the moisture on your body, which can prevent yeast infections.

Avoid wearing any clothes that contain irritating or synthetic fibers, as it can be what leads to yeast infections. The infection occurs when clothing is moist or wet, thus providing the perfect thriving environment for the yeast fungus. Consider wearing clothes made from real cotton, as it gives your body room to breathe.

Avoid wearing underwear Kerassentials while you are at home. Your body needs room to breathe. Yeast infections are more common in the heat. You may feel tempted to wear underwear out of habit. At the very least, however, you should try to begin sleeping without it. Doing so will make a yeast infection less likely to occur.

Stay away from skinny jeans. Tight fitting pants might look and feel great. Unfortunately, they can also cause yeast infections. Try to avoid them. Instead, wear something thin and airy. You need to give yourself room to breathe. Keeping your genitals too tightly confined can create the perfect conditions for a yeast infection.

Keep you diabetes under good control in order to avoid yeast infections. If you have a blood sugar, infections will be able to thrive in your body. If you have diabetes and suddenly find yourself plagued by recurring yeast infections, this is a good indicator that your blood sugars are out of control.

Wearing cotton underwear can help prevent yeast infections. Underwear made of synthetic materials just hold moisture in, which causes yeast to grow. Choose panties that are 100 percent cotton and change them often. This can help you stay healthy and dry.

Keep cool. Yeast tends to thrive in warm environments. Kerassentials Oil Try to keep your vaginal area cool and dry by not taking long hot baths. Also avoid soaking in hot tubs. When the weather is warm, be especially conscious of the clothes that you wear. Don't wear anything too tight that will keep air from cooling your vaginal area.

If you tend to get yeast infection more than once a year, you should consider making changes to your life. Stop taking birth control pills, eliminate foods too rich in sugar and carbs from your diet and improve your hygiene. Schedule an appointment with your doctor and find a solution to get rid of your infections for good.

One of the most helpful tips to prevent vaginal yeast infections is to make sure you wash well whenever you take a shower. Be sure and clean all over, particularly the inside folds of the vagina as this is where yeast is most likely to grow. You should be sure to shower daily.

Take steps to boost your immune system if you are prone to chronic yeast infections. If your body's defenses are strong, you will be better able to ward off yeast infections. Therefore, try to improve your overall health. Exercise more, quit smoking, take a multivitamin and avoid sweets to help improve your body's immune system and avoid yeast infections.

Click here

#kerassentials

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[christasclothes]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: CRZ Workout Joggers.

[freddysjewelry]

A Complete Guide To Hematite Rings

Proposing to your partner in crime, ride or die, and soulmate can be a confusing task as there are many Miami Jewelers who have an exquisite display of rings out there but how to decide which is the right one for her? Which ring will look appealing to her? So many questions that have skeptical answers.  

Here’s a suggestion for you. Break the monotony by wooing her with a gemstone ring instead of a diamond ring. Gemstones have a history of their own and can become a symbol of your relationship. 

One such gemstone is Hematite. It is a shimmery metallic black-silver stone that is multifaceted and suits various styles. If you are looking for something sophisticated, romantic, and mystical, you have come to the right place as you can shop for the finest engagement rings in Miami. You might be curious about what a hematite gemstone is, so here’s

What is Hematite?

Hematite is a mineral that is deep brownish-red in color. When it is carved and polished, it takes on a glossy black or deep silver-grey hue. Hematite rings are symbolic of balance. Hematite, when set in a ring, has many metaphysical properties. 

It is so cool that a dark-hued stone possesses extravagant qualities that can help the wearer be secure and at the same time look stylish. Now that you know a little bit about this gemstone, let us discuss its history so that you can gain a better understanding of it. Though, There are many jewelers who sell diamond rings in Miami, wooing her with a gemstone ring like Hematite will make you stand out from the crowd.

History of Hematite

The name hematite comes from the Greek word haima, or ema, meaning 'blood,' as it shows a blood-red color when cut into thin slices. As such, hematite is also called 'bloodstone.' Sometimes, when the stone has a layered appearance, like the petals of a flower, it's called an 'iron rose.' Hematite has a long history as a material with many different uses. Shiny hematite crystals have traditionally been used in mirrors, and are sometimes called specular hematite. 

This precious stone is being used since ancient times and has spiritual as well as healing properties. After learning the history of the stone, you might want to become a gemstone buyer instead of a diamond jewelry buyer wanting to know more about it so that you can woo your girl with the best right, so here are

The Benefits Of Choosing Hematite As Your Engagement Ring:

It is a popular feng shui for providing grounding and calming energies.

It promotes balance and protects the wearer.

 It offers healing energy and strength.

It controls the root chakra of the body.

It keeps negativity away from you and prevents all evil energies from touching you.

It helps you boost your confidence.

It attracts prosperity to you. 

These are some of the benefits your fiance can experience wearing a hematite ring. Having learned a lot about this gemstone, you might be curious to know how to take care of your ring. So Here's 

How to Care For A Hematite Ring?

Due to the brittle nature of hematite, you should be extremely careful with your jewelry. Taking off the ring during activities like cooking, exercising, or moving heavy objects is recommended. If you want to wash it at home, you can use mild soap and keep it away from ammonia and ultrasonic cleaning machines.

Following your knowledge of hematite gemstones, you might want to make it the stone of your engagement ring. If you are looking for places to buy gemstone engagement rings then you should visit Freddy’s which has the best collection of jewelry in both precious stones and gemstones. They also have loose diamonds for sale. 

Original Source: https://freddyjewelry.blogspot.com/2022/11/a-complete-guide-to-hematite-rings.html

[venomous-qwille]

Heeeeeyyy, I love me a good fucking STUDY

for environments:

shot deck is a massive database of film shots searchable by grading, tod, shot type, characters and content! Studying from films really helps improve your values and composition as the shots are usually very carefully constructed! It helps you find ways to maintain realism while still packing mood and narrative into your work!

master paintings! I recommend the orientalists like Jean Leon Gerome in particular their environments had great compositions and throw around a ton of colour and light! I like the modern artists Craig Mullins and Richard Schmid also, as there is so much impressionist lost detail and simplicity yet the environments feel so real.

The 1960s era disney background artists like eyvind earle are a masterclass in stylisation and simplification and make a wonderful choice for studies. (That being said modern disney visdev artists like Nathan Fowkes are just as fantastic to study for the same reason)

architectural photography can be a great resource too- I love to look for work by urbEX people!

thumbnailing and comp studies- trying to break down a photo into as few values as possible and still have it be readable- this really helps train your brain in the relationship between light exposure and local value.

Im begging you if doing it in colour is too hard to start with just do it in black and white!!!!! Greyscale painting is an essential step in learning to paint and understand lighting scenarios!! Colour is hard!!!

there is no substitute for going outside and doing some plein air painting- really looking first hand at how the light effects different materials and objects, how it bounces around, what edges your eye naturally loses in certain lighting scenarios. Just go outside and draw and try to notice stuff.

for characters:

figure studies!!!! from life if you can but if you cant there are a ton of great resources out there- personally I love croquis cafe and posespace, but if you can afford it (and are interested in intense anatomy study) then scott eaton has a site called bodies in motion which is fantaaaastic. I think by now everyone knows nyx and senshistock, I also use a lot of grafit studio photorefs to study more complicated poses!!

Master studies (again). I particularly like to study the work of John Singer Sargent, Joaquin Sorolla, Edwin Austin Abbey, Alphonse Mucha (his le pater compositions are out of this world), any of the New Rochelle artists (e.g rockwell, tom lovell, those 1950s illustrators REALLY knew their shit).

I literally have a resin skull on my desk that I've used to do quick studies with different lighting, just 10 mins a day back when I was doing it and it levelled up my skill a lot!.

Material studies are essential to leveling up your character painting!!! Look at fur, look at metal, look at the way something embroidered reflects light vs tooled leather!!

gesture studies! Look at a dynamic pose and see how you can exaggerate the motion in away that captures the sense of movement. This is tricky to start with but its really worthwhile especially when you combine it with other exercises. Mixamo is a cool library to look into for this kind of thing as you can pause and rotate the models in the middle of their actions!

breakdown the work of artists you admire- it's ok to study other living artists (and try to reverse engineer how they are making their decisions) it's a very effective learning tool! Really figure out what it is about that persons workflow you like, and how you might incorporate that element into your own. Obviously, dont post studies of living artists work!

The most important thing is that when you do a study you go into it knowing what you want to learn. Dont try to do everything at once! It's ok to focus on the muscle structure and not give a damn about the gesture. It's ok to focus on the texture of the fur and completely ignore the characters face.

The best way to keep doing studies is to find refs you like- things you are interested in and that capture your imagination! Follow your curiosity and remember that just a tiny little bit a day makes a huge difference.

Gunna take a sec to recommend the tutorials of Devin Korwin. He talks about how to study and how to breakdown art fundamentals in a way that is at once both very advanced but also digestible. I highly recommend his pdfs!

What do you all study when you're doing art studies??

[djarinsbeskar]

Counterstrike - Boxer!Din AU

Definition -  a strike that retaliates against an earlier strike.

A/N: Finally back with a long awaited instalment for Boxer!Din. I’m floored by the response he has received since I posted him first and I just wanted to thank you all so much for showing him (and me) so much love (and lust). In particular, I’d like to dedicate this instalment to @bestinbeskar @honestly-shite @3frontier and @pedro4ever for the gorgeous art of Boxer!Din they each made! Links can be found on the Boxer!Din masterlist below.

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I write), semi-public sex, rough dom!Din, dirty talking, no beta.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

Ever since he first fucked you in the middle of his boxing ring, Din had developed a bit of a bad habit. A habit that involved finding some way to bury his cock inside you ever time he saw you; an inconvenience since you mostly came across each other in less than private settings. His gym, the sports clinic, or the massage studio you worked at.

It was sweltering, the city falling under the hold of a heatwave that no number of cold showers would help cool. Din ran hot by nature, and the heat only served to make him two things: irritable and horny.

That might explain the near instant reaction he had to the tempting little sundress you wore to combat the suffocating heat when you popped your head around the main doors of the gym. Your day off if the lack of uniform was anything to go by. A vision in coral pink and flushed skin, you beamed against the metal and muted, dark tones of the boxing area.

Sweat dropped down his temple from where he lay on the bench press, bare chest glistening and muscles taut as he lowered the barbell down slowly to his chest. Trained, expert eyes – honed instinct to notice every miniscule move of an opponent – picked up the flash of color and immediately flickered over to where you were approaching him.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

His jaw clenched as he turned his attention resolutely back up to stare at the ceiling, focus Djarin. With a measured exhale, his muscles bunched to press the heavy weight back up away from his body, held it for a beat, and let it lower once more on a slow inhale.

Three more.

His head turned towards you to admire your form as you traced your hand over the dumbbell stand, skilled fingers walking along the progressively heavier weights while your eyes met his in the wall of mirrors behind the stand. You smiled. And it lit your face up.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes dropped from yours down your body indulgently, content to hold the weight of the barbell a beat longer. The way that dress clung to every damned curve he wanted to sink his fingers and teeth into, the swish of the skirt barely reaching the middle of supple thighs that looked better thrown over his shoulders. The fucking nerve you had to not bother concealing the faded mark on the top of your breast where it peeked out from over your neckline where he left it several days ago.

His mouth twisted into a snarl, his mark. Damn fucking right.

You were teasing him, crossing one ankle over the other to turn towards him with a dainty twirl of your skirt. Don’t get distracted on the bench, he growled to himself internally, and with a grunt, he pushed the barbell back up, the lines of muscles that cut across his triceps flexing taut and his pectorals pulsed from the strain of exercising them.

The pulse of his cock in his gym shorts on the other hand, that wasn’t a muscle that was supposed to be engaged for this particular exercise.

Two more.

“Miss me already, sweetheart?”

He ground out, voice rough and strained—keenly aware of the sway of your hips as you walked back towards the bench, his eyes at perfect eye level to thighs he wanted to wrap around his waist. You passed his head – fuck, he could smell you from here – to stand by his hips. He brought the barbell back down slowly towards his chest, breathing more labored than it should be and his jaw clenched in frustration. You were getting to him.

His grip on the metal bar almost slipped entirely when you hiked up the skirt of your dress to kick one leg over the bench and straddle his hips, the sudden weight and heat making him grunt in surprise.

You were soaked—he realized at the same time it dawned on him that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“Does this answer your question?”

Voice as light and airy as the lavender scent that suffused the room you gave massages in—making his teeth grind and his hips struggle to remain still when memories of that same voice breathless and gasping with moans he elicited rose in his memory.

You rubbed yourself over the thick outline of him through his gym shorts – you little fucking tease – and sweat wasn’t the only thing dampening them anymore.

“Finish your workout, Din,” you sighed breathily, hooded eyes scanning the empty gym floor appreciatively—basking in the ability to rock so openly and languidly over his throbbing cock. It was a sunny day. It was the end of the week. No one was in the gym—and that was precisely why Din chose to work out now.

His eyes never left yours, molten pools filling with dark promise clashed with yours as your small hands found the planes of his tight abdomen, the muscles clenching sensitively under your touch,

“Keep your back straight… don’t want to injure yourself again—” you purred and received a warning growl in response when he pushed the weight back up, a ripple of heated arousal gathering low at his spine and tightening to a coil beneath your hands that indulgently ran over toned muscles and tawny, inked skin.

One more.

Fuck… but you felt so good. Grinding on him like that.

Din’s hips rocked up against you despite himself, his heels pressing into the grate metal flooring to push his clothed cock against your dripping cunt, your soft gasp when he caught your clit music to his ears and the last bit of motivation he needed to drop the barbell back to his chest. You focused your ruts on the tip of his bulge, the fucking audacity you had to use him to get yourself off��grinding your clit over his soaked shorts and digging short nails into his stomach while soft, gentle eyes darkened with lust bore into his.

He lowered his hips again, smirking at the soft whine of annoyance you couldn’t mask in order to adjust his posture correctly. With one last exhale, a panted curse as corded muscles tensed and released with a final burst of energy, his arms straightened once more above him.

Finally.

He had a hand tangled in the length of your hair before the clatter of the metal barbell hitting the hooks of the stand above him died out, yanking you down until your breasts were flush with his heaving chest. His other hand – calloused and rough – grabbed a fistful of your ass, the soft material of your dress bunching effortlessly in his hand,

“Didn’t get enough last week, baby?” he growled against your mouth, guiding your hips over his cock harder now that he could thrust shallowly against you, grinning darkly at your keen of frustration when his mouth glanced yours, avoiding kissing you, “fuck, you’re soaked for me already—”

Teeth grazing your jaw, you arched your neck back in blind submission, the hand caught against his stomach shifting down to tug at his shorts, succeeding in getting them only halfway down. You both groaned at the contact when wet, slick heat burned around the leaking head of his cock, making the heatwave outside feel like nothing more than a warm breeze.

“Din…” you moaned when a perfectly timed grind of his hips knocked the blunt tip against your hooded bundle of nerves, “a week is too long…” you admitted to the boxer’s delight. Finally. He wasn’t the only one going stir crazy only seeing you sporadically.

“Yeah?” he rasped, tightening his hold in your hair so he could keep your head pulled back while he licked a small trickle of sweat that was slowly making its way down to the hollow of your throat, “thinking about my cock all this time?”

Feral pride filled him at your immediate nod, his chest swelling with a primal snarl – why the fuck did you have to agree so easily, he’d never stop thinking about it now – and captured your lips heatedly with his own. Growling your name, he plundered your mouth—lapping along your tongue and groaning at your taste, swallowing your soft sighs and mewls of satisfaction at finally having his lips on yours again.

His hand dropped from your hair to drag down your spine, down the thin fabric that clung to your heated skin until he was dipping two thick digits between exposed cheeks to swipe through your drenched folds. Circling, spreading, coaxing whines and groans of his name with every press of his fingers. Music more beautiful than even the most skilled pianist could create, and all from the fingers of a fighter.

Conversation from elsewhere in the vicinity carried through empty corridors and with a dip of his fingers into your quivering entrance – chestnut eyes sharpened to dark amber watching doe eyes flutter shut in pleasure – his words breathed into your mouth when your lips parted against his,

“Locker room. Now.”

What followed was a heated scramble, a need to be close—to remain in this transcendent bubble of scorching touches and burning attraction. He practically dragged you with him across the gym floor, weaving between machines with his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist. You already looked wrecked, thoroughly corrupted with mused hair, and crooked clothing. Your legs wobbled as you followed his menacing frame, eyes glued to the shifting muscles in his back, an apex predator dragging his prey back to devour in rapture. You went willingly.

The tiles of the shower cubicle were cold when he shoved you against them – the only place remotely private in the locker room when he tugged the thin curtain closed behind you – his hands flexing around your jaw when he turned your face up for him to kiss. Free hand pressing into the small of your back, he made you arch against him, and you mewled at the solid length of him throbbing against your stomach.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he rumbled, hand snaking around to disappear beneath the skirt of your dress again as he rocked his hips against you slowly—cupping your cunt and his teeth leaving a trail of bites down your throat as his words whispered across the tiles.

You blushed.

He saw it—even above the flush of arousal, he saw your cheeks darken and your eyes flicker to the side at his words. Avoiding his gaze, expecting a hunter’s response of claws and teeth to your doe-like display of weakness—and his eyes softened minutely. Some of the aggressive tightness bled from his gaze which he hid in a nip to your jaw, the heel of his hand rubbing in tempting circles over your swollen clit while his fingers split along your entrance, smearing your slick over puffy lips.

You rocked your hips over his hand needily, fingers scratching down the sides of his neck, scoring passion into the tanned skin and whispers against his lips – please Din, please – along with the pleasurable pain rippling from your nails compelled him to shove two fingers knuckle deep into your tight cunt.

He covered your mouth quickly with his palm when an unadulterated moan ricocheted off the tiles, echoing louder – “fuck baby, quiet” – was hissed against your cheek even as his fingers picked up a merciless pace of pump pump pump, his thumb swiping across your clit, his speed building—making it harder for you to stay quiet as you whimpered against his hand.

Nails digging into his shoulders, you buried your face into his sweat slick neck when he dropped his hand from your mouth to hike your leg up over his arm, spread you wider for him to thrust soaked fingers into your sopping core.

When you came the first time, you bit his neck—his teeth baring from the sting while his fingers scissored against your convulsing walls, dragging you through contractions of pleasure that sent spikes of electricity to cloud your brain in a muffled babble of yes yes yes sobbed into his neck.

Condensation misted the tiles by your head as heat lifted from sweltering bodies. Din growled praise, rough rasps of “good girl, that’s it…” into your ear as you relaxed around fingers that were lazily curling up inside you, your mouth working lazily over the sensitive point where his jaw met his neck, nipping—licking, begging him to fuck you.

His brain short circuited.

His large body caging you against the wall, you preened and arched and tempted him into you with soft sighs of his name and your hands tracing down to the hem of his shorts. Heavy, lust-pooled eyed followed your hands, watching you pull him from his shorts and stroke him with expert fingers that never failed to make him fall apart—on your table, in your bed… you bewitched him with touch since first he met you. He was a slave to it.

“Fuck, baby—” he groaned, his head falling back before he swiped your hands away from his swollen length, giving it a few hard strokes as he ran the head between your exposed folds. He filled you with on thrust, a filthy squelch as your pussy accepted him – unable to be gentle, unable to take his time when all he could think of was claiming you over and again, of meeting your counterstrike with a knockout and hearing your surrender in cries of his name.

He was big—so big that every time he filled you, it felt like he was splitting you apart. The smallest hint of pain, the breach of his cock melting into a delicious fire that licked and coated your nerves as the fat head knocked against soft tissue inside you. He found his pace with a slow rut that dragged his cock along tight walls where you could feel every single vein throb enticingly against you.

His facial hair sanded across your cheek as he panted how good you felt, how tight—how addicted he was to the feel of you, how he wanted to fuck you for hours. Your nails curved down over the muscles of his shoulder blades, along his waist—basking in his size, his strength—his head lowering to scrape his teeth over the swell of your breast, sucking over the ghost of his previous mark and drawing blood back to the surface as he snapped his hips back into you.

And then the door to the locker room opened, and conversation filled it.

Din didn’t even think before slamming his fist onto the water pressure, drenching the two of you in seconds with cool water and drowning the sounds of his cock slamming into you with the hiss of water falling in rivulets down your bodies.

You moaned, too far gone to know – or care – that you weren’t alone, and his hand came back up to cover your mouth with a warning growl into your ear, “Shut up, unless you want to give them a show.”

Even as he said it, his pace grew harder—punching gasps and sounds of surprised pleasure from parted lips that were only mitigated by the calloused palm he folded over them. Your nipples pebbled through soaked fabric, drawing his eager mouth down to suck it raw through the dress, whimpers for more echoed in the tight clench of your cunt around his glistening length.

Steam filled the shower, bleeding out into the locker room where laughter and conversation blended to mask the wet slaps of his skin against yours, the sodden movement of clothes and his guttural groans around your nipple as you clawed at his undulating back.

“Din—” you whispered, panting as strands of your hair fell into your face—fucked out and divine when his mouth slanted over yours again, your chest heaving while one hand lifted to cup his jaw, keeping his mouth on yours. He snapped into the dripping grasp of your pussy hard, shoving you up the wall onto your toes, the graze of the short coarse hairs at the base of his cock tickling over your sensitive clit.

“So fucking loud…” he growled on a whip of anger, the sound cracking down the feral possessiveness of his tone and making you moan. He would spank that pretty ass red, your pussy pink if there wasn’t the risk of the sound carrying to the other athletes getting changed for their workout.

Oh well.

That just meant he would have to take you again later.

His balls tightened and his stomach clenched at the thought, fuck. He wanted you again and he hadn’t even cum yet—your tight little cunt already quivering and tightening around him with your oncoming orgasm as he lost himself in eyes flooded with open desire— disarming him with the candor he saw reflected in them. He swallowed thickly.

“Gonna ruin you, sweetheart,” was his immediate reaction, the only way he could think to reciprocate. A gush of wetness pushed around his cock drilling into you, your walls getting impossibly tighter, and he smirked darkly—his nose pressing into your cheek, teeth bared and feral, “you’d like that, huh?”

Delirious nods were all you were capable of as silent gasps kept your lips parted, eyes rolling back when his thumb dropped to draw tight, fixated little circles on your clit—forcing you over the edge with a final blow that sucked the breath right out of you, the boxer taking and taking and taking everything he wanted from you with wet thrusts and brutal bites to your already marked neck.

He swallowed your orgasm with his mouth, the wet strands of his hair dripping water onto your pretty face as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, dropping his free hand to slide down the length of your side as his thrust turned erratic, chasing his high—chasing that bliss he could only find buried deep inside you.

“Cum, Din—cum,” you breathed, cupping his face as you smiled—exhaustion written plain on your face and his brows pinched in concentration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp of your name, breathless as he pulled out—his hand moving frantically over the swollen length of him until he coated your mound and dress with his release. It washed away in streaks of milky white down your body, a subtle pang of fatigued frustration to see it disappear so quickly flashing though him.

The locker room was silent when he turned the water pressure off.

Apart from your labored breathing, the locker room was silent—the prior occupants leaving none the wiser or – if they had heard anything – wisely leaving.

Din dropped your leg from where it remained hooked over his arm, his hands fisting in the skirt of your dress to drag the sodden material up and over your head with a shiver at the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes.

The sight of your naked body made his softening cock twitch, dammit. You were all gentle curves and soft skin, clothed in the marks of his mouth and bruises of his grip.

He wanted you again.

And caged within his arms, trapped with his hands pressed either side of your head, his shaggy head of soaked waves falling into dark, guarded eyes—you could admit you wanted him again too.

“I’ll wash your dress,” he rasped gruffly, taking a step back from you and kicking off his shorts to wring out and toss into his gym bag. He left the shower with effortless calm, as if he wasn’t stark naked but returned with a towel for you to wrap yourself in.

You flashed him a grateful smile that stuttered when he tossed another – smaller – towel on your head, rubbing it quickly over your soaked locks despite your complaints, a crooked smirk your only indication that he was playing.

“You don’t have t—”

“You can wait for it to dry at my place.”

His words brokered no argument as you padded after him into the empty locker room, the boxer rummaging through his own locker to pull out a simple white t-shirt—long enough to cover you… just about. The hem fell shorter than your dress and you were distinctly aware of your lack of underwear when you pulled it on.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rumbled as he tugged a tight black muscle shirt over his head, looking down at you with a devastating smirk and sinfully half-lidded eyes, “I don’t share. No one will see you.”

Taglist:

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[writerthreads]

25 medical terms to use

Because medicine is a really really cool job to practice and write about, here are 25 common medical terms that you can include if you every have to write a hospital scene (or use it in your day to day life too!)

Benign

Not cancerous

Malignant

Cancerous

Anti-inflammatory

Reduces swelling, pain, and soreness (such as ibuprofen or naproxen). Drugs include non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs)

Body Mass Index (BMI)

Body fat measurement based on height and weight. It is inaccurate as it doesn't account for muscle mass and bone density, so doctors usually need to use contextual evidence to decide whether a patient is healthy or not. (Eg. if a body builder's BMI is in the overweight category, it could be because he has a very high muscle density and muscle is heavier than fat)

Biopsy

A tissue sample for testing purposes. A doctor should recommend a biopsy when an initial test suggests an area of tissue in the body isn't normal.

Hypotension

Low blood pressure

Hypertension

High blood pressure

Lesion

Wound, sore, or cut

Noninvasive (treatment)

Doesn’t require entering the body with instruments; usually simple. Examples include: exercise/physical therapy, behavioural techniques, massage, dietary modification, and acupuncture

Outpatient

Check in and check out the same day

Inpatient

Plan to stay overnight for one or more days

In remission

Disease is not getting worse and symptoms are getting better; not to be confused with being cured

Membrane

Thin layer of pliable tissue that serves as a covering or lining or connection between two structures

Acute

Sudden but usually short (e.g., acute illness)

Angina

Pain in the chest related to the heart that comes and goes, caused by reduced blood flow to the heart muscles. It's not usually life threatening, but it's a warning sign of a risk of a heart attack or stroke.

Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease (GERD)

Heartburn, essentially stomach acid frequently flowing back into the tube connecting your mouth and stomach

Cellulitis

Common bacterial skin infection that causes redness, swelling, and pain in the infected area of the skin

Epidermis

Outermost layer of skin

Neutrophils

Most common type of white blood cell that acts as your immune system's first line of defence by engulfing and destroying pathogens.

Edema

Swelling caused by excess fluid trapped in your body's tissues.

Embolism

A blocked artery caused by a foreign body, such as a blood clot, fat material or an air bubble.

Sutures

Stitches. Sterile surgical threads used to repair cuts and close incisions from surgery. Some wounds may require an alternative method like metal staples instead of sutures.

Polyp

Tissue growths that most often look like small, flat bumps or tiny mushroom-like stalks

Compound fracture

Broken bone that protrudes through the skin

Comminuted fracture

Broken bone that shatters into many pieces

Medics, please correct me if I got anything wrong!!

And as I’ve mentioned in our stories, I have a medicine entrance exam this summer and I also have to write my personal statement for university applications, so posts from my end will be more sporadic, sorry! —Eugenie

[after-witch]

Corsets and Blackmail [Yandere Dabi x Reader]

Title: Corsets and Blackmail [Yandere Dabi x Reader]

Synopsis: Dabi wants you in a corset. What Dabi wants, lately, Dabi gets.

Word Count: 1630

Notes: Yandere, implied noncon, mentions of body mods, improper use of a corset, very uncreative title

You inhale, eager to catch your breath, and you instantly regret it. The relief of a full breath is instantly replaced with an uncomfortable pressure, as he uses the moment to further tighten the corset he’d tossed at you earlier that afternoon. It took bribery, then outright threats, but you eventually agreed to let him put it on you.

Another decision you’re regretting.

“It’s not--” you try to exhale, to catch more breath. “It’s not supposed to be this tight.”

In response, he merely gives the bottom laces another firm tug, and you can feel the flesh of your hips underneath the leather squishing out, pushing in vain against the firm material that he’s tightened to a ridiculous degree.

You grunt, and squirm, but there’s nothing you can do about it. Your hands are pressed up against the wall, and you occasionally lean your forehead against n the cool material for support. But it’s not like you could fight Dabi off (you never could, even when you were actually dating and your fights were playful) and even if you could manage to get away from his grip, you’d never make it out of the room without a bruising grip and heated warning.

“Don’t be so dramatic, babe. Just think about all the women in history or whatever who wore these all the time.”

You bite back a smart-ass response about the myths of corsets and how movie scenes depicting women being laced into them like torture devices were based on misconceptions and myths. A corset should be supportive, not so tight that it makes you feel faint. But he’s not in the best of moods based on your initial refusal to play dress up, and so you keep your knowledge to yourself.

When he’s done--you hope he’s done, your entire midsection feels compressed and uncomfortable and your breath comes in shallow intervals--he spins you around. A few months ago, this would have been cute. It would have made you feel good. The way he’s looking at you appraisingly, approvingly, pinning you with his gaze would have made your stomach flip into butterflies.

But that was before you broke up with him. Or tried to, anyway. Before he threatened you--and your family, and your friends, and any neighbors you were particularly fond of--and eventually forced you to move in with him. To keep an eye on you, he’d said. To spoil you.

If dressing you up like some kind of fetish doll in an exaggerated shiny black leather corset counted as being spoiled.

He hums in approval and grabs your now-compressed waist, pulling you closer. You can smell his cologne and body odor and smoke, mingled together in a way that used to get you excited. Now it triggers an instinct to run.

His lips brush against your ear, kissing and teasing, and you can’t help the way your skin prickles in goosebumps, the way your stomach flips. You hate him. You wish your body would get the message more often.

“You look so fucking good. I could just eat you up.” He pulls back and tips your chin up with a finger, tilting your face to the side like he’s inspecting a prize pet at a county fair. You suppose he is, in a way.

“You want me to do that? Make you feel good?”

You shake your head, softly. It’s a stupid move, you know. You know you’re on thin ice. You know you should nod and let out a breathy sigh and let him lead you to the bed, where you’ll lay in an uncomfortable position as he slides off your underwear and makes your body respond in ways that your mind hates. But you don’t.

The instant you decline he’s gripping your chin, hard. The thin ice is definitely cracked--and you’re falling into ice-cold water.

“Why are you being so damn difficult?”

The oxygen must be getting to your brain, you think, because instead of placating him by backtracking and begging him to take you on the bed, you want to explain yourself. As if rational thought has anything to do with your current situation.

“You know why I’m so--so--” you inhale, sharp and short, hating the way your chest feels for a myriad of reasons. “--difficult, Dabi. Why can’t you try to understand how this makes me feel?” 

You feel tears pricking at your eyes and you wipe them away, not wanting to deal with the drama, the fighting, the back-and-forth guilt tripping that crying usually brought on. 

“Fine,” he says, practically spitting on your cheek.

He drops the subject--and drops your chin-- as his eyes stray to the side, where there’s a dust-streaked mirror propped up on top of the dresser. He stares at his own reflection for a moment before looking back at you, his expression far less pissed and far more thoughtful. Thoughtful scares you more than pissed, and you can feel your nerves begin to tingle in anxiety.

“Hey, you know what would go perfect with this corset?” His voice is softer now, all the harsh edges from earlier gone. It worries you just as much as his thoughtful expression.

You shake your head. You don’t know. You don’t want to know. But he’ll tell you anyway.

“How about some piercings, huh? We can match.”

Your stomach feels like it’s dropped out of your body. Your gaze flits from his grin to his own modifications. He wouldn’t--would he? Before all this, before you tried to break up with him, he’d casually suggested them once--but never again once you made your stance clear. No piercings, no tattoos, no body mods. And now…?

“I--” You swallow down your stronger objections, very aware of the dangers lurking if you chose the wrong words. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. But thanks.”

“No, no,” he argues, voice so jovial and light that it’s making you want to throw up. “It’ll be fun! Like a bonding exercise. Couple’s therapy. You’d be surprised how quickly tongue piercings heal, too, so don’t worry about missing out on takeout.”

You want to cry. Could you even breathe right if you started crying right now? The more emotions you feel, the tighter the corset feels against your waist. You swallow and dip your head back, fighting against the tears.

“Dabi… you… know--you know I don’t want piercings.” You keep your voice level, even as your stilted breathing. Avoid a fight, avoid a fight, avoid a fight.

“Oh?”

He shrugs. A casual, fuck-you gesture that stings. 

“And I want to throw you on the bed and eat you out. But if you won’t give me what I want, why should I care what you want?”

You don’t have an answer. The thick, blubbery tears you’ve been fighting are practically screaming to be let out. But you dip your head back again, determined not to cry. Crying reminds him that you don’t want to be here, and it never ends particularly well. 

So instead you force yourself to be casual. As if you’re not a captive begging your captor to not forcibly modify your body. As if you’re his… partner, having an argument about what to eat for dinner that night. As if he couldn’t just push you onto the bed and have his way with you, if he really wanted to do so.

“Dabi, c’mon…” 

The thought occurs to you--to throw in some of the snarky bite you two used to share for good measure. It’s a risk. It’s a big risk. But the idea of Dabi shoving needles through your tongue, into your skin, wherever he pleases to remake and modify you, makes you take a leap.

You grin. And oh, is it forced. But it’s all you can manage.

“Don’t be such an asshole.”

His breath is hot on your cheek as he suddenly leans grabs your arm and pulls himself in, his nose pressing against your cheek in a way that would have been endearingly mocking before; now it’s only another invasion of your space, another way to make you uncomfortable. Or maybe he’s trying to pretend that it’s the old days, too.

“Hey, that’s up to you, doll. You know that. So you gonna be my sweet girl? Let me spoil you?” He trails the back of his hand down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone; down, down, until he’s gripping the waist he laced so tight just a few minutes before. “Or do you want me to run out and get a pack of needles?”

You have a choice. 

You can’t hesitate to jump into the opening he’s given you, so you don’t. You lean up and kiss him, a soft little chaste kiss, part of the routine you used to share; you start with sweetness, with pecks and whisper-light touches, and he grips your hair and doesn’t let you go until you’re breathless from his kiss. Then he’ll take you to the bed and you’ll hate yourself afterwards.

Your thoughts are bitter as your mouth responds automatically to his own lips, to his tongue that finds its way into your unwillingly inviting mouth. 

At least the corset will make you breathless faster.

[duskholland]

Reader gets fucked by Tom and he spits and cums in her hole leaves her tied blindfolded with a vibrater and butt plug 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

— okay so I forgot about the plug when I was writing this and couldn’t figure out a way to write it in that didn’t disrupt the flow of the piece, so if you want to send this in again with more of a focus on that, I’d be more than happy to sort that out for you! otherwise - thanks for enabling my spitting kink :))))

nsfw; 18+ minors dni

extended warnings: mean!dom!tom, orgasm denial, spitting, handcuffs, blindfold, vibrator, unprotected sex, slight degradation (calls her a whore once).

———

Tom’s thumb rolls over your lower lip, pushing away your frown.

“Stop pouting at me like that,” he murmurs, his voice hanging heavy in the air, “You brought this on yourself.”

You tug at the handcuffs that tie you to the headboard, the jangling sounds of the metal filling the room.

“Please, Tom,” you whine, wriggling as much as you can. You can’t even plead with your eyes, as Tom had taken great delight in winding a scarf around your head. The silken material is wet now, saturated with your frustrated tears. “I just want- I want- I-“

“What do you want, darling?” He’s above you, hovering. You can feel his body heat radiating across your naked frame. When Tom reaches out to toy with your nipples, you lurch forward, arcs of pleasure rolling from each bud as his thumbs caress them gently. “Hmm?”

You bite your lip, mulling over your answer carefully. When you’d asked to cum, he’d just laughed, and then edged you another three times. When you’d asked to see him, Tom had only added the cuffs to the ensemble. He’s taking great joy stringing you out and working you up, but you think you know what you need to say in order to get him to snap.

“Want you to fuck me,” you ask, softly. It’s a little disconcerting, speaking into a room that you can’t see, but you can feel him touching you, hear the light sounds of his breathing. “Please, Tom,” you add, whimpering. “Use me.”

“Mmm, but that’d be giving you what you want, wouldn’t it, love?” One of Tom’s hands travels up, up, up, his index finger trailing across your jaw. You gasp when he grabs your chin roughly, finger and thumb squeezing your skin tightly. “But you’re a desperate little thing tonight, aren’t you? Would take anything I give you…” Tom chuckles, the sound cool and controlled. His thumb taps over your lower lip. “Open.”

You eagerly oblige, expecting him to slip his tongue into your mouth and kiss you. Instead, you hear the sheets rustle as Tom moves nearer, and then there’s a pause. Just as you’re beginning to wonder what he’s doing, you hear the sounds of him sucking on his tongue, and then he spits, directly into your open mouth. His warm spittle bleeds across your palette, causing you to whine as you taste him, shuddering as your centre pulses with hot desire.

“Swallow,” Tom murmurs, fingers coaxing your jaw closed. He keeps them there until you do as you’re told, swallowing his spit eagerly. “Good girl.”

He’s away before you can coax him in for a kiss, slithering down your figure, keeping both of his hands on your bare form. Tom caresses your outer thighs, humming to himself.

“You’re so wet,” he says, and you can hear the cockiness hanging in his voice. Tom pushes your legs open, and you jolt as his fingertips spread your tender pussy lips. As he rolls his touch over your puffy clit, you try to buck against him, only to find him running away from you in response. “Nuh uh,” Tom grunts, delivering a sharp slap to your inner thigh. “None of that. Haven’t you learnt a fucking thing?” He’s silent for a moment, and you bite your lip. “To think I was going to let you cum…”

Tom drags his hands away from you, and then you hear the unmistakable sound of his belt releasing. After a moment, he climbs over you, and you feel him bite the top of your shoulder as he grinds into you, cock pressing against your weeping cunt. You moan, tossing your head back. You’re so fucking tender. Tom had already brought you up to six cruel edges, only to jerk away the moment you were ready to spill. He’s had you crying, begging, whimpering - accepting it all stoically, unyielding. He’s being mean to you - cruel with his touches, crueller with his words - and you love it. You love every torturous second that he’s spent unravelling you, craving his dominant touch, living for the moments your boyfriend exercises this power over you.

Tom’s still biting up your neck as he finally enters you, the stretch melting away after a moment. You’re so wet that it slicks up your thighs, your arousal mixed with the spit Tom had left as he’d spent what felt like hours drawing lines down your slit with his tongue.

“Fucking perfect cunt though, eh?” Tom mutters. He pulls out before slamming back into you, his deep grunts spilling into the air as he buries himself in you up to the hilt. “Doesn’t matter how you’re acting, I know this fucking pussy is always going to take me well. Isn’t that right?”

You want to touch him - want to see him. It tears you up to feel his hair tickling your neck and not be able to reach out and card your fingers through it.

“Yes,” you manage, swallowing back your desires. You know he won’t want to hear them. “I love it.”

“What do you love?” One of Tom’s hands squeezes your boob, harshly, and then he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Tell me.”

It takes you a few moments to get it out, blindsided by how good it feels to have him thrusting up against you. He’s in you so deep, your legs wrapped around his waist. With each focused gyration of his hips, the tip of Tom’s cock brushes deeper, your walls expanding to fit him. Slick sounds of arousal fill the room, mixing with your whimpers.

“I love your cock, Tom,” you praise, voice raspy. The cuffs rattle above your head as you try again, instinctively, to reach out for him, groaning as you find yourself trapped.

“Mm, you’re not going anywhere.” He’s smirking into your neck, you can feel it. “Just gonna take it, love. My little greedy whore.”

You suck in a breath, your entire body shivering with want. A fresh sheen of sweat breaks out over your forehead as you get lost in the sensations. Every time he pulls out, just to slam back into you, there’s a light pressure applied to your clit. It isn’t enough to push you over the edge, but it’s enough to keep you there, dangling on the verge of climax as you cry out to him, the material of the scarf flooding with unshed tears as you let him use you.

“I think I'm going to cum inside you, love,” Tom murmurs. One of his hands grabs at your waist, fingers burning into your skin. “You’d like that, hm?” His palm slips between you, resting on the swell of your stomach. He pushes against your skin. “You want me to fill you up, darling? Because I think there’s nothing I’d like to do more than pump you full of my cum, then watch it drip out of you as you cry and beg me to let you cum.”

“Tom.”

You’re clenching around him, straining against the ties. You’re so close, his words only adding to the fire churching in the pit of your stomach, but it’s still not enough.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it. So tight around me, my gorgeous girl, I’m going to-“ Tom breaks off, and his voice twists up into a breathless pant. His forehead drops against your shoulder and you moan as you feel him peak. He continues to rut into you, your walks squeezing him, drawing out every pulse of release until he’s done, and you can feel his seed, filling you to the brim.

As he pulls out, you bite back a disappointed groan. The sound twists into a whimper when you feel wetness between your legs - his cum, falling from you, despite your best efforts to elevate your hips and keep it in.

Tom pulls off your blindfold with both hands, diving in to kiss your cheek before he shifts back down the bed, cooing.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, easily shoving your thighs back and up. After taking a glance at your slit, he looks up at your face, dark eyes glinting almost black. “Such a pretty fucking mess,” he tells you, sounding almost proud. He dips two slender fingers down, and for a few moments, Tom plays around with your entrance, smearing his cum from your cunt to your clit. When you start to buck down against him, he tuts. “Stay still.”

You watch through wide eyes as Tom puckers his lips, spitting again and letting his saliva fall over your throbbing clit. A thin trail of his spit connects his mouth with your centre for a moment before he shifts and it falls away, but the brief sight of it has your eyes rolling back.

“What are you doing?” You manage, voice raw. Tom picks up the scarf that had been wrapped around your eyes before moving off the bed and rummaging through a drawer, procuring a large wand a moment later. When your eyes widen again, he chuckles.

“Gonna leave you here whilst I take some calls, babe,” he tells you. His gentle touch passes over your thigh as he carefully wraps the scarf around your leg, attaching it to the vibrator. He presses the bulbous head against your clit, binding it there securely. “How does that feel?” He checks, eyebrow arched.

“It’s fine,” you whisper.

Tom kisses the inside of your knee before standing from the bed, flicking on the switch of the vibrator as he goes. As it buzzes to life against your sensitive bud, you jerk forward, unable to shift its pressure due to the tight binding, instead having to lay back and take every pleasurable pulse.

Your boyfriend gathers up his boxers and his sweats, unaffected by your sounds of tortured enjoyment. Tom pauses when he’s at the bedroom door, turning around to admire your form, spread out and quivering for him.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promises. He winks at you, hand on the doorknob, a wide smirk branded to his lips. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

[searidings]

Kara moving in with her best bud Lena for Reasons (maybe her apartment is temporarily fucked up?) and now Lena has to watch her exercise/weight-lift/do yoga in a sports bra in her apartment

It’s already been a capital D type of Day, full of misogynistic potential investors and minor workplace explosions, when Lena opens her front door to the sight of Kara Danvers in a perfect-form downward facing dog on her living room floor.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she mutters, dropping her keys noisily onto the kitchen counter and making a beeline for the booze cupboard.

“Did you say something?” Kara asks angelically, transitioning smoothly into a cobra that very delightfully and extremely unhelpfully causes her biceps to flex like a Greek goddess. Her eyes, bluer than ever against the vast expanses of smooth golden skin on display above the sinfully tight cerulean sports bra she’s wearing, flutter angelically. She beams beatifically up at Lena from her yoga mat as if there’s any possibility her superhearing didn’t pick up on Lena’s words. As if she isn’t just trying to make Lena repeat herself for her own amusement.

“What are you even doing?” Lena asks a little more sharply than she intends, jaw clenched as she wills herself not to so much as glance in the direction of Kara’s exposed abs. She treats herself to a heavy pour of scotch, pauses to consider, then adds some more. “It’s not like you need to exercise. Like, at all.”

“Surely I get to indulge in whichever recreational activities I choose in my own home,” Kara replies cheerily, avoiding Lena’s carried-home-after-a-shitty-day snark with practiced ease.

“You gave up that privilege when you moved into my home instead,” Lena deadpans, Kara’s irrepressible affability in the face of her own bad moods beginning to chip away at her steely CEO armour. “That’s what you get for letting a flea-infested mongrel into your apartment—”

“Hey, Toto couldn’t help having fleas—”

“And not only that, letting it all over your couch, your bed—”

“He was cold! He just wanted to snuggle—”

Lena shudders. “You snuggled with that monstrous thing? I hope to god you burned the clothes you were wearing. And maybe the whole couch too.”

“Toto was not a thing, he fit perfectly on my—”

“And isn’t Toto usually the name of a small dog?” Lena asks incredulously, throwing back the scotch in one smooth swallow and pouring herself another. “That beast was almost taller than you!”

“Being a lap dog isn’t about size, Lena. It’s a state of mind.”

“A state of mind that’s meant your entire apartment has had to be fumigated. Twice.”

“And I’d do it again,” Kara says resolutely, pushing up into a high plank and inadvertently flexing her shoulders in a way that has Lena’s fingers slipping around the tumbler in her grasp. “Toto was homeless. He needed someone to take him in and love him, and I did.”

She drops to her knees and pushes back into child’s pose, tilting her chin up to gaze at Lena from between her extended arms. “Just like you’ve done with me.”

And Lena curses Kara and every one of her ancestors right back to the dawn of time for how endearing she is in this moment. For how physiologically incapable Lena is of maintaining her façade of annoyance in the face of those earnest eyes. God, when had she gotten so fucking soft?

But any thoughts of the blonde as cute or adorable evaporate into thin air as Kara pushes back up into downward dog, lifting one leg straight above her in a graceful arch. Her forearms flex as long fingers grip into the soft mat and Lena chokes a little on her next sip of scotch, eyes unfortunately, deliciously glued to the jut of Kara’s hipbone through her yoga pants and the toned lines of her tightened thighs.

“Seriously though,” Lena manages, turning away from the sight and congratulating herself on the fact that her voice is only slightly higher than normal. “Why do you even bother? It’s not going to tone you up any. Not that you need it,” she mutters into her scotch glass, tipping out the dregs of the bottle and reaching into the cupboard for a fresh one.

When she turns back to face the living room Kara’s cheeks are flushed, almost as if she’s blushing. Or maybe all the blood is just rushing to her stupid, unfairly attractive head.

“Yoga is about more than just muscle tone, Lena,” the blonde says disapprovingly, her gaze fixed on her mat. “It’s a mind-body connection. Mindfulness. Inner peace. It’s doing wonderful things for my stress levels.”

“It’s doing terrible things for mine,” Lena mutters, knowing Kara will hear her but finding herself increasingly uncaring as the scotch warming her throat begins to course hot through her veins.

“Then maybe you should get down here and join me,” Kara murmurs, voice low as she switches legs.

The blonde’s tone is practically a purr and Lena chokes for real this time, spluttering out the scotch attempting to find its forever home inside her lungs. Kara is behind her in a second, hand hot through the thin material of Lena’s blouse as she rubs gentle circles between her shoulder blades.

The offending appendage doesn’t withdraw, however, even once Lena’s regained full use of her airways and is wiping the tears from her eyes. In fact, it’s joined by a friend, and both of Kara’s hands slip up and over her shoulders quite without Lena’s permission, fingers kneading into the tight muscle.

“Wow, you are tense,” Kara murmurs, thumbs doing something absolutely sinful to the knots in Lena’s neck. The blonde steps closer, bracketing Lena against the cool marble of the kitchen island with her hips and it takes every single shred of self-control Lena possesses not to sag back into the hot body hovering against the length of her own.

Lena shuts her eyes and bites down on her lower lip, hard. Anything to keep from focusing on the warmth radiating off Kara’s oh God partially clothed body like a furnace.

Long dextrous fingers dig delicious into the tense set of Lena’s shoulders and she barely manages to hold back the breathy sounds of pleasure she’s fairly certain she should not be making at her best friend’s touch. Kara, if anything, seems spurred on by Lena’s restraint, fingers slipping inside the collar of Lena’s blouse to press firmly against her bare skin and oh God Lena is not going to survive this.

In fact, she can actively feel herself giving in to the pull, to Kara’s ineffable magnetism. She sways backwards just slightly, and Lena swears she’s not the only one who sucks in a sharp breath when their bodies fully connect. The frame pressed to her back is warm and firm and God, Kara is solid against her in a way that has all the blood in Lena’s body migrating south with pinpoint precision.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me?” Kara whispers, her breath ghosting the shell of Lena’s ear and making her shiver. “I could walk you through some asanas. Might help loosen you up.”

Jesus fuck.

“Nope!” Lena squeaks, cheeks aflame, pushing away from Kara and snagging the bottle of scotch on the way to her bedroom. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Enjoy your practice.”

The quiet sounds of Kara’s chuckles follow her all the way down the hall.

Lena spends the first five minutes of her shower staring unseeing at the tiled wall, mind blank but for the image of Kara’s washboard abs over the waistband of her yoga pants, the firm press of her body against Lena’s back.

The second five minutes is spent in intense silent conversation with herself, administering an internal pep talk worthy of a high school spirit rally and trying to convince her racing heart to resume its regular rhythm.

The third interval consists of Lena shampooing her hair in mounting despair, trying desperately to foresee a way of surviving the next three days of cohabitation until Kara’s apartment is deemed safe and fume-free if the blonde is going to insist on doing distracting activities and wearing distracting sports bras and just generally being distracting the whole time.

It’s only by minute sixteen of Lena’s long indulgent shower that a plan begins to form in her mind. She steps out onto the bathmat, appraising the various towels slung over the heated rail until she finds one fit for purpose. Tucks it snug round her body and pulls her dripping curls over one shoulder before making her way back out to the living room.

She can pinpoint the exact moment the blonde notices her entrance because the quiet room is suddenly filled with a rubbery tearing sound as Kara, on her hands and knees for a spine stretch, rips the mat beneath her hands clean in two.

Lena bites her lip to hold back a smirk, watching as blue eyes track slowly up the expanse of her bare legs, unimpeded by the towel that only barely reaches to mid-thigh, and then up to follow the droplets of water tracking their way down Lena’s chest until they disappear into the soft fabric.

Kara’s mouth is hanging open, arms and legs splayed wide where they rest on either side of the torn mat, and Lena relishes the thrill of victory that zips up her spine like a firecracker. Two can play at this game, that’s for sure.

“I was going to ask if you were ready to order takeout for dinner,” Lena says, letting her own voice drop low as she quirks an eyebrow. Her gaze falls pointedly to the sad remains of Kara’s yoga mat and this time she can’t hold back her smirk. “But it seems your mind-body connection might still need some work. I’ll leave you to it.”

Satisfied, she turns on her heel and saunters back to the bedroom, Kara’s eyes glued to her swinging hips like a physical weight on her body.

Cheeks pink, heart pounding, she drops onto her bedspread as a heady combination of relief and pleasure courses through her veins. Lena hasn’t had a roommate since boarding school but maybe this cohabitation – temporary as it may be – will end up having a few unanticipated perks.