#the inner ear bones tell your brain that you are standing on solid

[whatcantheharvesthopefor]

I don't have a lot of 'visible' disabilities but i have heaps of invisible ones!!

Some rando: You should think about stopping your prescription

Me: My pills make me not want to die tho

They: You shouldn’t want to die, that’s not normal

Me: Yeah that’s why I’m taking my pills

[earlgreydream]

injured.

| stucky x reader | fluff | smut |

anon requested. After so many pleads for Y/N to stay home and be safe away from the mission; she still goes on that solo mission. However, when an injury occurs, she fears that Steve and Bucky will forbid/get mad at her for going. So she tries to hide it. However, when lust take over the same night she comes home; shower sex is in play between her lovers and her. And during all that, Steve and Bucky find the injury on her body and question it. Yet all Y/N wants to do is finish what they had started... yet to bad, having overprotective boyfriends are just what she has.

cw: mentions of violence, injury

“Shit,” you limped onto your jet, nearly collapsing to your knees on the floor.

The glass was cold and unforgiving, and you struggled to inhale, black bruises forming on your side. A sharp pain shot through your chest when you took a breath, and you wondered if your ribs were fractured, otherwise deeply bruised.

You hit the autopilot, sighing as the jet lifted and set for home. You laid back on the floor, unconsciousness clouding your mind. You fought it off, trying to keep your eyes open and focusing on breathing.

.

“Don’t go, Y/N. It’s a solo, Stark can send someone else,” Steve argued with you, knowing the dangers of sending you alone to Sokovian ruins to retrieve intel.

“You’re being ridiculous. I’ll be perfectly fine. I go on team missions all the time, and this is just intel. You worry too much,” you’d shaken your head, giving him a kiss.

Bucky was unsettled, joining Steve in his attempts to convince you to stay behind. You had brushed them off, excited to finally be assigned a solo mission. You were a newer addition to the avengers team, and you hadn’t had a chance to take a solo mission. It didn’t help when you had not one, but two overly protective boyfriends. With Steve being responsible for most mission assignments, you had been placed in groups— usually with both Steve and Bucky. You were aptly trained, but they still feared for you.

.

You laid on the floor of the jet, thinking about your mission that had gone horribly wrong.

Panic seized you as you realized that Steve and Bucky were going to lose their shit. They’d told you to stay home and you’d ignored them, and ended up injured.

What was supposed to be a simple intel gain, had turned violent when someone realized you were undercover. You’d managed to escape the sleazy club with the help of a local, but only after you’d been brutally beaten.

You had barely made it back to the jet, and now pain was flooding through your body, leaving you exhausted, and struggling to take shallow breaths. You ached, but the fear of Steve and Bucky banning you from missions was worse.

Steve could be an extremist, overly anxious about your safety. Bucky was much more level-headed and rational, but you doubted that even he would remain calm when he saw your bruises.

No problem, you just had to figure out a way to cover it up. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and you didn’t intend to let them find out.

Your brain spun through how you were going to hide it, coming up short with ideas. You pushed yourself onto your knees and iced the bruises, taking some painkiller that Stark kept on the jet.

.

You managed to get yourself standing by the time you arrived back at the compound, though you still looked a mess.

Stark greeted you when the jet opened, and you hurried onto the tarmac. His eyes widened when he saw you, and you swore.

“That bad?”

“Yeah. You look like death. What the hell happened?” Stark demanded, following you inside.

Luckily, Steve and Bucky were caught up on a mission somewhere else, and you had a couple of hours before they returned.

“Morozova caught on. Gave me a beating, but I’m fine. And I managed to get the intel you asked for. But Tony, promise me you won’t tell the boys!” You begged, and the inventor looked hesitant.

“I’m fine, and you know they’ll overreact. I’ll be more careful next time, but don’t blow this for me, please!” You pleaded, walking with him to the lab.

“Fine. But only because I owe you. And if they find out, you deny that I knew. Come on, let’s get you some help.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thanking Tony and letting him inspect your injuries. He concluded all your bones were intact, and you didn’t have internal bleeding. He cleaned your scrapes and cuts, and told you to watch the bruising. It was clear you’d had the shit kicked out of you, your ribs, stomach, hips, legs, and back evidence of the assault.

“This looks painful. You’ll need to be careful, and no physical training until you’re healed up. Got it?”

“Got it. Thanks, Stark.”

He hummed in his annoyed, impatient tone, and you watched him go. You gave yourself a moment before walking to your suite, changing into leggings and Bucky’s vintage “Stark Industries” hoodie, knowing it would hide all the bruising. You fell asleep waiting for them, exhaustion getting to you.

.

You slowly opened your eyes when lips pressed against your forehead. The touch was familiar, and you tilted your head back to meet Bucky’s mouth.

“Hi, doll,” he murmured, smiling against your lips.

You sat up, greeting the boys and kissing Steve.

“How was the mission?” Steve brushed hair from your face.

“I got all the intel for Stark,” you smiled, earning proud grins from the boys.

“That’s my girl,” Bucky kissed your cheek.

You were thankful you hadn’t been dragged into their arms, squeezed and smothered like they occasionally preferred. You concealed your pain, reduced to a dull ache from the Tylenol.

“Let’s shower, calm down a bit?” Bucky offered, kissing your neck, making your spine prickle with need.

“I’m good, go ahead. I’ve already showered.” The lie slipped out before you could stop it, and Bucky drew away from kissing your neck.

He exchanged a look with Steve before turning back to you, steel and sky blue eyes narrowing at you.

“Y/N…” Steve began, but cut off, allowing you an opportunity to explain your lie.

“I mean, I just, don’t feel up to it…” you tried, shying away from Steve when he reached out to set his hand on your leg.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” Bucky asked, worry flashing across his eyes.

“Nothing, honey. I’m fine,” you promised, touching his scruffy face and giving him a kiss.

“Then let’s have some shower sex,” Steve met your gaze.

You nodded, going in the bathroom first. You got in the shower, and they followed, seeing your body covered in bruises and scrapes.

“Y/N!” Bucky cried, lifting your arm and inspecting your injuries.

“It’s fine, really. No broken bones or internal bleeding.”

“What happened? Why didn’t you tell us?!” Steve raised his voice, making you sink back against the cold tile.

“Because I didn’t want you to get angry and forbid me from going on missions!” You defended yourself.

Both men tried to contain their agitation, not wanting you to feel like they were angry. Their fears became tangible, seeing you wounded.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been injured, we’re just worried. You need to tell us when you’re hurt,” Steve’s tone softened.

“I’m sorry,” you finally conceded.

“Don’t be. First of all, are you okay?” Bucky asked, tilting your face up.

“It hurts,” you admitted.

Bucky winced at your tone, understanding how much pain you were in. You abandoned your attempts to conceal it, and he could hear the agony in your voice.

“I’m so sorry,” he leaned down and gently kissed your bruises. Steve joined, and suddenly they were kissing all over your body.

Your hands went to Bucky’s hair as he kissed your hip, and sparkling grey eyes gazed up at you. Steve kissed your inner thigh, and you bit your lip, need pooling between your legs. Tingling started to spread through your body, and you were seconds away from begging your boyfriends to touch you.

Steve stood, towering over you from behind. Strong arms gently snaked around you, supporting your weight without putting pressure on the bruises.

“Steve-?” You looked up at him, but you tightened your grip on Bucky’s hair as his mouth went where you desired.

“Oh,” you breathed as Bucky’s tongue gently lapped through your folds, brushing over your clit.

“We’re going to be gentle, doll,” Steve promised, pressing his lips just below your ear.

“Going to make some of that ache go away,” Bucky mumbled against your heat, his speech sending echoed vibrations through your sex.

You gripped Steve’s arm, thankful he was holding you up, or else your knees would’ve buckled, weak from Bucky eating you out.

He reached up, gently brushing his fingertips over your entrance, gauging your reaction. Your muscles fluttered at the touch, trying to pull him in. He smirked against you, sucking on your clit and using his tongue to tease you. You fisted his dark hair, slipping between your fingers from being soaked by the shower, and you struggled to find solidity.

“James!” You cried, throwing your head back on Steve’s shoulder as Bucky pushed two fingers inside of you, stroking your velvety walls.

Steve gently groped your chest, teasingly rolling your nipple between his fingers. The boys knew how to get you off— and knew how to do it gently. You’d never been more thankful for them as you were in this moment, soft heat wrapping around your body, mixing with the steam of the warm shower.

Your eyes fell closed and you arched your sore back off of Steve, grinding against Bucky’s face before he coaxed an orgasm from you.

“That’s it, pretty girl, come all over Buck’s face,” Steve smirked into your neck. 

You cried out, yanking on Bucky’s hair and collapsing against Steve. You winced as he bumped your bruises, trying to catch you. He murmured out an apology, and Bucky leaned back under the water, grinning up at you. 

“Let’s get you clean, then you can rest, doll.”

You were so tired you could barely keep your eyes open as they helped you wash up, sending you to dry off so they could take care of one another. You offered to jerk them off, returning the favor, but Steve just laughed and kissed you.

“Go get in bed. We’ll join you in a bit.”

You didn’t argue, sliding into bed in fresh pajamas, printed with Steve’s shields. He’d gotten them for you as a bit of a joke, but you’d loved them, wearing them all the time. The boys’ dog tags rested under the button-down top, cold against your warm skin. You were nearly lulled to sleep by the hum of the shower, struggling to stay awake as the two boys returned to your bedroom, going to either side. 

“What happened on the mission, love?” Steve asked quietly, lying down with his face inches from yours. 

“I was in a meeting, getting the information that Stark wanted on the Hydra transfers. I’m not sure what gave it away, but General Morozova found out that I was under cover. He beat me, but a Sokovian helped me escape,” you explained wearily, sighing as Bucky’s arm went around you protectively.

“You’re safe now. Once you’re recovered, we’ll talk about future missions.”

“So you’re not banning me?” you asked hopefully, looking up at Steve.

“You’re too valuable, but you’re not going on missions without Bucky and I for a while,” Steve conceded, kissing your nose.

“I could be okay with that,” you squeezed them in a hug, ignoring the pain that shot through you. 

You giggled as kisses were littered all over your face, the three of you talking until you fell asleep. 

[alloveroliver]

Vincent x MC "Masterpiece."

Rating: Fluff to Smut 18+

A|N: This goes from “Aww.” to “:O” really fking fast. 

WC: 3,300+

Ikemen Vampire Fanfic

Without cars and crowds, the evening wind picked up nothing but serene sounds. Crickets gently chirped, and leafs quietly brushed one another. The branches rustled together, making an organic symphony that the wind carried up to the balcony you leaned on.

Vincent’s warm hands ran up and down your forearms, warming your chilled skin. From behind, he bent forward and nipped at the shell of your ear. 

“Is that better?” His silky hands moved faster, creating heated friction. 

“Mmm,” You relished in the sensation. “Much better.”

His gentle chuckle against your pulse made you wiggle into him. Vincent pressed his solid chest against your back and sighed. “Maybe if you were wearing more than just my shirt, you wouldn’t be so chilly.” 

“I just want to be out here for a moment. The fresh air is nice.” You pressed your lips together into a thin line and angled your face to him. “Don’t you agree?”

Crystal clear eyes, unintentionally smoldering, met yours. “If only I found fresh air as pleasurable as you do.” 

“You can’t be satiated, can you?” You cocked a brow. You grew closer and swept your lips over his warm temple. 

“Neither can you, my darling.” 

It was the truth; in fact, everyone in the mansion knew this fact at this point. Neither of you left the confines of Vincent's large room in over a day, barely leaving 48 hours prior to attending a special dinner hosted by Comte himself. It was ‘mandatory,’ according to Sebastian, who you understood to be trying to get you two to socialize once again with the house members. 

At dinner, Vincent couldn’t behave himself, and you too felt the shroud of lust still looming over your heads. The result of a new relationship with someone who you had extreme chemistry with. His fingers teased your inner thighs, and his lips met your neck and mouth many times before Isaac asked not-so-kindly to ‘get a room.’ Sebastian tisked, and Arthur winked as Vincent obliged, pulling you by the hand until you made it back to his room. 

“I don’t deny that.” Your thoughts were brought back to the present moment, to your handsome boyfriend clinging to you. Biting your lips, you cupped his cheek in your hand to angle his mouth to yours. He met you with fervent youthful energy. 

His fingers slid through your hair as he kissed you again and again. “I have a new idea. It’s something to help your muscles relax.”

“Is that so? What does this idea entail?” You hooked your arms around his neck and let the sparkling sky be the backdrop of your view. 

“I want to paint your body.” His nose brushed yours, making his golden hair tickle your warm skin. 

“That does sound amazing. Even if you are the reason for my sore muscles.” 

His chuckle was light and airy. Warm breath danced over your skin as he pulled you in for a sensual kiss.

Back in the bedroom, you pulled your hair up into a top-knot bun and slowly unbuttoned the oversized shirt you’d borrowed from your boyfriend. Vincent was always gracious enough to let you borrow his clothes during the time spent in his room. It was only lightly stained with streaks of blues and oranges, a painting shirt that engulfed you in his soothing scent. 

“Slower.” He tilted his head down from where he sat on the floor. His eyes darkened, and his bangs cast a shadow over his features. “Undress slower for me.” 

You halted at the button below your breasts, twining the button flirtatiously before removing it from the slit. It was a powerful feeling, knowing how deeply you were affecting him. However, moving at such a sluggish pace made him wildly impatient. His chest heaved, watching your body become bared for him.

The extra sheet on the bed wrinkled when you lay across it. The white cotton licked at your glowing skin, helping to soothe your bashful state. Entirely bare, you were prepped to become his new canvas — a blank slate for him to work into a unique piece. Vincent watched you from the corner of his eye, unrolling his leather paintbrush holster. 

He found a medium-sized brush, larger than the ones he was used to using on a flat canvas. He chose a one and a half-inch wide soft bristle paintbrush, with a long solid handle. He examined the piece, smoothing the bristles down with his fingers before deciding on it. 

“Do you want me on my stomach, or…?” You spoke quietly, watching the night air pour into the bedroom window and rustling the light curtains. 

Vincent shone a bright smile, “Your back would be a great place to start. Laying on your stomach would be ideal, for now.” His lulling voice helped your hands unclench the fabric. 

Letting out a long breath, you relaxed against the bed and turned your head to watch him. Vincent sat shirtless on the floor, surrounded by small containers, usually filled with colors. His pants where baggy, riding dangerously low on his hips. He leaned forward, dipping the massive paintbrush into a jar and swirling it around. 

“The mixtures are ready.” He chimed, standing to his feet in one fail swoop. 

Vincent moved the jars closer to the bed and sat them on the floor. You kept an eye on him as long as you could, until he made his way onto the bed behind you. The springs creaked with his weight as he moved to the side of your waist. 

“It smells nicer than your other paint’s scents.” You took in a deep breath and moved your eyes to focus on the flickering candle atop the nightstand. “Is that a new candle?” 

“It is a new candle, but that’s not what you’re smelling.” Vincent flicked the dry brush bristles over your back. Around your spine, the gentle touch of the bristles made you wiggle and jerk. With your hair in a loose messy bun, some strands wiggled free. But, your hair bun wasn’t to be presentable, it was to keep your locks from being covered in colors. 

He was hidden from view, making your eyes begin to wander around the bedroom instead. You tried to focus on the drying canvas that lay flat against the far wall, but it was too far away to make out. The room was filled with hints of you. Smaller shoes sat by the door next to his larger ones, and his bookshelf was littered with small gifts you’d given each other over time. 

Your eyes kept scanning the neutral hues until you landed on some pictures of the two of you together, highlighting the previously bare walls. It was home, a place for your heart to feel full and safe. His arms were also home, his scent was paradise, and his voice was your haven. 

“You’ve been very tense lately.” He began in a low tone. The mood of the room was spa-like as candles flickered, and ambient romantic music played on the radio.

“Hmm,” You adjusted your arms up above you on the sheets. “I’ve been told I carry my stress in my shoulders.”

His fingers tranced your shoulder blades, and he hummed. “Whoever told you that seems to have been right.” 

Vincent leaned over your body and dipped his broad brush into the pot. You prepared yourself for a quiet evening once he began. Your boyfriend had unparalleled focus; only a few people on this planet could ever master. Once he began in on a task, that was the only thing on his mind for miles. 

The first touch of the paintbrush to your spine made your eyes roll back. The liquid was warm to the touch and seemed to penetrate all the way down to your bones. Unlike his other attempts, the extra paint seemed to drip down the dips of your back. 

“Wow, what is that?” You inquired, wondering why he would let the paint drip in such a fashion. “What technique are you using?”

“Well,” He started off, voice soft and low. He dipped the brush again and began to run it along your waistline. “It’s not paint.” 

A moment passed while you wracked your brain to figure out just what he was doing. His lack of super-focus made you question whether he was actually creating something.  

“If it’s not paint, then what is it?” 

Vincent bent down and kissed your shoulder. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Take in your surroundings and tell me what you sense.”  

A long brush stroke ran from the bottom of your neck down to the roundness of your backside. Vincent continued the stroke until the brush ran down your calf to your ankle. Closing your eyes like he asked, you took in what information you could. 

The warm sensation radiating from the liquid was definitely strange. It felt amazing, like a small massage everywhere it covered. Taking in a deep breath, a wave of a scent you hadn't noticed washed over you. 

“Lavender?” You whispered. 

“Mhm,” He coaxed. “Yes, and what else?” 

The image of a garden flickered in your mind. “I smell roses.” You giggled when he flicked a checkmark on your back. 

“Correct! Lavender and rose oil mixed in with body oil.” He let the access oil drip along the back of your thighs before rubbing it in with the brush. “These fragrances promote restfulness and relaxation.”

Vincent dipped the brush into the third container and ran it along your neck. The warmth engulfed you, letting your heavy lids close at once. 

“Mmm…” You hummed, relaxing your shoulders as he ran the bristles over them. 

“What do you smell now?” He asked quietly. 

Memories of summer and a crisp relief from the heat floated in your mind. This scent laced with another fruity one that tickled your nose. 

“I feel like I can almost taste the fruit.” You melted further into the bed. 

“Yes.” He praised. “Apple fragrance helps curb anxiety, and the ylang-ylang gives you a sense of peace, relieves tension, and promotes a good night's sleep.” 

Your mind wandered the longer he painted the warm oils on your skin. A thought popped into your head, and you spoke it without much contemplation. 

“Isn’t ylang ylang known for being an aphrodisiac?” Your voice was quieter than the gentle music playing on the radio. 

He was silent for a long moment, swiping the brush in circular motions over your hips. 

“I don’t know,” He leaned in toward the back of your head. “Is it working?” Vincent’s whisper was as soft as silk. Your breath caught, and he chuckled. “I’m teasing, of course.” He snickered and went back to his task. 

Your body grew tenser the longer he brushed along your skin, contrary to what he was trying to accomplish. The thought of a more intimate touch set your heart on a race. The sensuality of the moment came crashing down, and you realized just how hot your body had become. Your skin became silted in a pink hue, either due to the heat of the oil or the internal inferno in your core.

“Vincent?” Your small voice muffled in the sheets. 

“Yes? Would you like more attention to a certain area?” He stated, concerned that he could be doing a much better job. “I’m sorry, this is my first time doing something like this.”

“No, no.” You shook your head and pressed your face into the bedding. “I was just… I wanted to tell you that I want more.” 

Your heart pounded in your ears. After a long pause, you turned your head to peek a look at him. If you hadn’t spoken up, you might have let the evening go by without letting him know just how much he affected you. 

His cheeks dusted in a peach color while he dipped the brush into a pot. The oil dripped over your thighs, and he ran the brush along the inner portion. 

“Like this?” The bristles teased the inner seam of your leg that met your torso. 

“Y-yes.” Your thighs relaxed open, and he took the liberty to explore more of you. 

After a long pause, he cleared his throat. “Your body is so gorgeous.” He whispered. “How you come alive for me is incredible.” 

The bristles ran along your outer lips, and you pressed your face hard into the bed. You could feel your core grow slick from the increasingly intimate touch alone. 

He took his time, making sure to run the brush along every inch of your center. The more he moved the tool, the more defined you could feel the bristles. He ran it between your slit in three-second intervals, moving up and up away from your bundle of nerves. 

“The longer I stroke you, the puffier your pussy gets. Do you like being teased?” His weighted words hung in the air as you held your breath.

“Uh, huh…” You agreed, grasping bedding and pulling it to your chest.

The brush moved down until he swiped it around, yet out of the way, of the spot you wanted it to touch the most. Scented oils mixed with your own lubricant while he purposefully missed the apex of your sex. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He taunted. 

Vincent’s touch made you jump. The sensation of his cold fingers was alien when you were so used to his paintbrush all this time. His fingertips slid along the curve of your ass down between your thighs. 

Your cheeks burned when you realized just what kind of view your boyfriend must be having right now. He sat back between your ankles while your legs were parted. He evidently had a fantastic display of your most intimate places. 

His fingers moved along your folds until they surrounded your summit. He didn't touch the nub but instead used his fingers to spread the hood back and expose the entirety of your clit. 

Whimpering, your legs jerked, wishing to close with embarrassment — what an excellent view he truly had that he could know precisely where to touch. 

“Why are you acting ashamed?” He wondered, moving the brush closer and closer to the exposed nub. “It’s just the two of us. You can relax with me.” Vincent urged. 

It was hard to relax while your heart galloped in your chest. You forced your legs to relax and open a fraction of an inch wider in good faith. 

The bristles, soaked in warm oils, finally met your swollen clit. The gasp you made caused Vincent to pause for a long moment. His ears perked up while his eyes watched your body language. He wondered if he’d hurt you at first but slowly realized the sensitivity you must be dealing with. 

He had teased you long enough that you felt your muscles tense with minimal effort. He swiped the brush over the exposed clit again. The moan you heard rip from your throat sounded foreign even to your own ears. You didn’t know you could sound so lewd in such a simple mewl. 

Pulling his fingers wider, he circled your clit with the brush until your hips bucked into the bed. You wanted to cry. It felt so good. Waves after wave radiated from that spot and washed over your entire being. 

The moans wouldn’t stop. They managed to grow louder and louder as he sped up. Vincent’s breathing was ragged the longer he played with your clit. 

“I-I want you. Can I have you?” He asked, moving the brush so quickly stars began to cloud your vision.

“You don’t have to ask.” You puffed out. The back of your neck began to break out into a sweat while your legs tensed and toes curled. “But let me... ah, just- I’m so close.” 

The bristles brought about a magical feeling against your sensitive skin. With every rotation, your muscles grew more and more taut. It was as if heated water bubbled to the top of the pot before it suddenly spewed over the edge. 

Your body pulsed over and over again, releasing and tensing your core muscles. The sensation of heat washed over you while your body climaxed with force. The last few pulses allowed you to catch your breath from the intense release. 

Vincent tossed the brush to the ground. His hand slipped under your stomach, and he pulled up your hips. His low hanging pants were pushed down over his hips, and his body aligned with yours. 

“I want you so bad, I- I need you.” He kissed along your spine toward your shoulder blade. 

Vincent's teeth scraped the nape of your neck before his lips tantalized your earlobe. Tingles arose on your arm with his immodest touch. 

He held your back to his chest while he slowly pushed his length past your folds. He moved slowly, allowing your hole to stretch in kind with his girth. Pieces of your hair began to fall out of your messy bun and frame your heated face. 

“Ah, Vincent.” Your hand came up, and you buried your fingers in his hair. 

The sense of touch and closeness you felt brought springs of love to life in your chest. You loved him, thoroughly and without any doubts. You knew he was the one, the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. With how much care he took of you and your body, you knew he felt the same. 

Vincent set a slow and shallow pace, making sure to lavish your neck with hundreds of tiny passionate kisses. 

“I love you,” He whispered, warm breath wafting over clammy skin. 

“I love you too. I love you so much.” Your hair fully came undone, unraveling with a spiral like a ribbon. Strands stuck to your forehead and neck, but you didn’t have a moment to mind. 

“I want to bite you, May I?” Rhythmic thrusting was evident in his tone. Vincent kissed his favorite spot below your ear.

“You don’t have to ask…” You used your fingers that were twined in his hair to push his lips harder onto your neck. 

He obliged, sucking lightly to inflame the area before ultimately sinking his teeth into the skin. It was like grabbing the hot end of a curling iron for a split second before the heat felt like that of the orgasm you'd just had. Pleasure raced to every inch of your body until you were entirely under his spell. 

With the combined rocking motion of his hips against your backside and his teeth piercing your neck, you quickly climaxed once more. Vincent moaned and drew your blood in harder with each pulse your tight walls made around his cock. 

You rocked your hips back into him with every thrust he made, egging him on. “You’re going to make me cum.” He moaned, finding a new spot to bite.

Vincent moved faster, filling the room with a mix of wet sounds and heavy panting. He raced to find his own release while indulging in your life force.

The outside world beyond the balcony lived on like normal. Branches rustled against the winds force while leaves broke off and chased the air. Cool weather wafted into the room, bustling up the curtains and smoothing over your heated skin. 

Gentle music on the radio lulled into a new song while Vincent gently held you close in his strong arms. The scent of lavender and sweat permeated the bedroom, leaving both parties coated in a slick sheen. 

.

.

.

When he said, “Let me paint you.” I took it a bit too literally.

Vincent saying “I’m teasing of course.” Took me 900 years not to write “...unless?” asldkfjlsd

Thank you for reading!

Masterlist is at the top of my blog~

[sidespromptblog]

Self: Part 1

Warning: Dysphoria, Trans Deceit (MTF), Hurt/Comfort, and Sympathetic Deceit.

Summary: There are times when Deceit feels free, free to be himself or to not be himself at all. 

Standing in front of the mirror that took up a good section of his wall, the fabric of a lengthy skirt flowed back and forth as it was pinched between two fingers that were painted black. A lazy almost serene smile darted over Deceit’s face as he looked at his own reflection, the smooth and silky shirt brushed against his legs in a most relaxing way earning a smile that honestly had felt so damn hard to put up anywhere else. Being here among his room, where he knew that no one else could see him, his dress up games, or the patches of scales he allowed the dim lighting and cool air of his room to finally touch. A place filled sigh swept through him as his eyes drifted shut for a moment, he could imagine it, never taking the skirt of, or in fact, taking the skirt off in order to replace it with one of his pretty sundresses that would just barely graze his knees.

“That would be nice...wouldn’t it?” He asked his reflection, as he released the fabric of his skirt letting the hem of the fabric fall against his ankles as he took a single step forward. His movements were slow, sluggish even as he rested his forehead against the mirror, the cold glass felt blissful against his warm skin. His stomach churned, “That would be nice.” He whispered again his bottom lip wobbling just for a second, before he captured it between his teeth holding it and his feelings captive for the time being.

Opening his eyes, he could already see it. A lovely flowery hat to keep the sun out of his face, black lipstick smeared to perfection along his bottom and upper lip, emerald green eye shadow that wonderfully accented his scales, and… And a wonderful open back sundress, letting his scales breath, all while allowing him to feel free.

For once.

His stomach churned again, and Deceit pulled away from the mirror, the wish he so desperately wanted to act on no more than a million lightyears away. There was no way it could ever happen, there was no way he could leave his room looking like that...looking like her. He might be Deceit, but even he had to accept some truths in his life, and this was one of them.

“I am not a her,” He sternly told his reflection, and the image grimaced with him after the sour lie left his lips, “They will not accept me, I cannot leave this room looking like this. I’m fine with pretending, it is what I do best. I am Deceit. I am Deceit. I am…” Another grimace as lies filled his mouth and throat, he wanted to choke on them, to not answer the awful churning in his stomach, to ignore the summons. But it would only bring more trouble in the end, that much he knew for certain. The others already suspected enough out of him, if he kept them waiting...it would only make Virg...no Anxiety more wary about his whereabouts.

So it was time to go.

The skirt came off in a flurry, and Deceit’s teeth ground together as he took a deep breath. Looking down at the normal looking black slacks he felt a hatred stirring inside of him, a bitterness that made him want to throw caution to the wind, to say screw it and just wear what he felt most comfortable with. But even he knew that he couldn’t do such a thing, it would be foolish even for him. None of the other sides wore dresses, none of them dressed in skirts, or wore makeup. He’d be a freak to them, or...at least more than he already was. They would turn on him in an instant.

The weight of the cloak on his shoulders felt like cinderblocks in compared to the constrained feeling of the pants around his legs. He wanted to crumple to the ground, to weep and sob, to..to beg for the relief.. The freedom of the skirt he had just worn moments ago.

But he couldn’t.

Sucking up every bit of emotion that tumbled around inside of him like a cyclone tearing up a trailer park, Deceit slipped his hat back into place with a heavily burdened sigh as his shoulders unconsciously sagged. “Here we go,” He plainly muttered barely a hint of disdain in his voice, and standing before his door his fingers just barely resting on the doorknob, he sank down with a sluggish and tired movement, time to put the mask back on and play the part he was born to play. As much as he hated it so, it did need to be done.

It was only upon arriving at the scene, that Deceit couldn’t have possibly regretted showing up any more than he already did. It wasn’t to say that things didn’t look bad, it was just that judging from the worn down, or rather downright exhausted looking sides it was very clear that not only was something wrong, but he had been summoned to somehow fix it. From Roman’s bedraggled appearance, the consistent frown that marred Patton’s tearstained face, Logan’s bone-weary appearance that gave him the look of someone who had been holding the world, Virgil who..honestly looked even more like a raccoon at this point just mere seconds away from breathing fire, and then there was Thomas.

Dear Thomas, who ran his fingers through his hair again and again as the dark circles under his eyes truly let on how little sleep he was getting. As well as the massive duvet that was draped over his shoulders, observing everything below his neck from view. It puzzled him honestly, as his eyebrows scrunched together in clear befuddlement. Just what was going on here, and...why exactly was he being called here in the first place? It was no secret that they hated him, no matter how much Patton had attempted to integrate him into the family, they hated him. That’s all there was to it, he wasn’t allowed around Thomas, much less Virgil, so…

“Why am I not in my bedroom?” The jumbled up mixture of words left his mouth in a heaping mess as his heterochromic eyes darted around, from each worn down side, lingering just a moment before his eyes eventually trailed on over to their host. But even then he couldn’t meet Thomas’ gaze, instead, he allowed his eyes to sink to the very bottom of the blanket that was draped like a cape around Thomas’ shoulders.

It took no time at all for the snarl to curl along Virgil’s lips as he took a single step forward, just to almost immediately be halted by Logan’s hand resting on his shoulder. “I don’t know Deceit, you certainly took your time getting here. Why don’t you tell us what’s going on? What have you been doing when we aren’t around? What schemes are you up to? What freakish-”

Virgil’s harsh biting words dissolved away like a mist inside Deceit’s brain as fear clenched its frozen fist over his heart and squeezed tight as soon as the other sides’ eyes all locked onto him, they were all waiting for an answer, something to tell them that he was either guilty or...well there was no other alternative to it. He would always be guilty in their eyes, wouldn’t he? He would have always done something wrong, be it showing up a little bit too late for a video, something going wrong with Thomas..or just anything in their life really. He would always do something wrong.

There was no escape..

No escape. No escape. No escape. No escape. No escape!

The fabric of his pants felt as it was strangling his lower body, twisting him and pulling him down into an ocean of fear, all while the weight of his cloak bore down on him more and more just waiting for him to bend and break under the weight. His clothing screamed at him, shrieking in his ears like the banshees of the night, taunting and harassing him as it seized him so tightly that it hurt his lungs to breathe. There was no escape, none and he would never get away from hi-

“Virgil! That’s enough!”

Deceit’s shoulders broke away from the tight grip that had held his shoulders captive as he struggled to breath in a single lungful of air. The word blurred and spun around him as Logan forced himself between the anxious side and Deceit, blinking rapidly the fog before him cleared and both Logan and Virgil’s worry filled face came into view. Their own exhaustion seemed to pale in comparison to the downright terror scrawled over their faces and in their eyes. And even so, it certainly didn’t stop Virgil from pressing against the logical side, attempting to get past him even now.

“He wasn’t breathing Logan,” Virgil hissed, a pure sense of desperation filling his words as Deceit stumbled back away from him, away from all of them as soon as Patton moved to touch his shoulder. The shoulder that still ached from Virgil’s impossibly tight grip, and from where the other side had tried to shake the life back into him when it appeared that he had truly died before their very eyes. “He was having a panic attack, I needed to snap him out of it before...before…” Deceit retreated backward yet again, as his face took on an unhealthy pale hue his back thumped solidly against the blinds where Patton most often stood.

His expression said it all, as his fists clenched and unclenched in tandem with his grinding teeth, silence filled the air between them before his gaze snapped back down to his hands. For a split solid second his tongue caught in his throat, where he had expected to see plain yellow gloves hiding his hands, hiding away the evidence of what had he had been doing in the safety of his room there was the glimmer of his nail polish on his fingernails looking back at him in the lighting of the living room. Fear curled in his throat like the sickly sensation of vomit rising back up.

In that very moment, as he looked back at the others he saw the truth on their faces as their eyes followed his own line of sight towards the damning evidence, and in that very moment as his mind whispered to him but one word and one word only. The very word that made his hat topple off of his head, as he ducked down before Patton could think to reach out, hell before Roman could even think to lunge forward and stop him. His inner voice told him but one thing.

Run.

And in that very moment, he was not Deceit, but rather Self-Preservation.

Tagged: 

@5am-the-foxing-hour

@th3okamid3mon

@icecoldparadise

[wonderlandmind4]

Delicate Stages Chp 20

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x OFC Ana Rios

Summary: Bucky Barnes agrees to participate in Deprogramming Sessions. What he gets is not anything like he expected.

Warnings: Language, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, mild PTSD, 

Words: 2.1k+ (short af, wtf.) @justreadingfics @nerdyandproud9 @buffy-morgendorffer-01

Bucky was still reeling after his nightmare, despite the fact that him and Steve walked around for an hour. He just couldn't seem to shake the feeling in his bones, made his hands tremble. Made his skin prickle like Hydra was lurking in the woods surrounding the compound, tentacles waiting to twist around him and drag him back to icy darkness. It took Steve's reassurance, and Ana's voice in his head to fully grasp that no one was watching him.

He replayed the image of Ana's concerned, brown eyes in his brain. Counted each of the nine golden flecks laced within the warm fibers. Focused on every number in his mind until he slowly began grounding himself. Focused on how she took her time with him, patient and brave. How she gently coaxed him back to reality with the delicate touch of her hands, of her powers wrapping him in safety. How she looked a little surprised but completely calm when Bucky had shielded her.

All his apprehension had disappeared though, when he found out Ana had passed out afterwards. For a wild fearful moment, Bucky had thought he might have lashed out at her. They told him he didn't, he hadn’t harmed her physically. They could have just told him that Ana was tired and went to sleep, but Vision deemed it important enough to tell him the truth.

It made his jaw clench along with his chest. It was not the first time he essentially made Ana passed out from exhausting her abilities; on him. He has a feeling it probably won't be the last. He also has a feeling that he can't do anything about it.

He wanted to talk it out with Ana, and when she asked it was on the tip of his tongue. However, the way she looked, utterly exhausted on the couch, skin unnaturally pale, eyes fluttering, breathing slightly labored, he decided against it. When she had fallen asleep again, with the cat curled up between them, Bucky had carefully picked her up and brought her to bed. He lingered long enough to carefully run his fingers through her hair before he forced himself to leave. He didn’t deserve to steal such a soft touch for himself.

Despite how many breathing exercises Bucky does in the morning, his anxiety just doesn't seem to want to leave. He's sitting on the desk, untouched cup of coffee next to him, hands gripping the edge of the wood. His senses are beyond heightened, even more so with the serum running through his veins. It's like he can feel everyone's eyes on him, searing into him as if they know Bucky is on the verge of internal panic.

The air around him is beginning to feel hot, prickling at his skin, sweat dampening his palm. His stomach churns and he has to swallow a few times to calm the bile threatening to rise. He wrings his hands together, the metal sliding smoothly, wetly, over his flesh. He bites his bottom lip because he can feel it trembling and the last thing he wants to do is appear weak in front of Ana.

Bucky takes a peak at her, wondering if she has noticed that he's internally having a meltdown. She isn't looking at him though. Instead, she pulls a small red packet from her pant pocket, rips it open and dumps out small, colorful candies. She tosses the packet in the trash then finally looks up at him.

"Sort them by color." Ana instructs simply.

"What?" Bucky asks bemused, and he hates how shaky his voice sounds in his ears.

“The Skittles. I would like you to sort them by color.”

"Now?”

"Please.”

It's a pool of color, scattered among the surface. With one last quick glance at Ana, her expression patient and calm, he begins to sort them. He picks out the greens ones first, sliding them gently into their own little pile. Then he goes for yellow, repeating the same notion. He slides the purples together, then the oranges. Red is the last color that just needs to be set into a neat pile. He's done.

"Which colors have more?" Ana inquires him next.

He looks at the colorful piles of candy and sees that the least amount is purple. Then red, yellow, green and orange. He repeats this to Ana, using his index finger to nudge them together tighter. It turns out to be a lost cause, because Ana steals two red ones. Bucky watches her pop them in her mouth, chewing gleefully.

"Without knowing flavors of the candy," She begins around her chewing. Bucky watches her throat bob as she swallows. "Which color would you eat first?”

He considers this. "Green.”

She picks up a green one and eats it. "Green is lime. Yellow is lemon. Orange is, well, orange. Purple is grape, and red is strawberry.”

"No wonder you ate it." Bucky quips.

Ana scrunches her nose in a mocking smile. She pushes the green pile closer to his hand. "Try one."

He does. He tries all of them. He's pleasantly surprised to like the green more than the others, but the red does come as a close second. Together they share the candy, until Ana swipes her hand over them to mix them up. Bucky glares at her, then fixes them again of his own accord, ignoring her soft chuckles.

"Are you feeling better?" She questions, after they finish the candy.

"What do you mean?" Bucky frowns quizzically. 

"You look like you were about to have a panic attack. Do you feel better?"

She did notice. Bucky shouldn't be surprised in the slightest. At this point, he doesn't even think it’s her ability anymore, just Ana being Ana being attentive to him. He doesn't know when it happened or when a line blurred, but suddenly, they can't seem to hide anything from each other anymore. Both open books now.

"Is that why you told me to sort them? Because you knew?" Bucky asks, feeling a small smile spread across his lips.

Ana returns it. "Yes. You've been looking a little off kilter this morning. Did you end up getting any sleep?"

Bucky shakes his head. Ana opens her mouth, but he beats her to it. "No, Annie, I wasn't going to wake you. You needed the rest.”

The pout on Ana's lips shouldn't be as endearing as it is. Bucky ducks his head down, makes it easier for her to gently tug on his hair in retaliation for the nickname. She nudges his mug over to him, and he finally picks it ups, taking a rather large gulp. It's lukewarm at best.

"Did you know," Ana starts, stretching her legs out until her boots rest next to Bucky's thigh. "The color green is associated with growth, which makes sense since, you know, earth. It's also associated with renewal and harmony. It's known among Empaths as having a healing power. It's the most relaxing color to the human eye."

Bucky tilts his head curiously. He did not know this. He remains silent, content to listen and learn the inner workings of Ana's mind. He subtly moves his thigh closer to her boots, just so when she moves them back and forth, they tap against his leg.

"Green is soothing." She continues. "It also can help alleviate anxiety while bringing a sense of hope with it."

Slowly, it dawns on him. "Are you saying that's why I chose green?"

"Possibly." She grins at him, taps her foot harder against his thigh. "Psychological colors. I'm saying you chose it because it was the most calming to you at the moment."

Bucky is silent for several moments, debating. "I can't shake that dream from my mind." He  quietly admits. Her expression falls into her open, nonjudgmental one. He wonders if she even realizes she does that. "They found me. Dragged me back to their hell. I could almost feel how real that chair was, could feel it pressing against my head."

Ana's face changes, her brows furrowing and her mouth tilting down. Her eyes shine, the golden dots glittering in the sunlight streaming in. She looks as if she is feeling his own pain, feeling his terror from the night before. She pressed her foot harder into his thigh, her calf also a solid touch. It grounds him.

"When you came in the room," He continues in a whisper. "I couldn't see you for a moment, everything was so jumbled. I thought maybe-" He jerks his head. "But then you were there and everything in my mind faded away. All I saw was you."

"I'm so sorry, Bucky." Ana replies softly. She takes her legs down, leaning forward and placing her hand on his knee instead.

Bucky puts his right hand over hers, squeezing her knuckles. "I just appreciated you being there. You didn't have to do your energy thing. You never have to do that but you do, and I...thank you. Again."

"I am going to do everything I can to help you, so you don't feel like that anymore." Ana tells him, determination gleaming in her eyes.

Bucky smiles ruefully at her. "That's what I'm afraid of. That you take on what I feel, and that can be indescribably chaotic." He shakes his head like he's shaking up his thoughts. "Thing is, they're not even nightmares most of the time. I think they're memories. I don't know what's real during that time, Ana. I don't want you feeling any of that."

Ana moves her hand from his knee to the middle of his chest. There's a softness around her beautiful eyes. It's the small melancholy tilt of her lips gives away the possibility that she has already felt some form of chaos in her life. Bucky's eyes flicker down to the scars on her wrist, then back to her.

"Remember what I told you?"

"You tell me a lot of things." He states. He remembers all of them.

A glint of a laugh flashes through her eyes. "Feel with your heart. Ground yourself. You just need to take a moment to ground yourself."

"I felt you." Bucky confesses without meaning to. It's the truth though, and he wants her to know it. "I saw you standing there, through the dark, but I couldn't be sure. Until you touched my hand." He places his right hand over hers on his chest. "That's what brought me back to reality."

Ana looks a little dazed, so Bucky squeezes her hand lightly. He hopes that admission wasn't too much too soon. They've never really had a timeline of that anyway, practically just jumping into deep waters the moment they met. He is just being honest with her, despite it making him feel flushed all over his body as if the room is overheated. It's not, it's just Bucky staring at Ana as she peers back at him. He wonders if she can feel how fast his heart is beating.

Blinking twice, Ana finally stutters, "G-good. That's, uh, good."

His lips spread into a smile of their own accord. He is always baffled how Ana stumbles over herself at times, since she has always been this confident, smart, spitfire of a woman. He wants to say something else, something that might make this moment deeper, or even something that might dissipate this intriguing tension between. He doesn't get to say anything though, for a shadow shifts over Ana's shoulder, and Bucky lifts his eyes to see someone coming up to them.

He tightens his hold on her hand, ready to pull her close if need be. Instead, a file is slapped down on the desk next to Ana. She jumps, her expression immediately morphing into an irritated one, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling. It looks like she wants to rip the file thrower a new one, until she spins around realizing who it is. Ana takes her hand away from Bucky's chest, his fingers lingering a little too long.

"You suck." Ana says flatly.

"New information on that power plant." Tony tells her, sliding the file across the desk. He makes eye contact with Bucky, giving him a nod of acknowledgement. 

"I already told you, Tony," She slides file back without opening it. "I'm not a field agent. I don't have that type of training."

Stark scoffs. "Sure you don't."

"I think that's a lie." Bucky pipes up, agreeing with Stark. He's one hundred percent sure she has some hidden skills.

"No one appreciates your comments, Bucky." Ana teases, poking his shin. To Tony she says, "Just have Hawkeye shoot his electrical arrows at the damn thing. Problem solved."

"C'mon, lunch is on me today." Tony states, ignoring her comment. "We'll talk about it over falafels."

When Ana spins back to face Bucky she rolls her eyes and he has to hold back a laugh. "It's not like I'm busy or anything."

"Barnes too." He calls as he begins to walk away. "Don't forget the file."

Bucky and Ana share a look, both surprised that the invite. She shrugs, grabs the file and stands. She waits for Bucky to do the same, her hand squeezing his forearm in a silent question. He flashes her a reassuring smile. They can finish talking later if need be. Apparently, they stand there for too long just smiling at each other, for Tony calls out to them.

"Today, please!"

*******************************************************************************************

Previous   Next

[meditativeyoga]

Yoga for Balance Training: Why Static Poses Don`t Cut It

" Last weekend break at a garage sale I was carrying a box as well as tripped. Not only did I keep my equilibrium and also not drop, I really did not even drop package. This wouldn't have actually taken place 6 months earlier. I understand my equilibrium has actually improved many thanks to Jennifer's water yoga class."

My employer showed me the e-mail he received from 82-year-old Miss Bessie just recently. Miss Bessie has actually been taking my water yoga class and my routine water aerobics course, where we finish every class with a series of equilibrium difficulties, for concerning six months currently. I'm constantly telling my yoga exercise course that exercising balance in the safety of the water will certainly additionally enhance their equilibrium on land.

Miss Bessie is currently my most singing supporter of water yoga exercise and also balance method. She's encouraged rather of a few of her pals to go to class.

It's never ever as well very early to begin thinking about your equilibrium. All ages must practice equilibrium workouts as well as the earlier you start, the far better. Inning accordance with the Centers for Condition Control as well as Prevention, an older adult falls every second of everyday. Falls are the top reason for injury, as well as fatality from injury, in the older population. (www.cdc.gov/steadi)

Risk Factors for Falling:

Vitamin D deficiency

Certain prescription and over the counter medications

Vision problems

Environmental dangers such as broken actions, unsafe toss rugs or lack of assistance rails

Difficulty walking or with balance

Keys to Healthy Balance

No issue the age, a person's capacity to maintain balance depends upon three significant parts:

Sensory systems to communicate details about your body's placement in space,

The brain's capability to process this info,

The muscular tissues and joints collaborating to maintain balance.

Normally these actions occur automatically as well as instantly. However, inner ear infections, diabetic neuropathy in the feet or lessening vision prevail disorders in the older populace that can alter the sensory systems. The brain's capacity to process this info can additionally be modified because of degenerative disease or the results of collected injuries.

Yoga for Autumn Avoidance: 5 Moving Balance Poses

Yet falls don't need to be an inevitable truth of the aging process. With correct testing and reliable avoidance strategies, the risk of falling could be significantly decreased.

Water yoga exercise courses are a wonderful method to start a yoga exercise balance technique because the buoyancy of the water aids support the body. If a student does drop out of the yoga posture, they won't strike the floor as in a conventional yoga class. I advise my yoga pupils routinely that balancing in the water will transfer to enhanced equilibrium ashore. As a matter of fact, Miss Bessie is just one of my many water yoga pupils who has transitioned to my senior chair-based yoga exercise course on land!

When intending a fall avoidance yoga course, it is essential to keep in mind that most falls don't occur from a standing still setting. Rather, like Miss Bessie above, a fall is extra likely to happen when you are relocating or transitioning. It's important for yoga classes with older trainees to work on streaming equilibrium poses. I such as to move the movements concerning three times prior to holding the final position for three to five breaths.

Warrior I to Tree Pose

From a Virabhadrasana I (Warrior I Pose), ask pupils to move the weight forward right into their front foot.

Slowly and

mindfully bring the back knee up, open the hip and also find Vrksasana (Tree Posture)

Then release back right into Warrior I.

More progressed trainees could move in between Crescent Lunge Posture and Tree Posture.

Side-to-Side Goddess Squat.

Beginning with feet with each other, take a huge step to the right.

Turn your feet external and also flex your knees to make sure that they are straightened over your heels. Hold for three breaths.

Step the right foot back and also repeat on the left.

Warrior II to Balancing Half Moon Present

From Virabhadrasana II (Warrior II Posture), move the weight ahead and slowly raise the back leg right into Ardha Chandrasana (Fifty percent Moon Pose). Hold for 3 breaths.

Slowly and with control, go down the back leg back into Warrior II.

Mountain to Warrior III

Standing in a high, solid Tadasana (Mountain Posture), prolong arms onward and slowly bring the appropriate leg right behind. Hold for concerning 3 breaths.

Then reduced the leg back to Mountain Pose.

Fierce Pose to One Knee Up

From Mountain Posture, drop the hips as well as increase the arms to Utkatasana (Intense Posture).

On the inhalation, stand high bringing one knee up in front of the body, holding under the upper leg if necessary.

General Consideration when Exercising Yoga for Balance

Your students will certainly find their balance is more powerful on one side versus the various other. This is perfectly typical, as well as why it's so essential to practice equilibrium poses on both sides of the body! The dominant side of the body is normally stronger as well as could stabilize much longer. However, this creates more pressure and threat to the dominant side, while at the very same time additional weakening the non-dominant side and producing added stress on the joints.

Be sure to encourage using props as well as adjustments in autumn prevention yoga courses. A trainee with equilibrium concerns may find also a block on the flooring also difficult to make use of for support. Students instead can utilize a chair or the wall for assistance. They might not have to utilize the chair or wall surface each course, however in some cases, feeling in one's bones assistance is available suffices to obtain over the worry of falling.

Ask students to stand to the side of the chair for Tree Pose. If they need equilibrium assistance, they can position just one hand on the chair. Sometimes I'll also say just area one finger on the chair if you can.

The flooring appears far to someone afraid of falling, so in Balancing Half Moon Pose, bring the bottom hand to the seat of the chair as opposed to a block on the floor.

Goddess Squat ought to be done behind the chair. As the students removal side to side, they have the chair back to hold on to for assistance. If I have a trainee who is really having problem with balance, I will certainly motivate her to stand in front of the chair. I advise her as her hips press back into the squat, the chair seat is appropriate underneath her in case she really feels the should rest down.

Of course, make sure the chair is strong and protected. Rubber stoppers on the leg bases or positioning the chair on a yoga mat will quit it from slipping or removaling unexpectedly.

Challenge your yoga pupils to raise their equilibrium time. Begin with 2 breaths gradually raising to five deep breaths. Or, as your trainees obtain more powerful, urge them to briefly shut their eyes in the standing equilibrium poses.