dental masks

10

Victorian sleep mask - linen

Dental phantom - used to teach at schools of dentistry

European executioner’s mask - pre 1700

Executioner’s mask - late 19th century

Mother and Child Gas Masks - 1938

Horned helmet given to King Henry VIII by the Emperor Maximilian I - 1514

6th grade Teachers on Nuclear Weapon Day - 1957

Firefighter’s Rescue masks - left c.1880, right c.1914

Isolator helmet worn by early science fiction author Hugo Gernsback was used to eliminate external noises for concentration when writing - from Science and Invention magazine - July, 1925

B a d r u m m e t


badrum - bathroom
bad - bath
badkar - bathtub
dusch - shower
duschkabin - shower stall
duschhuvud - shower head
sjunka - sink
kran - faucet
dränera - drain
dräneringspropp - drain stopper
bubbelbad - bubble bath
tvål - soap
schampo - shampoo
balsam - conditioner
badsalt - bath salts
varmt vatten - hot water
varmvatten - warm water
ljus - candle
handduk - towel
badhandduk - bath towel
badrock - bathrobe
tofflor - slippers
luffa - loofah
svamp - sponge
nagelborste - nail brush
nagelklippare - nail clippers
hårborste - hair brush
hårtork - hair dryer
tandborste - toothbrush
tandkräm - toothpaste
munvatten - mouthwash
tandtråd - dental floss
ansiktsmask - facial mask
att ta en dusch - to take a shower
att tvätta - to wash up
att bada - to bathe
att dränka - to soak
att skrubba - to scrub
att koppla av, att slappna av - to relax
avslappning - relaxation
avkopplande - relaxing
lugnande - calming
Du stinker! - You stink!
Jag är snuskig / smutsig. - I’m filthy.
Jag ska ta ett bad. - I’m going to take a bath.
Försök att inte drunkna! - Try not to drown!

028. Missed Events

LIAM:
“We can’t wait any longer.” You were informed for the third time, but you didn’t mother looking at which scrub clad nurse was talking to you. Your eyes were focused on the swinging wooden door of your hospital room, private as requested by Liam when you first found out your due date. You really didn’t want to push until he was there or until someone came into notify you that he was nearby. While you were dilated nine centimeters, you were trying to clench your thighs together. A nurse actually pried your knees apart and uncrossed your ankles, giving you a stern look as if you were a misbehaved high school student and not a married woman in labor.


“Miss Payne, you have to push.” The doctor’s voice was stern and clear even behind his dental mask.


“Five more minutes.” You reasoned, throwing up your hand to display five fingers in case they didn’t know how many minutes five was. Your teeth ground together tightly as you grunted through a strong contraction. They were closer and closer now and you were no longer wondering where Liam was and hoping for him to get there to share this moment with you, you just needed him there to smack around and relive your pain on.


“You don’t have five minutes.” He was sort of kind about it this time, Dr. Lancaster, and you didn’t need to see his mouth to know he was frowning at you sort of sympathetically.


You had arrived at the hospital thanks to your best friend seven hours ago, where was Liam? The second you started to wobble to the elevator of your building, you called him and told him what was going on. Well, you told his stage manager’s assistant since he was impossible to reach. However, he had called you since you settled into the first room and said that he was at the Athens International Airport, getting on a private plane. As soon as your contractions began that afternoon, you regretted letting him go on a last minute promotional tour. It was just two weeks and you weren’t due for four, but you felt now like you should have anticipated this. It was because Liam had been annoying you that day and your hormones were out of whack, that was why you agreed.


“He’ll be here soon, though. It’s just a four hour flight.” You tried, but the pain was growing strong and your body was giving little pushes without permission.
“Miss Payne, you need to push.” Firmly, a nurse instructed you like Liam did when he was teaching you how to drive years ago. She offered you her hand as Liam’s father, dressed in scrubs, bustled in taking the place of his son. Strangely, the first thing you thought was how much you didn’t want your father-in-law to see so much as a centimeter of your vagina.


Thankfully, Geoff Payne stayed behind your shoulders the rest of the delivery and since he had a lot of practice, he was an excellent coach and his hand worked as a decent stressball. He even pat down your sticky head with a cool towel every so often without you having to whine. Even more thankfully, after nine hours of labor, you had a healthy baby girl, Allison Payne, six pounds nine ounces.


The room was dark when you woke up, groggy, and the only light coming through the windows was from the streetlamps outside in the car park. The sound of sneakers squeaking on the ground caused your head to roll in the other direction and through the darkness, holding a bouquet of tulips in one hand and a small teddy bear in the other, Liam tip toed towards your bedside.
“I’m so sorry.” He whispered to you, his voice shaking in it’s hush tone as he leaned in and kissed you, your lips chapped from all your yelping and gnawing throughout the labor. “I really did try, hon.” His eyes were heavy from the guilt he had loaded into them. On top of missing the birth of his first born child, he hadn’t been there for you as the partner in crime, as the husband and father. He felt like the sorriest excuse for a man as he collapsed in the chair beside your hospital bed. Liam hadn’t just brought life into the world, but he had worn himself out from freaking out all day and trying to get to you. “I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have even contemplated it.” Two weeks premature hadn’t even seemed like a possibility to him then, but he should have taken everything into account. You were very pregnant, anything could have happened.


Reaching a finger to your lips, you shushed your husband in the dark. Right now, you were still basking in the new joy of becoming a mother. He could apologize all day every day to you and your baby, but right now, you just wanted to be happy with him the way you two were supposed to be.


“She’s so sweet. She’s got a big thick head of brown hair already.” You whispered as if she was in the room and you two might wake her up with your actual speaking voices.


“It’s a girl?” Liam leaned forward, the gifts resting on the small night table, as he rested his elbows on his knees and wiped both palms down his face. He couldn’t believe it. The guys had a pool going of whether or not you two would have a boy or girl. It looked like Louis was the only winner. “Where is she? I need to hold her.” He looked around, rising out of the chair.


“We’ll have to get a nurse to bring her.” You reached and held his hand, his grip firm on yours like he was silently promising to never let go. “Allison.” You shared with him. “Allison Orla Payne.”


Liam couldn’t help, but chuckle and lightly shake his head at you before leaning in and giving you the kind of kiss reserved for special moments that called for champagne. Allison was high on your list of baby names, but Liam was always on the fence about it. Orla he liked though. He had seen the name in a magazine randomly and couldn’t stop saying it. Right now though, it was perfect. He was thrilled to have an Allison.

HARRY:
You were supposed to sit up close, one of the first few rows of pews, but you sent Harry a last minute text out of urgency that you would sit at the very back and save him a spot. Unfortunately, Sunday service conducted itself without him and you desperately wished that something exciting would happen like a hip hop gospel choir would emerge through the doors, a man would randomly go into cardiac arrest, or even one of the three pregnant ladies would begin to give birth right then and there on the carpeted floor of the Manchester church. In fact, you wouldn’t have been upset if all three things happened at once. Church was dragging on and it was not a good distraction for your mind that was racing with wonder of where Harry was.


After the service, you stood still in the busy reception hall that was buzzing with so much static and noise. While it was a wonderful turn out, you felt out of place without Harry by your side. These were all friends you had made through your three years of being his girlfriend after all and he was generally the main event to your side show whether he admitted it or not. Carefully holding your newly baptized godson in your arms, you fawned over him delicately. Most people had been flocking to little Ian nonstop, but he had started to kick up a little fuss and his mother handed him straight to you for some quiet time.
“[Y/N], there you are.” Out of breath, Harry’s unmistakable voice sighed as he walked closer and closer to you, greeting people the entire way.


Paying close attention to your hand under Ian’s bald little head, fresh from the cold holy water, you met Harry halfway, the look of disapproval on your face not at all complimentary to your cotton sundress.


“What took you?” It didn’t really matter since the christening was over now, but you asked out of reflex.


“Traffic.” He merely muttered, fixing his suit jacket, and then reaching out for his godson to hold, but you kept Ian knit in your arms instead. Harry didn’t know what he was more jealous of - you bogarting Ian or Ian being swaddled against your chest. “I had to run to sign a couple things, so I didn’t get on the road until later…”


Suddenly, you were glad you had hitched a ride with Ian’s parents, Ben and Meredith Winston to the church instead of waiting for Harry.


On one hand, there was really only so much Harry could help. His life always had him being pulled in different directions. You were used to it, but this was a major responsibility that he had agreed to. They had asked for you both to be godparents to their first born and that meant dropping anything and everything at a moment’s notice for the boy. You didn’t want to be spending your Sunday in Manchester and in a church, but you made the sacrifice willingly and almost happily. You had things you could have been doing, an Ikea bookshelf waiting in a box for you at your flat.


“Look, I know.” Harry sighed exasperatedly. Your face was doing all the talking with your eyes glazed over on him like marinade for a chicken breast. “Is Ben cross with me?” Harry asked, reaching for the baby again. When you still refused to give Ian up, you joined Harry’s eyes in search for Ben Winston somewhere in the crowded room of church goers, family, and finger sandwiches. You were surprised that Harry wasn’t shoveling mini ham and cheese pieces into his mouth since you doubted he stopped for food on the way over.


“I don’t think he’s terribly impressed.” You delivered the news dryly. It was what it was and you both knew that Ben would understand.


“Well, lucky for me, Ian won’t remember today, will you, bud?” He peered down at the bundle dressed in a white frock for his fancy day.


“They filmed it.” Once again, you gave him a little more bad news and smiled at how Harry sighed and shook his head at himself.


“How was he?” Harry asked and you finally decided to give the little baby up, delicately moving him from your embrace into Harry’s arms. It was a slow process, but you wanted to be sure Harry and Ian were both ready. Harry was already the bad godparent, you didn’t want to outshine him by dropping Ian onto the hard floor below.


“He cried. His poor bald head dipped into an ice bowl and he had no Godfather around.” You pouted dramatically, but it was tough to resist poking fun at Harry, rubbing a little salt into his handmade wound.


“It won’t happen again.” Harry hissed and, after rolling his eyes, gave you a kiss on the side of the head while rocking Ian to sleep in his own arms.


LOUIS:
You had told him over the phone, through texts, and to his face not to bother. Louis was the master at keeping impossible promises, but you still always felt like you had to tell him it was no big deal. His life thrived on stress, it was always causing him to run around like a chicken without a head, so you wanted to be his relaxtion. When it came to you, you didn’t want Louis to have any worries at all. However, he always went out of his way to make sure you knew that you were as high a priority as anything One Direction related. That was why he was so hellbent on being there in the crowd along with your parents, cousins, grandparents, and everybody else when you graduated from University. He was proud of you. He hadn’t ever worked towards higher education and he had watched you for the last nineteen months grind and grind to earn your degree.


It was a long three hour ceremony since the faculty was large and the speeches were generous, but you raced to the car park in your black flats, red graduation gown flapping around in the wind while holding the matching cap you had caught after tossing yours up merrily along with the rest of the graduates.
You hugged your grandparents first, their cameras all ready to go, and delighted in having your entire family there. They snapped pictures proudly as you stood around and reveled in the moment. You were done. You had accomplished what you wanted even though there had been plenty of times over the course of four years where you just wanted to throw in the towel and go digging ditches for the rest of your life. As conversation began to die, your family ready with a spot in mind for a celebratory lunch, you found your mother’s stare as she looked at you with an apologetic stare and the kind of smile that said ‘uh oh’.


“I know Louis isn’t here, Mom.” You told her before she gave you the news. It was a process of elimination really since everyone who said they would be there was in front of you except for him. “It’s okay.” You told her and yourself first before taking the time to make eye contact with everyone else and assure them the same sentiment. “Let’s go eat. Seriously, I’m starved.”
Of course, it wasn’t okay. The disappointment was sitting inside of you like a sunken rock, but you knew that Louis hadn’t missed your graduation on purpose. You knew that he tried and were confident that he was going to do everything he could to make it up to you. This was just part of dating Louis, you had accepted that the first time you let him buy you breakfast all that time ago.


ZAYN:
“I want to die.” He sighed, his head hanging low as his eyes closed. Zayn moved some of his dark hair back as he stared at his knees, focused on nothing, but how terrible he felt. You didn’t know him to be melodramatic, your husband, so you couldn’t help but let a corner of your lips rise at his words. You knew he felt awful about being away right now and really was nursing some emotional bruises, so you straightened out your mouth as soon as he looked back at you and your bouncing nine month old son on your lap.


“Don’t say that, Zayn. That’s morbid.” Not only did you not want to hear that from his mouth or imagine it, you didn’t want little Joshua Malik to have those words said around him. Yes, he was only nine months old, but his brain was a sponge and you didn’t want it absorbing any negative energy. “There are other milestones that you will get to be here for.”


You hadn’t meant to depress Zayn by sending him a video of your son’s first steps, outside in Camden Market of all places, but you wanted to share it with him. It was a monumental event after all and Zayn knew that going to Los Angeles to record the a few songs for the new album meant possibly missing Josh’s first steps. The boy was standing with the help of furniture and other people’s hands when Zayn left for the airport sixteen days ago after all.
“I can’t believe I missed it.” He mumbled, adoringly watching your baby boy through the screen as he exhaled out his disappointment in himself. “Fuck this.” He grunted and while you wished he wouldn’t in front of Josh, you knew that would never change. Birds flew, fish swam, Zayn swore.


NIALL:
He was running up the stairs to the bedroom, but skipping the steps like an elephant marching. You could hear a string of mildly inaudible curses leave his mouth in a low whisper as he mumbled to himself. You were sitting up in bed with your textbook open on your lap, going over the chapter of mitosis and wondering how you ever understood this back in high school when Niall burst through the room like a ball of fire.


“I’m sorry!” He threw out loudly, shouting it at you and gripping both sides of the door frame.


“I know.” Simply, you said and smiled to yourself without looking up.


“I really tried. I kept leaving, but they wanted one more take, and then another, and then another.


"I know.” You repeated yourself again as he was trying to catch his breath. For someone who performed on stage at a high energy level for a living, he was really in poor shape when it came to cardiovascular endurance.


“And someone had a kid who they wanted a signed shirt for.”


“I know.”


You hadn’t actually been notified by anyone that Niall was held up at the studio or that one of the engineers wanted an autograph for their child, but you knew that Niall would have reasonable excuses for why tonight didn’t go as planned.
“Are you upset?” He asked, squinting his face together in order to prepare himself for your answer. “Fuck. Of course, you are. You should be.” He rattled off.
“I’m not upset. I was, but that was two hours ago.” Slowly, you looked up at him and smiled, throwing back a few stray strands of hair with one hand and looking him over. He really did look beat. “There’s cake in the fridge and garlic toast. The restuarant gave it to me for free out of pity.” They didn’t recognize you as Niall’s girlfriend and just assumed you were some sad sack who had been stood up at a very fancy Italian bistro. To make matters worse, you had told your server that it was your one year anniversary with your boyfriend and it caused him to pout at you and talk in a baby voice all night like you would break into a million little pieces otherwise.


“Fuck. I’m the worst.” Niall didn’t care about anniversaries and trivial things like that, but he cared about you and he had actually been looking forward to celebrating this milestone with you. He was really proud of this relationship since it had been his first adult one and he felt like he had treated it like a second place ribbon tonight. Kicking off his sneakers, he made his way over to the bed and crawled over you. He wanted to rest his head on your chest, but your heavy textbook was blocking his opportunity. “We can celebrate our anniversary now.” He tried to sound optimistic.


“Our anniversary ended a half hour ago.” Mindlessly, you informed him and then closed your book loudly on your lap. It was clear Niall wasn’t about to let you get any real studying done. His hands were massaging your legs over the comforter.
“Well, this is just the anniversary of when we decided we were an official monogmous union.” He quoted exactly what you had called it that day a year ago. “What if we wait four days and celebrate our sex anniversary as our anniversary?” He suggested, that was when he considered the relationship the real deal anyway.


“Nope. Sorry. You missed it. Better luck next year.” You shrugged, trying to keep a straight face as you moved the book from your lap to the floor.
Niall grabbed both sides of your face and shook his head at you, frustrated. He just wanted to do something nice for you, commerate the occasion somehow.
“You’re making my guilt worse by not getting mad at me, you know?” He grunted at you, wishing you would just start whining already so you two could move on.


“I know.” You grinned like a cat that just ate a canary and laughed. “Go get me the pity cake please.” If he wanted back in your good books, he was going to have to let you eat the whole slice without so much as trying a nibble. 

Because He Grinds ----> an olicity drabble fic

“This. Is. Ridiculous. Felicity.”

Felicity ignored Oliver and continued to fill out the form the receptionist had just handed them.

“I don’t need a mouth guard.”

Oliver shoved off from the chair and began to pace the tight waiting room. A mom and her preteen son watched him, the mom pulling her son closer into her side.

Felicity rolled her eyes when Oliver reached the end of the room in three strides and stopped short with his nose almost pressed to the glass of a framed poster. He took a step back and glared, actually “Arrow” scowled at the poster showing the horrors of not flossing regularly.

He sighed, dramatically, and turned to stomp back. But the office door opened just then, flung wide and flung shockingly hard by a little blond pixie in pigtails and a green fairy outfit.

“DON’T WORRY!” the little girl yelled as she planted herself akimbo in the center of the tiny room. “The Tooth Fairy Tinkerbell is here!”

“What the?!” Oliver was muttering and rubbing his chin that had stopped the door.

“The Tooth Fairy, silly!” The little girl hopped over and gripped Oliver’s hand with both of hers. He looked up in confusion but Felicity continued to fill out the forms.

“Uh,” he forced a smile.

But the fairy’s mother joined them at that point, offering an apology as she steered her chatting daughter away.

Oliver resumed his seat at Felicity’s elbow. “Why are you the one filling those out anyway?”

She tipped her head to look at him. “Really? You want to do the paperwork.”

He shrugged. “It is my dentist appointment, so, I guess I should.”

She grinned. “Is that your way of asking? Because I have no desire to do these. I just thought it would be faster.”

“Faster than the person the forms belong to?”

“Ok, here.” She shoved the clipboard into his chest and sat back, grabbing the only slightly old celebrity magazine from a pile and starting to flip through it.

Oliver cleared his throat and focused. Felicity watched out the corner of her eye. She saw him skip a few lines and boxes, fill in a few things, and skip more.

After a couple minutes, he growled. “Fine.” He presented the clipboard and forms back to her and she chuckled. “Oh be quiet. I had five y—”

“Oh no! You can not keep using that excuse!” She pressed her finger to his lips to shush him, and her laugh caught in her throat.

He didn’t move. He just looked back at her, his eyebrows raised, his hand still holding one end of the clipboard. Felicity stopped talking and let out a tiny, shuddering breath before she yanked her finger away and yanked the clipboard away as well.

They sat silently as Felicity finished the forms. Oliver sat as still as a statue except for his index finger and thumb of his right hand. He couldn’t stop, or didn’t notice, them fidgeting and rubbing.

It was a nervous tell and Felicity inwardly sighed. “Why don’t you like the dentist? You were fine at the doctor.”

He stopping his fingers by making a fist. He took a deep breath. “I, uh, I get claustrophobic, sort of…when…I can’t swallow or close my mouth until they say…” His fingers started up again.

Felicity reached out and covered his hand with hers. “Ok.” He glanced at their hands and then up at her face. She smiled, trying to tell him she knew he was talking about the torture that they never talk about.

He nodded. “Thanks for filling them out,” he stood suddenly, took the clipboard and walked over to the desk to hand them in.

The following four minutes of waiting for his turn were the longest in history. She pretended to do stuff on her phone while he pretended he was fine just sitting next to her when all he wanted to do was run out, suit up, and pick a fight.

“Oliver Queen?” called a dental assistant from the doorway to the back.

“You, uh, want me to come with you, or, wait here…?” But instead of speaking, he gripped her hand and threaded their fingers. She smiled through her surprise at the tender act and nodded.

“How are you today, Oliver?” The dental assistant chatted but never really seemed to wait for an answer, which was fine with the two friends awkwardly holding hands behind her. “And here’s us, go ahead and have a seat in the chair, your friend can sit there,” the dental assistant motioned and smiled.

“Thanks,” Felicity pulled her fingers from Oliver’s and tried to ignore the flutter she felt as he looked around quickly to see where she was.

“So you think a night bite guard is in order, huh?” Oliver just nodded.

“Yeah, he…has, had, uh, a stressful job and grinds his teeth, so,” Felicity blushed when the dental assistant raised her eyebrows. “I mean, he says he doesn’t grind but he does, clenches his jaw a lot and grinds, er, I mean, not that I know, like first hand.”

Oliver’s lips twitched.

“Ok, we will just start with a cleaning since you are past due, and then the dentist will come examine and then make a mold if needed, ok?”

Again he just nodded. “Oh!” Felicity slid her chair closer so she could look over Oliver to the dental assistant. “He gets a little claustrophobic when he can’t close his mouth, so if you could let him do so more often than normal that would be great.”

“Very common, no problem.” Oliver thanked the dental assistant and settled back as she adjusted the chair. But it only took a minute or so before Felicity looked up from her phone and saw his fingers twitching.

“Oliver,” she said in a quiet, shushing tone and she wrapped both her hands around his large hand. She ignored the smile she saw peeking from behind the dental assistant’s mask.

The cleaning went well, as did the exam, which did show Oliver could benefit from wearing a bite guard at night. But as the time came for the mold, Oliver’s anxiety was clearly raising.

Even when the dentist assured him it was a quick set. So Felicity readjusted her hold on his hand and started to talk about the office politics at her new job. (It was just a little tech firm but it still provided office gossip.)

Oliver kept his eyes firmly on her; her mouth, her nose, her painted purple nails against his rough skin, her eyes flashing behind her glasses, her blonde hair, loose and slightly wavy today…

“And open! All done, Mr. Queen.”

He sat up to rinse and spit. “Really?”

“Yes. Come back tomorrow, we will fit the guard, and that’s it.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Felicity said as Oliver stood and took a few deep breathes.

She moved to follow the assistant back to the front desk when Oliver reached out and touched her arm. She turned and looked at him and her blood froze for a moment as she saw the raw emotion on his face.

“Felicity,” he started to say.

“It’s ok, just helping my friend how hates going to the dentist.” She flashed him her big smile.

He shook his head and stepped closer. She had to look up to see his face. “Thanks for that, yes, but…also…” Their eyes searched the other’s before he broke the connection with a long blink. “Just, thank you.”

“Mmm hmm, sure, always,” she managed to voice. She cleared her throat. “Ok, let’s pay up and get out of here!” She walked away quickly and Oliver frowned as he followed.

He felt like he would never manage to have Felicity Smoak figured out. Things that seemed trivial to him apparently mattered to her while things he felt needed deeper discussion almost never phased her.

When they were outside and about to get into her car, Oliver decided he couldn’t stand her overly casual affect any longer.

“Felicity.”

“Yes?” She was searching her purse for her keys. He stepped up, took her purse, dropped it at their feet and took her hands. She was making that little “o” mouth again, that “unsure what is happening” mouth.

He took a deep breath but before he could say anything, she did. “Please, Oliver.” He tipped his head in query.

“Please, don’t say…anything that, that you think you have to say. Ok? I just, I don’t think…” She closed her eyes.

Oliver felt his nerves tighten, seeing her about to sigh or pull away or cry.

“No,” he whispered. It made her open her eyes, and yes, they were wet. “No, I’m never doing that to you again.” She nodded and started to pull from his hands. “Felicity.” She sighed and looked down at her feet. “Felicity,” he barely breathed out her name.

She slowly raised her face. Oliver was hyper aware of everything: the heat from the car and parking lot, the other people parking and walking and driving by, the birds, the traffic on the highway a few blocks south, his heartbeat, her pulse under his fingers…the intense desire to kiss her right there in the parking lot for no better reason than the fact that she willingly came and held his hand at the dentist.

“So, are we just going to stand here looking at ea—”

But what better reason was there? He slid his hand around her head and leaned in, softly pressing his lips to hers. When she didn’t try to move away, he pulled her closer with his other hand at her waist. She let out a soft tiny whimper and snaked her arms around his neck.

He smiled and she smiled, which made their lips stop kissing, which made Felicity laugh. He chased that sound and kissed her harder, demanding, and she moaned this time as he pulled her flush against his body.

“Mmmm,” she chuckled.

He pulled back enough to look at her. “What, ‘mmmm’?”

She licked her lips. “You’re so minty fresh, it’s kinda strange,” she laughed.

He raised his eyes to the sky and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Thank you for coming to the dentist with me, Felicity,” he said into her hair.

“Mmm hmm,” she sighed contently into his chest. “Anytime, Oliver.”