#he isn’t in any pain or discomfort (at least not that he told me) so i am honestly not super worried about it

[threnodians]

having a breakdown because i’m severely depressed and i have been so stressed lately and i am so fucking sick of constantly feeling like shit and death and exhausted and miserable

[urdreamydoodles]

Would it be alright if I asked for some X Men headcannons with all the characters you currently write for where the reader has deals with chronic hip pain however she doesn't tell them that it occasionally pops out and she can pop it back in herself because she doesn't want to bother them with an issue she can resolve herself until she has to do it in front of them while on a mission? I'm so sorry if this breaks any request rules or guidelines I couldn't find a post that had them listed! Also I just wanted to say I really enjoy your writing and I look forward to anything you post!

X-Men x Reader

You have chronic hip pain and they find out about it

You have been hiding your chronic hip pain from your partner, fearing you would be a burden, but during a mission or in a vulnerable moment, the truth comes out.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Jean Grey, Wade Wilson & Rogue

As someone who suffers from multiple chronic pain in different joints, as well as one in the hips, this prompt particularly touches me, so thank you. I hope you like it ♡ And thank you for the compliment! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- Being with Logan is intense, both physically and emotionally. You love his fierce protectiveness, his strength, and his unwavering loyalty, but you also know he tends to worry—especially about you. That's why you’ve kept your chronic hip pain to yourself, knowing how he’d react if he found out you were dealing with it alone. Logan has enough on his plate without adding your physical issues into the mix, and besides, you’ve gotten good at managing the pain. It’s not like it affects your life in any major way—at least, that’s what you’ve told yourself.

- On a particularly dangerous mission, your hip starts acting up. You’re deep in enemy territory, and the stakes are high. You manage to push through the discomfort for most of the mission, but as you land from a jump, your hip finally gives out. The pain is sudden and sharp, and you know you need to pop it back into place. Trying to stay discreet, you find cover and do what you’ve always done—adjusting your leg to realign your hip with a grimace. Unfortunately, Logan notices immediately. He’s always been attuned to your every move, and the second he sees you in pain, he’s by your side in an instant.

- “What the hell are you doing?” His gruff voice cuts through the tension as he kneels next to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern. You try to brush it off, but Logan isn’t having any of it. “That ain’t somethin’ you hide from me,” he growls, his gaze hard. You explain the situation—how it’s been a chronic problem for years and that you didn’t want to worry him. Logan’s jaw clenches, his frustration palpable. “Darlin’, you don’t get to decide what I worry about. That’s my job.”

- After that, Logan is relentless in making sure you’re taken care of. He’s constantly checking on you, offering to carry you when your hip bothers you, and giving you space to rest when you need it. His gruff exterior melts away when it comes to your well-being, and his protective instincts kick into overdrive. “Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you go through this alone,” he tells you one night as he helps you adjust your leg after a long day. He’s gentle, far more so than anyone would expect from him, his hands careful as he massages the sore muscles around your hip.

- Logan’s solution is simple: he makes sure you never feel like a burden. Whether it’s during missions or at home, he’s always there, watching your back and offering his help without hesitation. “We’re a team, remember?” he says one day, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb brushing over the spot where the pain usually resides. “And that means you don’t have to deal with anythin’ on your own.”

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- Remy is perceptive, always reading between the lines and noticing things others might miss. That's part of what makes him such a great partner, but it’s also what makes it harder for you to hide your chronic hip pain from him. You've managed to keep it under wraps for the most part, popping your hip back into place whenever it slips without him noticing. Remy is always so full of energy, so carefree, and you don't want to dampen that with your issues, especially when you can handle them yourself—at least, that’s what you’ve convinced yourself.

- During a mission, though, things go wrong. You’re in the middle of a heated fight, dodging attacks and moving quickly when your hip slips out of place. The pain is sharp and immediate, and you know you need to pop it back in before you can continue. Without thinking, you duck behind cover, quickly adjusting your leg to realign your hip. As you do, you hear Remy’s voice in your ear, laced with concern. “Chère, what you doin’? You okay?”

- He catches you mid-movement, his sharp eyes narrowing as he puts the pieces together. Remy quickly makes his way over to you, worry etched across his face. “Dis ain’t somethin’ you been dealin’ wit’ alone, right?” he asks, his usual playful tone replaced with something more serious. You try to downplay it, explaining that it’s been a chronic issue and that you didn’t want to bother him with it. Remy frowns, his eyes darkening as he kneels beside you. “You tink I don’t want to know when you hurtin’? C’mon, chère, dat ain’t how we do t’ings.”

- After that mission, Remy becomes even more attentive. He insists on helping you whenever your hip starts acting up, whether it's offering his shoulder to lean on or massaging the area when the pain gets bad. He’s surprisingly tender, his usual flirtatious demeanor softening into something more protective when it comes to your well-being. “Ain’t no need to be shy wit’ me, ma belle,” he says one night, his hands gentle as he rubs the sore muscles in your leg. “I’m here for all of it, pain an’ all.”

- Remy never makes you feel like a burden, instead turning every moment of vulnerability into an opportunity to show how much he cares. He’s always there, with a wink and a smile, but beneath that charm is a deep concern for your happiness and health. “You don’t ever need to hide from me, chère,” he says one evening as the two of you sit together, his arm wrapped around your waist. “We a team, you an’ me. I’m in dis for de long haul.” And in those moments, you realize that with Remy by your side, you’ll never have to face the pain alone.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- Kurt has always been so graceful, moving through life with a lightness and ease that’s almost magical. You admire that about him, and you’ve never wanted to weigh him down with your chronic hip pain. He’s so gentle, so kind, always focused on making sure you’re happy and comfortable. You’ve managed your pain well enough, not wanting to bother him with something you’ve been handling on your own for years, especially since it’s always been more of an inconvenience than anything else. But on a mission, when you’re both deep in hostile territory, your hip finally gives out in the worst possible way.

- You’ve trained yourself to ignore the pain when it flares up, but this time, it’s different. The terrain is uneven, and after one wrong landing, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, searing pain. Kurt is mid-teleport, taking out enemies with his acrobatic movements when you feel it happen. You’re quick to duck behind a boulder, gritting your teeth as you try to realign it without making a scene. You don’t want to distract him from the mission, but as soon as you try to pop it back into place, Kurt appears beside you in a flash of sulfuric smoke.

- His yellow eyes widen with concern as he takes in the situation. “Liebes, what’s wrong?” His voice is full of worry, and you can’t bring yourself to brush him off. You explain quickly, telling him how your hip has been a problem for a long time and how you’ve been managing it yourself. Kurt’s brows knit together as he listens, and when you finish, he shakes his head, looking hurt but not angry. “Why did you not tell me?” he asks softly, gently helping you shift your leg to ease the pain. “You should never have to suffer alone.”

- After the mission, Kurt makes it his personal mission to ensure you never have to handle your hip pain by yourself again. He starts incorporating exercises into your routine to strengthen the muscles around your hip, always careful to avoid anything that might aggravate it. He’s patient and understanding, never making you feel like a burden for needing help. “You are my world, Liebes,” he tells you one night as you rest together, his tail curling affectionately around your leg. “I would never want you to suffer in silence.”

- He becomes your constant support, both physically and emotionally. Whether he’s helping you during a flare-up or teleporting you somewhere more comfortable when the pain becomes too much, Kurt never hesitates to be by your side. His love for you is unwavering, and he makes sure you know that your pain will never be a burden to him. “You are everything to me,” he says one evening, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I will always be here to help you, no matter what.”

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- You’ve been managing your chronic hip pain for years, never feeling the need to burden anyone with it, especially Scott. He's the leader of the X-Men, always juggling so many responsibilities that your small physical ailment seems trivial in comparison. You've gotten used to popping your hip back into place whenever it slips, and it’s never been a problem—until now. On missions, you’ve always been careful to avoid any situation that might aggravate it, keeping your pain to yourself and maintaining your focus on the task at hand.

- But today, the pain hits harder than usual, probably from the heavy landing you made after leaping from a ledge during a mission. You can feel it—the sharp, familiar ache—and you know it’s only a matter of time before it gives out. In the middle of the fight, you try to ignore it, but the pain intensifies until your hip finally pops out of place. You freeze, desperately needing to pop it back in, but the mission is still ongoing. Without thinking, you quickly duck behind cover and try to discreetly adjust yourself, hoping Scott doesn’t notice.

- Unfortunately, Scott sees everything. His eyes narrow behind his visor, and you can feel his laser-sharp focus honing in on you, even in the chaos of the battle. “Are you okay?” His voice crackles through your comms, calm but laced with concern. You grit your teeth, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine, Scott. Just need a minute.” But Scott knows you too well, and he doesn’t believe you for a second. When the battle ends, he rushes over to you, his face etched with worry. “What’s going on? I saw you struggling back there.”

- You sigh, realizing there’s no hiding it anymore. You explain the hip pain, how it’s been a chronic issue for years, and how you didn’t want to bother him with it. Scott’s expression shifts from concern to frustration—not with you, but with the fact that you’ve been suffering in silence. “You should have told me,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to handle this alone.”

- From that point on, Scott makes it his personal mission to help you manage your condition. He insists on finding ways to make your missions less physically taxing, even if it means altering strategies or teaming you with someone who can assist if needed. At home, he’s constantly asking if you need anything, researching exercises that might help strengthen your hip. And every time your hip starts to hurt, he’s there, offering support, both physically and emotionally, never making you feel like a burden. "You're part of this team," he tells you one night as you lay in bed. "And you're the most important part of my life. Don't ever think you're bothering me.”

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Erik has always been a man of immense strength, both physically and emotionally. You admire his resilience, his determination to fight for what he believes in, and you’ve never wanted to seem weak in his eyes. Your chronic hip pain has been a constant companion for years, but you’ve always managed to handle it on your own. Erik has enough battles to fight, and you don’t want to burden him with something as small as your occasional discomfort. But during a high-stakes mission, when your hip finally gives out, there’s no hiding it anymore.

- The mission is intense, with enemies surrounding you on all sides. You’re doing your best to keep up with Erik’s powerful presence, but as you dive for cover, your hip slips out of place. The pain is immediate and excruciating, but you try to push through it, not wanting to slow Erik down. As you quickly duck behind cover, you attempt to pop your hip back into place, hoping Erik doesn’t notice. But of course, Erik is far too perceptive, and his sharp eyes catch the movement instantly.

- “What are you doing?” His voice is stern, and you can feel his eyes burning into you as he approaches. You try to brush it off, but Erik’s not one to be deceived. He crouches down beside you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he looks at you with concern. “You’re in pain,” he states, his tone softening slightly. You explain the situation, telling him about your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it yourself. Erik’s expression darkens, and you can see the frustration in his eyes—not at you, but at the fact that you’ve been suffering in silence.

- “You should have told me,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and disappointment. “I would never want you to hide something like this from me.” From that moment on, Erik takes it upon himself to ensure you never have to deal with your hip pain alone again. He may be a man of power, but when it comes to you, his touch is always gentle, his concern always genuine. He begins making adjustments to his plans, always considering your well-being and ensuring you’re never pushed beyond your limits.

- Erik is fiercely protective, and after learning about your hip, his protective instincts only intensify. He finds ways to make your missions less physically demanding, always checking in to make sure you’re comfortable. At home, he’s constantly asking how you’re feeling, offering massages and making sure you’re resting when you need it. “You’re important to me,” he tells you one night, his hand resting on your hip as you lay together in bed. “And I will never let you go through this alone.” With Erik by your side, you feel safe, knowing that he’ll always be there to help you through the pain.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- Wanda has always been deeply attuned to emotions, both hers and yours. She’s someone who understands pain and struggle, having lived through so much herself, but you’ve never wanted to weigh her down with your own chronic hip pain. It’s been a part of your life for years, something you’ve learned to manage on your own, and though it’s frustrating at times, it’s never felt like something worth sharing with Wanda—until the day you’re on a mission together, and everything changes.

- The mission is intense, filled with chaos and danger, and you’re doing your best to keep up. But in the middle of a fight, as you dodge an attack, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, searing pain. You bite back a gasp, quickly ducking behind cover as you try to pop your hip back in without drawing attention. But before you can even try, you feel a gentle pulse of energy wrap around you. Wanda’s magic—red and warm—flows over you, and you know she’s sensed something is wrong.

- “What’s happening?” Wanda’s voice echoes in your mind, her concern immediately apparent. You don’t want to distract her from the battle, but you can’t hide the truth. You explain quickly, telling her about your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it alone. Wanda doesn’t hesitate. In an instant, she teleports to your side, her eyes glowing with a fierce, protective light. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, her voice filled with worry, but there’s no anger in her tone, only concern.

- Wanda helps you through the pain, using her magic to gently ease your hip back into place. Her touch is soft, her presence comforting, and in that moment, you realize just how much you’ve been holding back from her. After the mission, Wanda makes it clear that you don’t have to deal with your pain alone anymore. She starts using her magic to help manage your hip, casting healing spells and creating charms to keep the pain at bay. “You’re not a burden,” she tells you one evening as you sit together, her hand resting on your hip. “We’re in this together. Always.”

- With Wanda’s support, you feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. She never lets you feel like a burden, and her love for you is unwavering. Whenever the pain flares up, Wanda is there, using her magic to make it easier for you. She becomes your constant source of strength, and with her by your side, you feel like you can handle anything. “You don’t have to hide your pain from me,” she says softly one night, her fingers gently tracing your skin. “I’ll always be here to help you, no matter what.”

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

- Being with Pietro is like living in a whirlwind. He’s always moving, always full of energy, and you love the excitement he brings into your life. But that same energy is part of the reason you’ve never told him about your chronic hip pain. You didn’t want to slow him down, didn’t want him to feel like he had to adjust his pace for you. You’ve been handling the pain on your own for years, and it’s never been an issue—until the day your hip gives out during a mission.

- You’re both in the middle of a high-speed chase, running through the city as you try to outmaneuver your enemies. Pietro’s a blur of silver and blue, darting ahead while you do your best to keep up. But as you leap over a barrier, your hip slips out of place, sending a sharp pain shooting through your leg. You stumble, biting back a cry as you duck behind cover, trying to pop your hip back in as quickly as possible. You don’t want Pietro to notice, but of course, he’s already there in an instant.

- “What’s wrong?” Pietro’s voice is sharp with concern, and before you can even answer, he’s crouching beside you, his blue eyes scanning you for injuries. You try to brush it off, but Pietro’s not having it. “Tell me what’s going on,” he insists, his voice softer now but still filled with worry. Reluctantly, you explain about your chronic hip pain, how you’ve been dealing with it yourself because you didn’t want to bother him. Pietro’s expression shifts, and for a moment, he looks hurt. “You think I wouldn’t want to know?” he asks quietly.

- From that moment on, Pietro refuses to let you suffer in silence. He’s always checking in on you, making sure you’re comfortable and never pushing you too hard. He even slows down for you when he needs to, never making you feel like you’re holding him back. “You’re not a burden,” he tells you firmly one day as you sit together, his arm wrapped around your waist. “I’d rather be at your pace than leave you behind.”

- Pietro’s love for you is as fast and fierce as everything else he does, and he makes sure you never have to handle your pain alone again. Whether it’s carrying you when your hip is acting up or making sure you have a comfortable place to rest, he’s always by your side. “You’re everything to me,” he says one night as he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “And I’ll always take care of you, no matter how fast or slow we have to go.”

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

- Jean is the most intuitive person you’ve ever known, her empathy so strong that it’s almost impossible to hide anything from her. But you’ve managed to keep your chronic hip pain a secret, not because you don’t trust her, but because you didn’t want to worry her. Jean has so much on her plate, with her powers and the constant responsibilities of being an X-Man. You’ve always handled your hip pain on your own, and it never seemed like something worth burdening her with—until one day, when you’re on a mission together, and it becomes impossible to hide.

- The mission is going well, but as you leap from a ledge, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, sudden pain. You try to hide it, biting your lip as you duck behind cover, quickly attempting to pop your hip back into place. But you can feel Jean’s presence in your mind before you can even move. Her concern washes over you, her mental voice soft but urgent. Are you okay? You sigh, knowing there’s no hiding it from her now. “I’m fine, Jean,” you say out loud, but she’s already at your side, her eyes full of worry.

- “You’re not fine,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. Jean listens quietly as you explain your chronic hip pain, how it’s been an issue for years, and how you’ve been managing it on your own. She frowns, her brows knitting together as she processes what you’re telling her. “You should have told me,” she says softly, her hand resting on your arm. “I could have helped you.” There’s no anger in her voice, only concern and a deep, unwavering love. You feel her empathy wrapping around you like a warm blanket, soothing your fears and making you realize that you don’t have to carry this burden alone.

- From that moment on, Jean makes sure you never have to deal with your hip pain in silence. She’s always checking in on you, using her telepathy to gently monitor how you’re feeling without being intrusive. She even starts researching ways to help manage the pain, from physical therapy exercises to mental techniques for pain management. “We’ll figure this out together,” she tells you one day as you sit together, her hand resting on your hip. “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”

- Jean is endlessly supportive, both mentally and physically. Whenever your hip starts acting up, she’s there, offering to help you realign it or using her telekinesis to make the process less painful. Her empathy and care make you feel cherished, and she never makes you feel like a burden. “You’re my partner,” she says one evening as you lay together, her fingers gently tracing circles on your skin. “And that means we share everything—the good and the bad. I’m here for you, always.” With Jean by your side, you know that you’ll never have to face your pain alone again.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

- Wade is anything but conventional, and that’s one of the things you love most about him. He’s chaotic, loud, and completely unpredictable, but he’s also fiercely protective of you. You’ve never wanted to burden him with your chronic hip pain, though. He already has enough on his plate, what with his healing factor and constant battle scars. Your hip pain seems so small compared to everything he deals with, so you’ve been managing it on your own—until one day, when Wade finds out in the most Wade way possible.

- You’re both in the middle of a mission, and things are going as well as they ever do when you’re working with Deadpool, which is to say: absolute chaos. Wade is cracking jokes, slicing through enemies, and generally causing mayhem, while you’re doing your best to stay focused. But then, as you dive to avoid an explosion, your hip slips out of place with a painful pop. You grit your teeth, ducking behind cover to pop it back in, hoping Wade doesn’t notice. Unfortunately, he does.

- “Babe! What the hell was that?” Wade’s voice comes over the comms, full of concern, and before you can even respond, he’s next to you, his mask tilted as if he’s trying to get a better look at you. “Did your hip just do the thing? You didn’t tell me you had a thing!” You sigh, knowing there’s no avoiding the conversation now. You explain about your chronic hip pain, how it’s been an issue for years, and how you’ve been handling it yourself because you didn’t want to bother him. Wade stares at you for a moment before letting out a dramatic gasp. “Bother me? Babe, I literally regrow limbs. I think I can handle a little hip action.”

- From that moment on, Wade makes it his personal mission to make sure you never have to deal with your hip pain alone. He turns it into a running joke, calling himself your “personal hip specialist” and constantly offering to “massage your beautiful, badass hip.” But beneath the jokes, Wade is genuinely concerned for you, and he takes your pain seriously. He starts carrying you around whenever your hip acts up, always cracking jokes to make you laugh, but you can tell he’s keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re okay.

- “You’re my hot, kickass partner,” Wade says one night as you both relax at home, his head resting on your lap. “And if you think for one second that I wouldn’t want to help you with this, you’re crazy. I mean, crazier than me, and that’s saying something.” Wade’s love may be unconventional, but it’s fierce and unwavering, and he makes sure you never feel like a burden. Whenever your hip pain flares up, Wade is there with a joke and a helping hand, making you feel cherished and cared for, no matter what.

Rogue (Anna Marie)

- Rogue has always been cautious with you, careful not to hurt you with her powers. She’s your fiercely protective Southern belle, and you love her for that. But when it comes to your chronic hip pain, you’ve kept it to yourself. You never wanted her to feel like she had to take care of you when she already deals with so much of her own struggles. You’ve gotten used to quietly popping your hip back in place when needed, but it’s something you don’t plan on letting her see—until one mission changes everything.

- You’re both out in the field, dealing with a group of rogue Sentinels. The battle is intense, and you’re focused, trying to keep up with Rogue’s flying acrobatics. But as you leap out of the way of one of the robot’s attacks, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, agonizing pain. You stumble behind some rubble, gritting your teeth as you try to pop it back into place. Unfortunately, Rogue sees the whole thing.

- “Sugar, what’s goin’ on?” she asks, her voice filled with concern as she hovers above you. She lands beside you, reaching out as if to help, but stops herself, her gloved hands hovering just inches from your arm. You hesitate, not wanting to burden her, but the worry in her green eyes convinces you to tell the truth. You explain your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it yourself because you didn’t want her to worry. Rogue listens carefully, her brow furrowed, and when you finish, she lets out a long sigh.

- “You think Ah wouldn’t wanna know somethin’ like that?” she asks softly, her accent thick with emotion. “Ah love you, sugah, and if you’re hurtin’, Ah need to know. It don’t matter if it’s somethin’ you’re used to. Ah want to help.” From that moment on, Rogue makes it her mission to help you in any way she can. Whenever your hip acts up, she’s quick to offer her strength—lifting you, carrying you, or even just sitting with you until the pain passes. She makes sure you know that you’re never a burden to her.

- Rogue’s love is as strong as she is, and she refuses to let you face your pain alone. She’s always there, whether it’s helping you get comfortable or making sure you have a supportive cushion to sit on. “You’re mah heart,” she whispers one night as she gently rests her head against yours, her gloved hand resting on your hip. “Ah’ll take care of you, just like you take care of me.”

[storm-angel989]

Outside the Office Part Eight

Hi All! Mature content warning (it is Valentino, after all). Enjoy!

I awoke the next morning to the shrieking sound of an alarm clock. I groaned and snuggled tighter to Valentino. He rolled over and hit his phone until it finally fell silent. 

“Mmm. Good morning, Princessa.” He leaned over and pressed his lips to mine, a soft smile playing across his features. “I could wake up to this pretty face every morning.” He ran the back of his hand down my cheek. “How do you feel? Did the epsom salt bath help last night?” 

I shivered but nodded, tucking my head to the base of his neck as I recalled the events of the night before. A few hours after I had fallen asleep against Valentino, I woke up, every muscle in my body screaming in pain. He had kissed me, and upon learning of my discomfort, he closed his computer and ran the warmest, toastiest bath I had ever had the pleasure of soaking in. 

He had gone out of his way to set up the bathtub well before he carried me over and sinking into the bathtub felt the same way heaven should. Honestly, the more I thought about it,  to call it a bathtub would be an understatement. His bathtub could easily fit both Valentino and I, and at least two others, with room leftover. He sat across from me while I soaked, punching away on his laptop. “Just be quiet, Princessa.” He had told me. “I need to concentrate on this.”  To see him go from working, the serious expression on his face as he concentrated on his laptop to the soft expression when he looked up at me sent butterflies all through my body. 

“It did,” I replied sleepily. I loved waking up next to him, feeling him underneath me. Protecting me. I wrapped my arms around him the best I could. “I feel much better now.” 

He took my chin in his hand and tilted my face as he studied it. “You look better. The bruises are already starting to turn. You meant it when you said angels healed fast.” He gently let go of my chin. 

I snuggled back against him. With the sleepiness still in my brain, I let out a half laugh. “I mean, it makes sense though that when I was back home I still healed slower than the other angels I trained with.” I snuggled closer to him. “But I was held to the same timeline, even when it still hurt. It made me tough.” 

I heard him take a sharp inhale and looked up to see him as he clenched his jaw. He pulled me up to his chest and pressed his lips to my forehead. 

“That isn’t okay, and it will never happen to you again. Not while I’m around,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Warmness spread through me at his words. My head against his chest, tucked under a mound of blankets, I would have laid there all day if I could have. After a few minutes of cuddling, he sighed and slowly sat up, moving himself carefully so as to not aggravate my pain. 

“As much as I would love to stay here all day with you, I have to work today.” He said, echoing my thoughts. He kissed me again. “And you’re going with me.”

It wasn’t fear that rushed through me, but the idea of going back to that place made me uneasy. Sending my discomfort, he wrapped both his arms around me. 

“No harm will come to you, not this time nor ever again. I promise.” He kissed the top of my head. “After today the world will know that you belong to me, that you are the princess of hell, and no one will fuck with you ever again, lest they face the wrath of Lucifer himself.” He nuzzled into me. “Believe me when I tell you what you saw in the bathroom that day, isn’t a fraction of what the king of hell is capable of.” 

I didn’t answer. I wondered, not for the first time since my arrival, if being half demon came with any perks- like the strength and quick healing benefit from my angelic side. I made a mental note to text Lucifer and ask him. What’s the worst he could do, not respond? Tell me no? I buried my face into him as those feelings washed over me. 

Under me, Valentino let out a steady exhale and lifted both of us up. “Shall we get ready for the day?” He leaned in and gave me a smile, his lips hovering against mine. “I think we both need a wake up shower.” He swung himself off the bed and offered his hand. “Come, mi amor.” 

His hand in mine, I gingerly stood up. He waited for me to find my balance, testing a few steps slowly. Once I was sure of my footing, I followed him into the bathroom, his fingers intertwined with mine. 

“Sit on the counter. You haven’t moved very much over the past few days.  You’re going to be sore.” He lifted me up and set me on the counter.  “I’ll give you something to keep you comfortable throughout the day. It will last longer, and work better than ibuprofen.” He dug through and came up with a vial, and a wrapped syringe and needle. He reached for my arm. 

I jerked away from his touch. “Absolutely not. No. I’m fine with just the pills. That’s all I need. It’s all I’ve ever needed, and more than I’ve received on more than one occasion. I will survive.” 

He looked torn. “But Princessa. It won’t get you high, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you. It will only make you more comfortable.”

“I said no.” 

He sighed in frustration but put everything back in the drawer, rummaging around again and pulling out a thermometer. “Fine. Here, put this under your tongue before Vox bitches at me again.” 

I opened my mouth and he placed it under my tongue. I closed my lips around it and waited. He walked away from me and opened the shower door. I heard the steady stream as the water began to fall and watched as steam floated towards the top of the room.  

He turned his attention back to me and crossed his arms. “Sit. Stay. I’ll go get more ibuprofen from your room. I gave you the last of it before bed last night. And remind me to write it on the board so housekeeping brings up more.” He stepped out, closing the door behind him. 

I continued to wait as patiently as I could for him to come back. I looked around the bathroom, trying to find something to keep my interest. Much like Valentino’s room, it was decorated sparsely. But instead of the reds and purples that made up his bedroom, his bathroom was primarily white and gray, with gold accents sprinkled throughout. The shower itself was huge, and between that and the bathtub, the majority of the space should have been taken up. Instead, Val had a double vanity directly across from the shower. The rest of the amenities, including a second sink, sat further in the back of the room, not too far from the tub. 

My first time in the shower I hadn’t been with it enough my first time in it to realize just how vast it was. Unlike my combined shower and bathtub at my fathers house back home, his shower was more like a solidly tiled room with several different shower heads scattered about. Shelves lined the walls both when you first walked in, and scattered throughout. Although we didn’t use it, there was a solid bench made of tile off to the side with several shower heads directly above it. I wondered what the purpose of that was. So someone could sit and shower maybe? 

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening and he walked back in, muttering angrily to himself. The door slammed and I jumped. 

He frowned and touched my cheek. “I’m sorry for startling you. Open up.” He took the thermometer out of my mouth and held it up to the light. “Normal. Good.” 

“Are you good?” I asked with concern.  

“I’m just running late, babe.” He kissed the top of my head and helped me down from the countertop. He pressed two pills into my hand and filled a cup of water for me. “Ibuprofen. As promised. Take it. Now.” 

“Thanks, Val.” I took the medication and tossed the cup in the garbage. From the corner of my eye I watched him take his pajamas off.

“Princessa. I don’t have time this morning,” he warned. He came over to me and tugged his shirt off over my head.  

“What? I’m just admiring what’s mine.” I laid my hands against his abdomen, feeling his hard muscles. God, could this man look anymore like something out of a magazine? I wondered what would happen if I slipped my hand just a little lower….

He rolled his eyes and took my hand in his. He tugged me forward and opened the shower door. “After you, Princessa.”

I stepped inside and settled myself under a stream of warm water. I allowed it to wash over me, feeling the instant relief it offered. I tried to lift my arms above my head, letting out an involuntary hiss as my muscles contracted. Ever watching, Valentino stepped behind me and squirted shampoo in his hand,  lathering my blonde hair. 

“Vel is going to do your makeup in her room this morning,” he said as his fingers pressed against my scalp.  “Unfortunately, I have to deal with a fire downstairs so she’ll text me when she’s done and I’ll come back up and get you.” 

“You’re leaving before me?” 

He sighed, “I don’t want to. I have to. I’m sorry Princessa.” He moved my body back under the water. “ Don’t talk. Close your eyes.”

I did as he told me, holding onto him for balance as he worked his fingers through my hair, ensuring all the shampoo was out. After a few minutes, he pulled me out from under the water, guiding me to a hotter stream of water. “Let that hit your muscles for as long as you can take it.” 

I watched him run soap over his entire body. He closed his eyes, letting the water run over him. I bit my lower lip, trying to keep myself under control.  “I understand Val. Work comes first back home too.” 

Annoyance flashed over his features. He stepped out from under the water and pulled me to him. “Princessa. I mean this in the kindest way, but heaven sounds awful.” 

“It  wasn’t so bad.” I said as I nabbed the bar of soap from him. “I just learned tough lessons, that's all.” 

He took the soap back from me and turned me, running it down my back. “That sounds like a fucking trauma response if I’ve ever heard one. And believe me, I’ve heard plenty.” He grabbed my waist and pulled me back under the stream of water, kissing my neck. “You will never go through that again.” 

I believed him. I leaned into him and I felt the same warmth I had felt the night before ignite in my belly. “Mmm…Val.” 

He nipped my neck ever so gently and I relaxed into him. 

“Don’t mmm Val me, Princessa. You’ll make me more late than I already am. I’m just trying to speed things along.” His tone changed to light and playful. “Though touching your body is an added bonus.” He ran his hands down my hips and titled my chin up so our eyes met, kissing me as the water cascaded around us. He broke away after a moment and turned the water off. 

“Val…” I leaned my head into him. 

“Oh no no no. I mean it, I’m late.” He opened the door and tugged my hand, pulling me out with him. 

He grabbed a towel and paused as he caught sight of my body. I felt the tinglement of embarrassment as his eyes seemed to study me,  his expression unreadable. He stepped forward after a moment and ran a hand down my sides, pausing at my waist. 

“Looks like all the bruises are starting to yellow up, not just the ones on your face. Lucifer was concerned about the ones on your belly…but they look okay.” He bent over and kissed down my body, starting at my neck and pausing, for the briefest of moments, as his fingers brushed my nipples. 

I let out an involuntary gasp as he continued to move lower, his lips hovering above my belly. He carefully kissed around the green and yellow splotches before pausing and standing up, back to full height. Even from under the towel, I could tell he was rock hard. 

“I thought you didn’t have time,” I panted, reaching my arms around his neck. 

“I don’t. But work be damned.” He lifted me up and set me on the counter, spreading my legs. He lowered his head and his lips pressed against my lower belly.

“Relax, Princessa. You’re going to enjoy this.” 

I felt his lips move lower, his tongue flicking my clit.  I moaned at the feeling, gripping him. “Valentino!” I hissed as I bucked my hips. Unconcerned, his tongue slid lower, slipping inside of me. I felt my body explode in a thousand nerve endings and I dug my nails into him as I came. 

“Valentino!”

“Mm…princessa, you taste so sweet.” He brought his head up and kept his hands around my waist, pulling me to him. 

I rested my head against his sternum, trying to catch my breath as I came down from the release. “Fuck, Valentino!” I whispered. Every single nerve in my body tingled. 

He chuckled, but rubbed my back. “Easy baby girl. I’ve got you.” He pressed his lips to mine and pulled back gently, reaching over to his phone on the counter. He hit the home button and cursed under his breath. He pressed his lips to mine again and lifted me back to the floor, taking a moment to steady me in his arms. I gripped him gently, head against his chest as I stared at the wall. I closed my eyes. 

“Babygirl.” He said softly. “We can’t sleep. Come on now, we need to get ready, or we’ll throw Vox’s schedule off too.” He gently pushed me up, holding me by my shoulders as he looked at me with concern. “Sweetheart. Are you alright?”

“More than alright.” I leaned in for another kiss. “I want more.” 

He sighed heavily and pressed his lips to mine before pulling back.  “Princessa. I would love nothing more. But we’ve got to get going.” He nodded towards the counter. “Use the sink on the right. I asked housekeeping to bring over a few of your things after you went to bed last night. They’re in the top drawer, organize it to your liking later. They’ll replace what they took in your room, so if you end up spending the night with me you don’t have to go running back and forth.”

I smiled at his thoughtfulness, and leaned over to kiss his cheek, “Thanks Val.” 

He shooed me away, but gave me a soft smile. “Go on. Get ready. And don’t dry your hair. we don't have time. Vel will take care of it.” 

I dug through the drawer,  pleased to find he really did bring over everything I needed. I set to work, going through my own morning routine. By his side, I watched him do the same. There was something oddly comforting watching him get ready, something that made him seem more…human-like wasn’t quite the word I was looking for. Softer maybe? I wasn’t sure. Looking in the mirror at my splotchy face, I picked up my pink comb and began to work on my hair. 

He stepped over to me. “Vel can handle the knots. Come on, I have to go. “ He took the comb from my hand and set it down.”And before I forget to remind you, you need to eat before I get back up here.” 

I nodded and watched as he dropped his towel. I bit my lip, and he shot me a knowing look before he covered himself in a black bathrobe. He tossed a matching robe over my shoulders and I let my own towel hit the ground. He leaned into my back and reached around the front of me as he tied the belt around my waist, making sure I was covered. 

“Come on, Princessa,” he said softly in my ear, “you can sit on the bed while I get dressed.” 

I followed him out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he disappeared into his closet, remerging moments later dressed in black pants, a matching belt with a gold heart shaped buckle, and a black button up shirt, tucked in neatly at the waist. He threw his signature red coat over his shoulders and adjusted his glasses. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Why do you wear glasses, Val?” I asked as he took my hand, leading me down the hall. 

“They cut the harshness of the light in the studio,” he answered. “Otherwise I end up with a headache. But I wore them so often they kind of became a thing, so now I wear them whenever I’m out. Honestly, it helps a ton, and  I don’t get nearly as many headaches as I used to.” 

He knocked quickly on Velvette’s door. “Vel? It’s me. Open up.” 

I heard the door unlock and Velvette stood, looking as perfect as ever. 

“Ah! Reader. You…your bruises turned yellow. And green. That’s going to change everything I had planned. Come in, come in, I have breakfast for you. Nothing fancy but you can eat while I do something with that hair.” 

Valentino kissed the top of my head. “I’ll see you later, my love.” He gave Velvette a look. “Take care of her.”

“Shoo. You’re disgustingly late. Goodbye!” She closed the door in his face and looked at me. “Follow, follow.” 

I trailed behind her as we crossed the room, taking in the designs as best I could at her quick pace. Unlike Valentino’s room, Velvette was rich with deep red with black and silver accents sprinkled throughout. I didn’t have nearly enough time to look around before she led me through a door and pointed at the salon chair in front of a mirror.

“Sit! Sit. Here. Eat.” She handed me a granola bar and a bottle of Sweet Sixteen. “Get these down and then I’ll grab you a cup of coffee if you want it.” 

I unwrapped the bar and took a bite as she busied herself with my hair, effortlessly unknotting it. She blew it dry and styled it to her vision as I quickly finished breakfast. True to her word, she paused and got both of us a cup of coffee once my hair was finished. 

“Thank you, Vel.” I said, sipping from the red, heart shaped mug. 

“Of course. Coffee is important. Coffee is vibes.” She took a drink from her own mug and studied my face. “How are you? Is Val treating you okay? Love him, but he can be a real dick sometimes, but don’t tell him I said that.”  She paused. “Actually, you can tell him I said that. He’ll laugh.” 

I smiled at her concern. “ Vel, honest and truly he makes me feel safe in a way no one else ever has. I love him, Vel.”

She seemed satisfied with my answer. “I get it,” she responded as she set down her empty mug. “I feel that way about Vox. But sweetheart, don’t be afraid to put him in his place when needed. Sometimes it’s necessary.” 

I drained the rest of my cup and she spun me around to face her. 

“Enough of that. Let’s get your makeup done. It will need to be touched up before you go with Vox. You don’t need to do anything, I’ll meet you down in his studio right before you go on set. But for what you’re doing with Val this will be fine. Close your eyes.” 

I did as she told me and sat patiently waiting as she gently covered my face in a plethora of creams and powders.  Eventually I felt her turn the chair back towards the mirror. 

“Open. What do you think?” 

My reflection in the mirror was the opposite of the one I had seen this morning. Every bruise, even my black eyes, had vanished under the cover of her makeup. Almost as if nothing had happened. 

“And the outfit you’re wearing will hide everything else. At the rate you’re healing though, I think you’ll be back to normal within a week. Come now, let’s get dressed.” 

She helped me put my arms into the shirt and closed the ribbons down the back, yanking them tight so the back wouldn’t open. The front seamlessly hugged my body and hid everything I had behind a high neckline. The jeans she tugged on fit every curve and sat low on my hips. I stepped into a pair of low, comfortable black ankle boots, red bottoms showing off with every step. She fluffed my hair and around my neck, she hung a small necklace with a single charm V shaped charm dangling from it. Looking in the mirror, I couldn’t tell if I was modestly hiding behind my outfit, or if I was showing off everything by showing off nothing. I felt amazing. 

“Well? Give me your thoughts?” She asked, fluffing my hair again. “Looking good, don’t you think?” 

“It’s perfect.” I turned and hugged her. “Thank you.”

She laughed but hugged me back. “Nothing to it princess. Now go knock 'em dead. Make them wish they had never laid eyes on Reader Morningstar.” 

I heard a knock on the door. Velvette perked up. 

“And right on schedule. I guess a broken clock is right at least twice a day. Come on in, Val, doors unlocked.” 

The door swung open and Valentino walked in, fingers flying as he texted on his phone. He looked up and I gave him my best smile. His eyes went wide and his phone disappeared into his pocket. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me to him, pressing a kiss onto me.  He leaned back after a second and licked his lips. “Mm. Strawberry. Good choice Vel.” 

Velvette rolled her eyes and swung her hips to the side, but her expression gave away how pleased she was. “Whatever. It wasn’t for you.” 

“I think you’re lying, but it doesn't matter. Come on, mi amor. We don’t want to be late. Well, later than we are.” He wrapped his arm around me and we walked towards the door. Right before we walked out, he paused and glanced back at Velvette. “Thanks Vel. You outdid yourself.”

“Don’t I always?” She asked, but her tone was that of a satisfied cat. “Go on. Get out of here. See you tonight. And reader!” 

I turned back as Valentino hustled me down the hallway. “What’s up Vel?”

She grinned. “You look killer, darling. Make them respect you.” 

[din-miller]

Hey did you know the tbb can purr? It’s totally fact and not me wanting to read about it 👀. Anywho, please justice can I have some purring clones? 👉👈

Purring clones now live rent free in my head.

I’m struggling with a case of writers block so this is more in the style of my tbb thoughts. Hope it’s to your liking!

The Purring Hours

Pairing: could be read as romantic for any of the boys you fancy or could be read as gen. Up to you. gender neutral reader

Word count: 525

Warnings: Mention of the Kaminoans 🤢

A/N: I added Rex because he is the purring king 👑

No one told you that clones could purr.

It starts with Crosshair of all people. A teasing scratch against his growing buzz cut has him leaning into your hand, chest rumbling with a soft purr. Then, once realisation set in, Crosshair is across the ship, avoiding your bewildered expression as his own takes on a warning scowl. You don’t mention it, don’t dare say anything but when Wrecker gives a hearty laugh you’re unable to fight back the small tilt of a smile.

Crosshair doesn’t speak to you for a whole week but you do catch him looking at your hands more than once. Again, you don’t dare say anything but the next time you see him needing comfort or a grounding presence, your fingers brush through his small curls without a pause.

It turns out that purring isn’t always a good thing. Sometimes it’s born of pain, of sadness. It’s Echo you learn this from as dull eyes watch an old holo of the 501st. A happier time when war wasn’t so unforgiving.

Echo doesn’t have hair and you're too afraid of causing discomfort because of his cybernetics, so you climb in behind him and tug the clone back until he’s settled against your chest. Eventually, after many stories of the 501st, his purrs become louder, happier. You fall asleep to them with Echo safe in your arms.

Wrecker breaks sound barriers with his purrs, seriously no joke, it’s loud. He never purrs in the Marauder; it’s too small of a space and it hurts Hunter sensitive hearing. On Pabu though, the house Shep set you up in, shook so much with each purr you had to reinforce the whole structure. Wrecker loved it.

Tech never purrs, or at least that’s what you thought before his chest raised and fell with steady vibrations against your palm. It’s a silent purr he admitted, embarrassment colouring his words. You find yourself hugging him more than any of his brothers. Cuddling against him during weekly Batch piles.

Omega’s purring is the softest and most frequent. In fact if one of her brothers don’t hear her purring in a span of three hours they’re checking in on her, making sure everything is okay. Her purring increases tenfold in those moments and it irritates Crosshair. But you know better when it comes to his complaining, because despite Hunter’s enchanted hearing it’s always Crosshair who notices first.

Hunter on the other hand never purrs. Some terrible excuse about him being the leader and he shouldn’t and blah blah it doesn’t matter. It’s a lie and it’s Echo who pushes Hunter to tell you the truth. He can’t purr. The Kaminoans weren’t sure how much the ability to purr would affect his heightened senses. Other clones treated him differently because of it. You wish you could go back in time and knock out the teeth of those assholes. You tell Hunter that you love him all the same.

And don’t get you started on Rex. The man’s a purring machine, twenty-four seven. You had asked if it was a first generation thing, Echo had laughed and said it’s just Rex and his mother-hen nature.

[azul-marie]

leon. (desiderate)

fem. reader. canon-typical violence/injuries mentioned.

if only you’d been beside him a second sooner.

the surrounding ganados were resolute in killing the two of you, but so far you’d handled everything well. he took the front, you, the back. it was going fine enough, up until a creature welding a machete managed to land a clean slice across the side of his abdomen, easily cutting through the flesh. your partner’s pained sounds were a nightmare on the ears.

once that damned church bell finally rang upon safety could you take cover in an abandoned home to check whatever damage was done.

now another challenge began.

“please, just let me see how bad it is.” your pleas are no match for stubbornness. leon waves you off, pretending that he isn’t holding a bleeding wound. his beautiful jacket, a favorite of his, he had told you on the way to the village, stains his hand a bright scarlet. he lingers by a window to keep watch outside, his handsome face scrunched with discomfort.

“it’s fine. i’m fine. focus on yourself first.” his reply is curt, slightly winded. his broad chest heaves as he applies more pressure on his injury, his jaw setting tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. you watch helplessly, unused to the view of your calm, confident partner so hurt.

the two of you hadn’t been partners for long, but something akin to a friendship was undoubtedly there. his odd quips, the occasional joke that would usually cause eye rolling and groans were actually rather charming coming from a man of his reputation — you took them in stride, bouncing off of his personality as if you’d known each other all your lives.

but there is a certain coldness to leon. an inner frost, like a perpetual twist of the brows stuck in thought, or eyes heavy with a lack of heart. clear reminders of whatever he’s gone through before meeting you. perhaps it’s the innate good you sense from him that encourages the desire to know him, befriend him. a goodness that is such he’d prefer bleeding out if it meant saving you first.

you gather your courage. with cautious steps you approach his side, place a benign hand on his bicep that silently insists. at first, leon refuses to look your way. he's all too aware of those doe eyes you’re making at him — knows it’ll get him weak in the knees. the touch on his arm is already making it harder to breathe.

“leon…” —god, do you have to say his name so softly like that?— “i’m not hurt. i’m worried about you. just let me take a look so i can help ease the pain. please.”

his eyes flicker down to yours before he can stop himself. fuck. those pretty eyes, brows turned up with concern, flutter when they meet his. leon’s jaw goes slack, and he swallows so hard he’s certain he gulps aloud.

“okay…okay. i surrender.” he says, a hint of humor lacing in. “sorry to have made you beg.”

your unease melts into a beaming smile. “as long as it paid off.”

after finding the most stable looking chair in the house, leon peels off his beloved jacket on the one side he’s hurt, exposing the weeping cut caked with a mix of dried and fresh blood. he at least looks a little sheepish to have insisted he was fine, when he was, in fact, not very fine at all.

you cringe at the sight, deterring any ogling leon would've preferred to see instead. you carefully lift his skin-tight shirt to examine the cut further. the feel of your smooth fingers gliding across his bare skin sends a wave of gooseflesh over every inch of him. he reminds himself he’s a professional, not a schoolboy.

“i’m…i’m sorry, but, ew. aside from that, it’s actually not too deep. a good cleaning should help, since that blade was probably really unsanitary. then i’ll bandage you up. sounds good?”

leon is quiet. concerned, you glance upwards to check on him, only to find he’s already staring at you. something hot clenches at your chest. his eyes fall to your parted lips for a split second before realizing you’ve stopped talking.

“yeah.” he mindlessly agrees. it is incredibly obvious to the both of you that he hasn’t heard a word you said. you kindly choose to ignore it, mostly because it’s cute. and because he’s probably lost a bit of blood while he was being stubborn. not to mention he was nearly sawed in half by a literal creature of darkness, too. something like that would take a moment to process.

“i’ll clean you up, then bandage the cut. sounds good?” you repeat slowly, trying to also kindly ignore how his eyes switch between your eyes and lips. leon nods, then looks away in silent complacency to let you do what you need to. and to steady himself when your hands run down the expanse of his abdomen to check for any other injuries he may have sustained.

he wonders how you’ve managed to keep such soft, supple hands. how they press just the right amount of pressure, not too much or too little. the first aid spray, nor the herbs you mix and crush into a salve hardly sting when you massage them across his wound. all the while your eyes, those pretty eyes, gleam with pure concentration as you work to heal him. help him. without ulterior motives, without asking for anything in return.

guilt overtakes him. to have you mend him despite his being perfectly capable feels selfish. reminds him of naivety and red. longings of the past. you two were already in over your heads, and now this? having you coddle him? leon’s hardly deserving. hardly worth your effort. he wasn’t the priority at this point, even if he made the promise to get all three of you back home safe. there were risks, dangers, that either of you could succumb to, but he’d be damned before letting anything happen to you. as long as you stuck together, nothing would.

“you with me, ace?”

your whisper jolts him out of thought. leon appears struck, as if forgetting you’re sat beside him, pressing bandages along his abdomen. your perplexed expression wakes him from his inner rumination. makes him think his own face is twisted in the way it gets whenever he’s too far deep in his mind.

leon takes a beat to answer. “uh…yeah. all good. sorry about that.”

“no need to apologize. i know it’s a lot to take in. i’m just worried about that handsome face of yours.”

he freezes, his dark thoughts at once evaporating. “my—what?”

you turn slightly bashful. “oh, well, you know. if you keep making the same kind of face, it’ll get stuck that way. i just…well, it would be a shame if yours did. you’re really quite nice on the eyes, leon.”

he gapes at you, stunned silent by your boldness. and what more it could imply. these sorts of compliments are nothing he’s not used to, clearly, but coming from you? the first person to mean something to him in years?

leon feels his face going hot. shit. he clears his throat, shifts in his creaking seat. prays he isn’t blushing as badly as he thinks he is. you manage to catch his fleeting eyes for a second. he watches how your lush lips turn up with an amused smile so poorly hidden he almost thinks you wanted him to notice — and just like that, he’s properly flustered.

he isn’t allowed to collect himself. soon you’re patting off whatever excess salve remains on his skin and tugging his shirt back down over freshly set bandages, held together by even more prayers and a bit of medical tape. you’re up and on your feet before leon can even pierce together the concept of thanking you.

you head to the nearest window for a quick peek outside. “looks like the villagers are still in the church. it’s all clear for now, unless they decide to cut service short.” you muse. leon joins you, carefully readjusting his jacket and his cool.

“don’t jinx us.” he huffs. “last thing we need is another run in with trouble. we should start looking for ashley now that things are quiet.”

you agree. after one last weapons and supplies check, you lead the way towards the front door to brave whatever awaits the two of you ahead. before you finish twisting the doorknob, he pats an awkward hand on your shoulder.

leon says your name intently. “…i appreciate your help. very much.” he hesitates, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. you can still see a bloom of pink across his cheeks. “so…thanks. i owe you one.”

you pat his shoulder in return with a mellow smile. “of course, leon. it’s why i’m here. i am your favorite partner after all.” you joke, turning the moment he lets out a chuckle. you miss the way his eyes soften as he takes in the pretty view of you.

“true. but it’s not like you had much competition in the first place.”

“ha-ha. if you’re saying i win by default, then that’s just fine by—”

the moment the two of you step outside, an incoming call from hunnigan interrupts the lighthearted atmosphere. the sudden intrusion turns leon’s face somber once more, though he glances somewhat apologetically at you before answering.

no matter, you think. there’s plenty of time to spare for team-bonding.

[dark-corner-cunning]

Poppet Retribution Magick: Unleashing A Bellyful of Misfortune To Bring Financial Ruin

Update 5/7/24: My friend contacted me last night to let me know that Father has reached out and told them they could feel their pain and it has been weighing on him. 😁 He also wants to reconcile! This is exciting news for them and a new opportunity for them to build a relationship and heal together. Once I get the "Ok" from my friend I will release Father from his poppet.

Reader’s Notes: This working was originally constructed for a friend who wanted retribution against their father who abandoned and neglected them during childhood. They opted to hit their father where it would hurt him the most... his pockets... by any means necessary! We decided to go with a less intense sickness working and a working that reflected the weight of my friend's pain and sadness they have carried over the years. Also, if baneful, retribution or justice magick isn’t your jam…just quietly scroll on!! As always, feel free to take what resonates and leave the rest!

I did this working in alignment with the Solar Eclipse for more energy.

Please use safety as always with any working. This working uses fire, a sharp knife, and spicy pepper flakes.

Lastly, I am a "Words" witch... I love words of power (Mercury in my 10th house). You can always opt for no-words or you can record the sayings beforehand and play them on repeat at that step that requires that saying so that you can focus on the actions and energy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

When a father walks out on his family, it can feel like the ultimate betrayal. The pain and trauma caused by his abandonment can have lasting effects on everyone involved. But for those who believe in the powers of witchcraft, there may be a way to not only cope with the misfortune of a father's abandonment but also to seek justice for his greed and neglect. This is where witchcraft comes in.

Ingredients:

Mix all the ingredients from the 1st group in a bowl (except the roaches, snakeskin, and thorns) before stuffing. Be aware that the pepper flakes can and will burn your eyes, possibly your skin, and make your nose run.

Thorns – cursing & hexing, pain, discomfort

Stones – pain & discomfort.. I went with 9

Spiderwebs – ensnaring, halting, binding

Ash – suffocation

Wormwood – strife & misfortune

Stagnant Water – rut, stagnate, failed plans

Snakeskin – inhibits growth

Helter Skelter/Cursing Oil – destruction

Dead/Rotting Roaches – causes hardship, strife, infestation of sickness

Poppy Seed – confusion

Mustard Seed -disruption, prevent help

Hot Pepper/Red Pepper Flakes – accelerates, burns

Boneset – cursing

Apple of Peru/Shoo-Fly Plant – Reversing Wealth & Money

1 Poppet - I sewed a picture of "Father's" face to it... thanks FB! When making your poppet, make sure you place a piece of paper with the target's name and DOB inside beforehand.

1 Red Candle

1 Craft knife

1 Needle with Red String

Poppet Stuffing - In folk magick stuffing was quite literally anything that could be used. I choose polyfill... however, feel free to use whatever you like.

Black Cord or String - Binding

Optional: 1 Plant or Something "Alive" to Tether To

Optional: Pictures, Taglocks, Sigils, Petitions - You need at least a full name and date of birth.

Optional: Orange Candles and Road-Opener Oil - To be done beforehand to remove any protections and help with the working hitting harder.

Steps:

Activate the Poppet: “Poppet, I name you _. Your limbs are their limbs. Your flesh is their flesh. Your life is their life. As you suffer, so shall they suffer.”

Then thinking about the life force within... take a deep breath and blow life into the poppet. Think breathing for CPR.

The next step I did was a road opener & path-clearing. I used 5 candles to represent the elements, roads, and planes. Each candle had "Father's" name written on it and then anointed with a road opener oil. You can use whatever method of road opener you want here.

Once the road opener finished I then tethered the poppet to a plant. I did this by tying a vine from the plant to the poppet's arm and energetically tethered them together. Just remember to choose a plant or something that is easily taken care of after.

Tethered to this plant, my work shall be

Bound by nature's energy, I decree

All blow back shall fall upon the tether

For this spell, my power shall weather

With hands held high, I cast my charm

As the plant's roots dig deep, my magic is armed

From earth to sky, the tether extends

My working and this plant, now forever blend

The energy flows, from me to thee

As this plant, my spell's vessel be

Each leaf, each stem, a conduit of power

Growing stronger with each passing hour

No force of nature can break this bond

For my magic and this plant, forever correspond

Together they thrive, in harmony

Tethered as one, for all eternity

So let the winds howl and the storms rage

My spell shall stand strong, in this earthly cage

For all the energy of this spell

Is now tethered to this plant, with magic compel

So mote it be, this working is done

Tethered to this plant, this working is one

Then taking the craft knife cut the poppet's belly open. You will have to more than likely remove some stuffing to make some room for your stuffing. Stuff the poppet with your bowl mixture, stones, dead roaches, snakeskin, thorns, sigils, and what-not.

Swallow your greed with a belly full of stones

For it will bring you nothing but a life full of moans

Chasing after wealth, blind to the harm

Leaves you with a bitter taste, like a snake's charm

Choke on the lies you told yourself

That money and power were the only true wealth

But as you suffocate, reality sets in

Your failure and greed, now it's time to begin

Financial ruin, your once thriving business now failed

Your ego and pride, too great to be bailed

You mistreated your (daughter/son/Pronoun), a soul so pure

Abandoning & neglecting (pronoun), now it's your time to endure

So, Swallow your greed, let it be consumed With each stone, let your finances be doomed.

Then take the needle and thread and sew the belly closed. Once finished, take a red candle and seal the stitches.

Then take your black cord and bind the poppet. I chose to bind "Father" in a pentagram/elemental binding. The binding is started by being tied off at the neck, then the cord is wrapped around the left leg, then the right arm, then the left arm, then the right leg, and then back up to the neck. You can wrap this as many times as you like and you can certainly just bind your poppet however you like.

In the midst of chaos, in the midst of strife,

There lies a number, 5, that brings unexpected life.

It holds the power to shake things up, to make you lose control,

And in its grip, you are left to pay the ultimate toll.

Earth, air, fire, water, and the spirit within,

These 5 elements, a force to reckon and herein.

They bind you to this spell, a spell you cannot break,

And with each passing moment, your foundations start to shake.

The earth beneath your feet, solid and strong,

Yet when it quakes, you realize you were wrong.

The air you breathe, so vital to your existence,

But in a chaotic storm, it shows its true persistence.

Fire, the element of passion and desire,

But when it rages, it leaves you in dire.

Water, so calm and serene in its flow,

But in a flood, it can cause you to let go.

The spirit, the 5th element, unseen yet ever-present,

It binds you to this spell, a force so incessant.

It connects you all in ways you cannot comprehend,

And in its grasp, you are unable to defend.

And as these 5 elements collide and intertwine,

Your finances, too, fall victim to this bind.

For in the midst of chaos, your finances are unable to thrive,

And as your finances crumble, you are left with nothing to revive.

So by the power of 5, you descend,

For it holds a chaotic force that has no end.

And by the elements I bind you to this spell,

Remember, it is not a fight you can ever win or quell.

Once bound, then I untethered the plant and placed "Father" in a bucket of stagnant stormwater to drown in (this is symbolic of all the tears my friend has cried over the years) at the height of totality during the eclipse. I placed a cover over "Father" and there he will stay until the night of the full moon. Then I will take him out and bury him deep in the woods off my property to slowly rot.

[anangelwhodidntfall]

A New Star: Jake Sully

Avatar Masterlist 

word count: 1.2K

Request:  Hi! Can you please do a Jake x Pregnant! (Na’vi) Reader when Y/n goes into labor and has to have a C-section but because she is Na’vi she doesn’t know what that is and she starts to freak out and Jake tries to calm her and explain what a C-section is? I can send the request as a message if you want.

Background Info: 

C-section: It's when they give birth and they cut the lower stomach to get the baby out

Why c-sections happen: It's usually done for the safety of both mother and baby or if the baby is too big

The past eight months have been nothing short of amazing since you and Jake found out that you were expecting your first child together. You were so nervous to tell Jake at first worried about his reaction but instead, he was over the moon with joy that you were pregnant, that was the one thing he had wanted since you guys mated was to have a child or children born from the love you two shared. Jake was so wonderful during pregnancy, he constantly waited on your hand and foot and nothing was too much for him even if it was late-night cravings or holding your belly for a bit just to relieve you for a bit. There was no one else you rather have by your side during this.

"How are you two feeling my love?" Jake asked walking in and sitting behind you softly rubbing your back.

"Alright, I'm ready for them to come out." You said with a small laugh.

"Just a few more weeks my love. They will be here before you know it, is there anything else I can do to help you?" He asked you hating to see you in so much discomfort.

"Hmmm, a kiss or two since you didn't give me any when you came home today." You said with a pout as he laughed softly turning your head toward him and prepping your face with all kinds of kisses making you giggle.

"I love you sweet girl, and I love you, my child." He said kissing you and then kissing your bump making you smile.

"I love you too ma Jake." You said rubbing your nose against his.

A few weeks later you and Neytiri were talking when you felt pain in your stomach almost like a cramp, not really thinking anything of it because those have been happening a lot during your pregnancy, you went about your day well and tried to at least until they were almost a minute a part which made Neytiri help you up and try to get to her mother's.

"No Tiri, Jake he isn't......here..." You said as another contraction hit you.

"I will send someone to go get him...don't worry but we need to get you to my mother's." She said as you nodded your head.

Meanwhile Jake and Tsu'tey were coming back from their hunt from this morning when Neytiri came over to comms..

"Jake, do you copy?" She asked as screaming could be heard in the background.

"I copy, what is it Neytiri?" He asked worriedly.

"It's y/n, she getting ready to give birth....Tiri tell him to hurry his ass up, he promised he be here." He could hear you say.

"Go to her, I can handle everything from here." Tsu'tey said as Jake thanked him and ran towards the Hometree.

When he got to Mo'at's tent he saw Norm and Max there off to the side ready in case something happened while Mo'at worked and Neytiri held your hand trying to comfort you. Jake made his way to your side gently taking a seat next to you.

"Oh my sweet girl, I'm so sorry I wasn't here but look you are doing so good." He said pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Ma Jake, you made it." You said looking at him with a tired smile on your face.

"Hey y/n, we're just gonna do another quick scan to make sure everything is okay before we start, okay?" Norm asked as you nodded your head.

Jake watched as they placed the gel on your stomach before doing the scan but the look on their faces told him everything he needed to know.

"The baby is upside down meaning that during a normal pregnancy, the fetus during birth is head-down, facing the mother's back but your's feet first...so we are gonna have to a c-section in order to deliver them safely." Max explained as panic rose through you.

"C-section? What is that?" You asked anxiously.

"They're gonna probably put you under and cut you right about here so they can safely deliver the baby..." Jake explained looking to Norm for backup.

"Yeah it will only be an hour y/n, you won't feel anything." Norm said trying to comfot you as you shook your head no.

"Mo'at?" You asked her nervously.

"This is the way my child, everything will be fine I promise." She said to you not really helping calm you down as Jake could still feel you shaking.

"Baby look at me, hey look at me... I'm not gonna let anything happen to you or our baby okay? Max and Norm know what they are doing, and I'm gonna be right here the entire time, so I just want you to relax and let them handle it from here, you've done wonderful caring for them the last nine months, now it's time to meet them." He said as you nodded your head.

"It's gonna be okay, when you wake up, our child will be here. I love you, my sweet girl." He said pressing a kiss to your lips.

"I love you too Ma Jake." You said to him giving him a small smile.

You let everyone know that you were ready to proceed with the C-section, Norm came over and put a breathing mask over your face, and hooked some wires up to you so they could monitor your stats during the operation.

The operation took about an hour to complete once they started, and soon enough a beautiful baby boy was pulled out and shown off and Jake swore his heart stopped from seeing his son...a life he helped create. He watched as Mo'at cleaned the baby and looked over it with a smile on her face, before handing it to Max.

"Dad, would you like to hold him, while we sew mom up?" Max asked walking over to Jake.

Jake gently took his son in his arms, smiling down at him as his son wrapped his hand around his finger. Jake could already tell that ya'lls son was going to look like you when he got older, he could see your features in his.

"Ma Jake....?" You asked tiredly.

"Hi sweet girl, how are you feeling?" He asked turning towards you.

"Tired...how did it go? Where's the baby?" You asked making him smile as Norm came to help you sit up so you didn't tear your stitches.

"Our baby is a he who looks exactly like you....and he is right here." Jake said placing him in your arms watching as a smile spread across your face.

"Your so perfect.." You said quietly to yourself as Jake put his arm around you.

"What are you gonna name him?" Neytiri asked.

"'Äokx Te Pxun'll Lätstxut'itan." You said with a smile on your face as Jake pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm so proud of you." He said to you.

"Thank you, but I couldn't have done without you." You said pressing a kiss to his lips.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

WT 2024 #20: "Giving Permission to Die"

The Sentry and the Strays - My science fiction universe set in the distant future.

Summary: After a harrowing rescue, Ted gives Charlie permission to die.

WC: 1322

“I’ll watch him.” 

The three words took Kydd by surprise. He craned his aching neck to take in the surprise visitor. Of all people, he was not expecting his chief engineer to be watching from the door. 

“Ted.” He rasped, a little surprised at the intrusion at such a late hour. His hand hadn’t left Charlie's hand. 

“I’ll watch him.” Ted said again, a complicated expression on his face. Kydd’s heart began to pound a little. He knew Charlie was going to be fine - he knew he wasn’t doing any good just sitting by and waiting. But there was something about this kid that got under his skin and etched through his veins. 

Suddenly, Ted was at his side, shifting from foot to foot as though fighting his instincts to walk away as he had done so many times before. Just the fact he was in the room told Kydd he was serious. 

Finally, the man met his eyes. 

“You’re exhausted. I can watch him, at least for a little while so you can eat, shower and get some sleep in an actual bed.” Said Ted, only to be met by a scoff. 

“What makes you think I haven’t been.” Uttered Kydd. 

“Because you’ve been here for days.” 

“You’re not the first person to be telling me that.” 

“Then let me be the first to tell you that you’re not doing anyone any favours by just sitting here. Charlie’s not going anywhere and I know you want to promise him that you’ll stay, but sleep while you can, he’ll need you to be strong for him when he wakes up. I know for a fact that he wouldn’t notice you missing for a few hours.”

Kydd’s eyes filled with tears, and Ted’s face contorted in discomfort and concern. 

“Like how we didn’t notice that he’d gone.” The Captain rasped. Ted’s heart shattered. 

“No. We didn’t.” He amended after a moment. “But running yourself into the ground isn’t going to solve that.”

“You’re- you’re right, I should rest.” Kydd sniffed and stood, still reluctant to let go of Charlie’s hand. Ted slipped his hand between them, allowing Kydd to finally let go. He stood idle for a moment, feeling troubled by being untethered from the boy. He swallowed, thanked Ted with a clap on the shoulder, and shuffled off on creaking knees, allowing his body to adjust to the motions of walking. 

Without thinking Ted took his place in the chair; still warm from days of having someone occupy it. He spent the next few hours just watching, and waiting. It was intoxicating. The anticipation that something could happen at any moment had him glued to the spot, and within minutes he was hooked; he understood why others had spent hours alone with him. It was as soothing as it was disconcerting; to be alone, though not truly. 

Ted took in every detail he had tried to forget since they pulled him from the rubble. The metal brace on his leg created a considerable landscape from under blankets desperate to keep his temperature at a normal level, despite the low level fever that had been present in the last forty-eight hours. 

Due to the harsh nature of some of the restorative medicine they had to hand, Charlie's body was still covered in deep scrapes, bruises and burns that had been left to heal in the open air. His head was their biggest concern. He’d taken a tremendous blow when the station disintegrated around him, and the rooms bled O2 faster than he could breathe, so it was a matter of time before they found out the true extent of the damage. 

Would he remember them? Did Ted want him to remember? The harsh words, the rejection and the expectation for him to just make it on his own? Would he want Charlie to remember the pain? Given the sheer damage caused to his already malnourished body - only malnourished after so many months away from the Strays - would it be kinder to let him go? HIs ribs had already been broken by a previous round of CPR just trying to get him back to the safety of the Arc; another round would surely kill him… 

“Charlie, Kydd would never say this - he’d never want to… but I’ll understand if you don’t want to wake back up. You’ve done enough. You don’t have to give us the satisfaction of being able to apologise to you… you don’t have anything to prove. You showed us your loyalty time and time again. And we owe you everything but I’d understand if you never wanted to take it. I wouldn’t blame you if you use us to fully heal, steal a ship and never look back. I don’t blame you if you want to turn any of us in. I don't blame you if the first thing you do is shout and scream and curse us out. I deserve it atleast. Looking back, I had every opportunity to find out what you meant. I had every means to understand your circumstances but I simply refused because I was angry and- and petty. I mean this with my whole heart Charlie that I never hated you. I hated your circumstances. I hated where you came from so much that I didn’t even get to see the man you had become. I was so afraid of losing everything I knew, that I nearly lost something equally as important. My family - you.” 

Ted didn’t realise he was crying until a terrible sob tore from his throat. 

“S-so I don’t blame you if you decide that sleeping is kinder than the outside world. I do not blame you if you decide to rejoin the stars. One day I’ll join you, if you let me that is… but then I don’t blame you if even in death you prefer to remain alone…

Just remember you don't have to be - not anymore.”

Ted took his free hand to wipe the tears, steading his breaths to at least remain somewhat composed should someone walk in. In that moment, he felt exposed and vulnerable - an uncomfortable feeling nonetheless, only made worse by Charlie’s stillness broken by the occasional rise and fall of his chest from the oxygen mask. Aia said that a positive was that he was now breathing on his own - a huge step up from how they found his lifeless body - yet he was terrified that he’d just stop. Despite every permission he’d just given Charlie, his biggest fear was that the younger man would actually take him up on them. But when was Charlie one to follow the rules? Ever since they met, if he didn’t like or agree with something, he made sure to change it to suit the logic in his mind. He couldn’t complain as the job got done, and over time Ted grew to appreciate the gymnastics that Charlie’s mind went through to get to his conclusions. 

The second Ted stopped trying to correct him, and rather work with him, the easier their relationship became. 

“I see what Kydd means by you getting under our skin.” Ted huffed, somewhat annoyed, though if anyone was there to hear him they’d know he was being far from malicious. The tears began to flow, this time in earnest as Ted’s chest heaved. 

“You are worth so much more than you will ever know, to all of us, Charlie. I know why you did what you did but… It shouldn’t have been you. You didn’t have to fix something you didn’t break. You didn’t have to go to those lengths…”

“But he did.” 

Ted’s tear-filled eyes snapped to the end of the bed, where Yve stood, smiling sadly at the pair. Startled, the engineer immediately stood; chair launching behind him as he tried to smooth his clothes despite the teardrops on his tunic. He cleared his throat.

“He did.” Nodded Ted. “Stubborn bastard.”

[sehtoast]

A Shoulder to Lean On (Homelander x OC)

1k | Homelander speaks to Ben about Stillwell after her demise | Fic Directory

“How long had you two been..?”  Ben trailed off.  Didn’t quite know what to call their situation.  “Uhm… Close?”

It’d been roughly a week and a half since Homelander came to him searching for the one place he knew he could crumble and be held together.  He’d killed her, of course.  That much was clear even before he admitted it outright.

This territory was fairly new between them but Ben had a feeling no one had ever let Homelander have this before. This release, this safety, this understanding that he could offload some of his troubles and not be judged as weak.

He was understandably atrocious at actually doing it.  Chuckling through stories, looking away when he got choked up.

It didn’t matter, though.  At least he was trying.

And Ben?

Well, Benjamin was there to listen.  To be the shoulder to cry on that Homelander’s never quite had in his life.

“I–” He tried, shaking his head.  “A while, I guess.  I dunno…”

The web-head rubbed soothing circles against Homelander’s back.  He’d convinced him to shed the cape and gloves, to drop at least a piece of the facade, small as it may have been.

“You can be more than just Homelander here,” Ben had told him.  “It’s okay to be John, too.”

In the background, the TV played on low volume.  Flashes of action scenes from a Vought special illuminated the darkness of the living room.  They tended to air a lot, but they made for good background noise.

“She never– It’s… It was something.”

It’s always something, isn’t it?

Ben’s hand crept up to thumb at the nape of Homelander’s neck.  He always did seem to react pleasantly to soothing touch.  Like it dulled the edge of his misery.  His anger.

His pain.

For a time, they sat in silence– save for the movie.  Ben continued his gentle touches, still mystified at his lack of discomfort when it came to touching Homelander.  He never was particularly tactile, but…

Well, here he is getting The Homelander himself to open up.  Seems they both had a special way with one another.

“I really wanted her to love me…”  Homelander rasped suddenly, voice tight in his throat.

Ben’s eyes widened, but he made no move to speak when he heard that first sniffle.  Not when he saw Homelander wipe aggressively at his eyes.

“I really wanted to fucking mean something to her!”  He sniveled. “Fucking a-anything!  I tried so fucking hard to be enough!”

The bug shifted slightly closer to Homelander, wrapping his arm across his shoulders.  He didn’t know what else to do, really.  Homelander leaned into his embrace, though, so it must have been the right choice.

“She–”  He shuddered, nuzzling against Ben to hide how much of a mess he was becoming.  “I’ve never–” But he couldn’t tell Benjamin the truth.  Couldn’t tell the wall crawler about the way he grew up, couldn’t bear rehashing all of that on top of this… 

If only he had any idea how much Benjamin truly knew…

“Shh, Johnny,” Ben cooed, using that nickname that always seemed to soften the edges.  “I know.”

He’d deduced a lot from when Homelander would talk about her.  The way she dangled her love like a carrot on a stick since the day she first met him.  Always leading him along, tempting him with just enough to keep him malleable, just enough promises kept to keep him well behaved, just enough to build a career off of the hold she established on him.  Ben gathered that it all only came to a head once her hold on him began to waver and she tore down the last walls, baiting him with physical intimacy far more than ever before.

Giving him hope.

Who knows?  If she hadn’t lied to Homelander about his child, Madelyn Stillwell might have survived another day.  But she did, so she didn’t.

Homelander looked at the TV from under wet lashes, content to let Benjamin continue resting his chin atop his head, stroking soothingly up and down his back. On the screen was the hero getting the girl.  Getting his happily ever after, his perfect world, saving the day and being loved by everyone.

How he wished that were him…

“... m’afraid to be alone.” 

Ben didn’t speak.  He knew sometimes that was best, especially given the weight of such a statement.  He leaned back against the couch, gently bringing Homelander with him, petting through his hair.  The angle was a little awkward, but Homelander seemed not to care.

“M’scared no one… that no one’s ever gonna love me the way I love them.”

What an all too understandable plight.  Benjamin hugged him closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his hair.

After some time, he decided to speak up.

“I’m proud of you, y’know?”  Ben murmured.  Obviously not for having killed her, but… “That was a lot just then, wasn’t it?”

He meant that confession, of course.

Homelander simply nodded against him.  It was humiliating.  Purely fucking humiliating to have finally said it out loud.

But somehow it was okay.

“And you’re not alone,” Ben continued.  “You’re kind of stuck with me.”

Benjamin made it okay.

“And I love you,” Ben declared softly.  

Though, at the time, the statement was contextually between friends, Homelander heard it differently.

Felt it resonate in his chest, reverberate into his limbs, dance in his mind.

Benjamin loved him.

His little spider loved him.

“Thank you…”

[peaches2217]

Hii!

Do you have any headcanons on when Peach, (or any of the other [human] mario girls) got their.....you know....when they entered into womanhood?

If this makes you uncomfortable, i'm so sorry!!

I just remember my first time, I thought I was dying and I cried. I wouldn't come out of my room, but my mom bought me starbucks and mcdonalds and told me everything was gonna be okay, LOL!!

Not uncomfortable at all, no worries! In fact, I’ve got some Peach-centric headcanons of the sort, so I’m very happy you asked~

I’ll preface this with a note, though: menstration isn’t exclusive to women, nor is it a mark of womanhood! There’s plenty of men and gender-nonconforming people who get periods. There’s plenty of women who don’t. Some get them before fully hitting puberty and some get them many years after undergoing puberty. It’s less “entering into womanhood” and more “a common side-effect of having a uterus,” so remember to keep that in mind! And know, both you and anyone else reading this, that this is a topic I’m perfectly comfortable touching on here, so never feel awkward about bringing it up with me.

Now! Onto the headcanons!

Peach had some idea at least about what to expect; since her parents died when she was young; she had to learn about her body through books and what little Toadsworth knew. She knew that she’d probably start bleeding at some point, so she wasn’t surprised or horrified when it happened.

What she didn’t account for was how much it would hurt.

She read that she might expect some discomfort, especially the first few times, and Toadsworth confirmed that her mother would feel a bit nauseous and cranky whenever she got hers. Peach got way more than that. The cramping was both constant and severe, to the point that she couldn’t physically get out of bed for most days of her cycle, and she bled so heavily that, when she could get out of bed, she had to brace herself against furniture just to get anywhere because she was so dizzy. And Toadsworth wasn’t around when her mother was a teenager; he didn’t know if this was normal any more than Peach did.

What he did know was that his little girl was suffering, and whether it was “normal” or not, he wouldn’t stand for it. So he brought in a very celebrated, very expensive human doctor from the Metro Kingdom to offer guidance and advice.

Peach was put on oral contraceptives to alleviate her symptoms, and she, Toadsworth, and the nurses and medics of the palace were all given thorough lessons about the internal workings of the human body and how the contraceptives would help. The first time she got her period and was still able to go about her daily duties, Peach actually cried.

In the present, she’s still afflicted with painful periods every so often, but they’re much more manageable than they were before the medication. It helps that she eventually marries a man with the power to summon fire and heat with his bare hands — and he’s more than happy to be a sentient heating pad whenever she needs it!

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - Chapter 3

I get dinner prepared and have it ready for Gale on the stove once he’s finished with his studies. Sweet potatoes, green beans, and some delicious steak I got from a nearby butcher. I ate just a little, but nausea found me again like a cold-blooded killer, so I lay back down on the sofa, feeling overwhelmed with these disgusting feelings. The body aches make themselves present as well, bringing an overwhelming extra sense of discomfort along with the struggle to breathe properly, as if a heavy stone is sitting on my lungs.

“Emmy, my dear, won’t you go to the city to see a doctor?” Tara asks, sitting on my legs. I sigh and begin scratching her tiny, soft head. She purrs as I stroke her soft fur with the tips of my fingers.

“Is there even a doctor here in Waterdeep? Surely there is, right?” I ask. Droplets of sweat pour down my forehead like waterfalls, but chills cover my entire body. Hot flashes certainly are not a good sign.

“Unfortunately, no. There was, but they left. Now, one must travel to Baldur’s Gate to get any sort of treatment. With the evil gone, it would be worth a try.”

“I’m a little paranoid of doctors anyway, thanks to the House of Healing.” The scalpels. The blood. The screeches of the nurses.

“The House of…what?” I forgot Tara wasn’t familiar with the disturbing events that happened in the Shadowlands, one of them being a fucked-up doctor who murdered patients and considered it curing them. In the name of Shar, of course. The images of a hollowed-out human head and the mutilation of the human torso isn’t exactly a pleasant memory I want to be reminded of.

“Nevermind.”

“If you want to feel better, you will need to travel to Baldur’s Gate, I’m afraid.” Hearing the words ‘Baldur’s Gate’ is bringing back more trauma than I anticipated, and I was born there. How things have changed ever so drastically, but how badly I want to find answers. Maybe it won’t be so bad; maybe the entire city has changed since the death of Lord Enver Gortash and his obnoxious Steel Watch.

“What do you think could be wrong with me?” I ask, my voice raspy and weak. “I’ve never felt so awful. Well, not in a long time anyway. Not since the Bhaal Temple.” Ah, yes. The lingering odor of rotting corpses is definitely hard to forget. Then again, the adrenaline rush made it hard for me to stay sick and eventually the rancid odor was easily accustomed to. Sad, isn’t it?

“I don’t want to say, just because I don’t want Gale to overhear me.” Tara knows something, or at least has a strong suspicion, but why doesn’t she want Gale to know? “Plus, I could always be wrong.”

Gale comes down to the kitchen, grabbing his dinner but notices my dreary body on the sofa shortly after. He stares at my heavy eyes, bags sagging underneath them as if I’m a decaying corpse or rapidly aging somehow. My fatigue is making itself known, inside and out. Back when I was fighting and saving the day, no spells would make me feel this dreadful, so whatever this is must be serious.

“Baby, we need to take you to a doctor. As soon as possible.” His voice is filled with concern; he can’t stand to see me like this. I groan loudly, but take a moment to catch my breath. Walking to Baldur’s Gate will be a huge pain in my body, but surely I’m not dying. Whatever it takes, right?

“Can’t we just…call Shadowheart? Where’s that old man Withers?” Gale laughs lightly, admiring my humor but it quickly fades to a serious tone again.

“You’re so cute. Well, we can certainly try to summon the bone man, but I’m not quite sure neither him or Shadowheart will be able to assist in your vile and spontaneous predicament.”

“Unfortunately, we will need our other companions regardless. It seems the only option is to go to Baldur’s Gate for some sort of diagnosis or cure.” Gale sits down by my feet, rubbing them with his bare hands. He half-smiles as he delicately attends to my aching body, but I can see in his eyes a sense of fear.“I assume Tara told you. Quite the intelligent tressym she is. Must have gotten it from her father,” Gale teases. I can’t help but laugh at his little comment. I often wonder how this man loves me as much as he does; I’m no sage.

“Well, of course she did! Now, wait…” Gale gives me a puzzled expression. “It’ll take us days to get there and you work at the Academy tomorrow.” He kissed my forehead, and at that very moment I realized the heat radiating off my body; I could feel it on his lips. A fever.

“It’s much appreciated that you consider my job in mind, but you mean the world to me and your life is valuable. I don’t want to risk losing you again. Plus, a fever is certainly not a good sign. What if you have some sort of internal infection? You never know how the world is nowadays.”

So, we decided to call upon Withers. We found him in a tomb and he, for some reason, has helped us ever since. He can help resurrect those who die (most of the time, anyway), and can assist us in various ways if we’re struggling. He’s been a godsend to us.He gave us a spell for us to summon him in case we’re in danger or need of dire assistance: Mort Tal Witheris. At that very moment it was cast by Gale, he showed up in our living room. His decayed skeleton-like body and gentle mannerisms are hard to forget. I wonder what the old bone man has been up to these days.

“Ah, Withers. Thank the Gods the spell worked. Listen, we have a very urgent…uh…task that we need to handle,” Gale says, then looks over at me with sad eyes, realizing I’m becoming more weak by the minute. Withers makes eye contact with me, observing my body’s weakness and nods his head slowly. It’s as if he knows and Gale doesn’t even have to tell him. The question is, does he know what’s wrong with me? Surely the honest and blunt Withers would say what it is, right?

“Ah, thou art in need of services. It appears she is very weak and needs medical attention urgently. I advise the journey over to Baldur’s Gate but it appears there will need to be extra assistance on the way there. Does thou need the former companions to make their way there?” It’s as if Withers immediately knew the urgency of the situation and figured it would be hard for Gale to fight alone, in case anything were to happen along the way.

“Oh thank Withers… We need our companions to help assist us on yet another journey to Baldur’s Gate. Emmy is violently ill and I can’t have her fight if there is danger. Is this something you can help us with?” Gale and Withers both look at my dreadful eyes and weak posture.

“I shall call upon thy companions to guide you along this journey. May the weave protect her and the spawn as you make your way back to Baldur’s Gate. Wait here for a moment.” Withers vanishes into thin air, a cloud of vapor lingering around the room for a moment.

“Wait, what did he mean by ‘spawn’? I wonder if he was referring to Tara,” Gale teases.

“Gale! I’m offended!” I laugh at Tara’s remark with her sassy tone. Hopefulness is more present than doubt at this point, and I’m really looking forward to finding a solution to this illness. It doesn’t feel like a stomach bug, but rather much worse. Please don’t let it be some sort of infection or parasite. I could honestly live with anything else.

Just a few moments later, Withers appears in the room once more.

“Thy companions should be here by tomorrow. Please make sure she stays hydrated. It’s more vital than you acknowledge.”

“Thank you,” I say with a soft voice. He nods and vanishes once more. I wonder where he disappears in the meantime. Gale and I look at each other, both of us just a little nervous but thankful that Withers came through after all. I wonder what lies in store for us?

“Well, Withers is helping us, and I’m forever grateful for it. That’s a good sign,” I comment, my voice weak as the words escape my lips.

“True. Despite the rather petrifying circumstances, it’s a good day. We’ll get to see our old friends once more, just like we talked about earlier.” Though feeling rather vile, I do have a small glimmer of excitement that’s keeping me going.

[noirs-pages]

Abel 1

Summary: Abel stretched himself thin and now he has to rest in your care. To this day, you still call him by his code name, Crusnik.

(As you can see, I’m a bit of a fan of the older anime and series I can get my hands on. Trinity Blood is an old favorite, specifically the manga version. I love Abel’s hair. I really so do like the men with long hair.)

“How cruel, you just let me fall…” He groaned on the floor, clutching the legs of a nearby nightstand to try and fail to get up. Little tears dot the edges of his eyes and all you can think is how pathetically adorable he is, even if this was all an act to bury his discomfort from your eyes.

Really, he can never be truly vulnerable with anyone, so for him to even struggle with walking, with someone to witness him as he flounders about, he has to place some humor in.

“You don’t learn lessons when they’re told to you,” you stated as you sipped your drink, “It’s not my fault you didn’t believe me when I said you’re not in any state of walking. Besides, I just like seeing you sprawled on the floor like that. It’s entertaining.”

Of course, you didn’t leave him there for long. After one or two attempts at trying to stand on his feet, you reached down and lugged the man back onto the bed that you really should replace. You’ve had it for too many years. You can tell too when Crusnik you saw his face pinch into a held back wince.

“I suppose you do like to see me in a fair bit of pain.” Oh, look at that, he can let go of his silly old man-ish tendencies. Though that smile of his was less subdued, as though joking with himself, it had a serenity to it that reminded you of the moons in the sky. It wasn’t a permanent sight though. He caught himself with a nervous waving of his hands. “Oh! Not that I’m suggesting that you’re a torturer or the like! Sorry, sorry.”

“No need to sugarcoat the truth at my expense, Crusnik,” you pulled the blankets up to his shoulders, just to be nice. He grabbed them, like a kid being put to bed though wanted more than anything to jump out. “I can’t deny any of it.”

“…Crusnik, huh?” Crusnik mumbled out, tasting his own code name. He looked a bit dour. “My name isn’t something forbidden. You can call me Abel. Or Father. Or Father Nightroad. I won’t be mad.”

You could. You could most certainly scream his name to the sea if you wanted to, in joy or in anger. It’s not as though you’ll receive some divine punishment if you do. And, the both of you are friends to one another, or a least amiable enough to warrant such a status.

“I’m aware, Crusnik. No need to worry your head over it.” You leaned over and lifted Abel’s head just to sweep his hair back from the jumbled mess it was.

However, you know him. Perhaps it’s because you’re eyes are too sharp or you’ve spent too many years around seedy terrans and methuselah alike to know when people are not truly open with you. Crusnik’s a good man. A funny man. An entertaining one certainly. But you know an act when you see it. He’s let himself slip one too many times for you to believe it didn’t exist.

Abel Nightroad is a good man, and will tell everyone who asks how dear of a friend you are to him. And yet, this very status is what makes him tighten up that mask of his. He really, truly doesn’t want you to poke into him too deeply, to see what makes Abel Nightroad the man that he is.

So, to you, he is just Crusnik, not Abel. How right he is, to call you cruel.

[the-californicationist]

Goldfish (SanSan AU) - 4/8

Warnings: descriptions of abuse, canon-mentioned abuse and domestic violence, mention of ramsay bolton, modern au, oral and vaginal sex

Sandor flipped on the small lamp on his dining table and moved into the kitchen, digging in the cupboard to find glasses. He set his eyes on a dusty scotch bottle he’d been hiding from himself for a while now. He’d kept telling himself he’d save it for a really great night. Tonight was as good as it was going to get. 

“Love your place. It’s quiet here,” she complimented him, dragging out a chair and sitting down at his table. 

He grunted in acknowledgment, letting her praise slide by him. It was a foreign feeling. 

“Here, little bird. I think you’ll like this better than that Wildling swill, hm?” Sandor poured her a generous two fingers of amber liquor, hoping she’d be impressed by the warm vanilla notes and comforting peaty smoke. 

She put her lips to the rim and groaned with pleasure. He almost dropped his cup at her delicious noise, recovering quickly but feeling his cock swell. Down boy, bad dog.  

“This is like heaven, isn’t it?” She whispered with disbelief. 

He basked in her praise again, more brazen this time,

“At least I could keep that promise, hm?”

He saw that she knew what he truly meant. It was self-deprecating. After she had been targeted by Joffrey and his demonic brutality, the Hound had offered to take her home, knowing it would cost him his job. She’d refused. Then, he’d left anyway, abandoning her there after he’d promised her she’d be safe with him. She wasn’t. And he didn’t keep his word. After all of their reunions over the years, it was the one secret between them that didn't need any commentary. A shared skeleton in their shared closet.

She fixed her glare at him, setting the glass down decisively. Then, instead of chastising him, she leaned forward and told him something else,

“You know, when you left, I always thought I’d made a mistake. I kept kicking myself, knowing that I should have come with you. But, after that awful accident in the Lannister’s lake house. The fire, you remember? Joff told me about you. About what happened. After that, I never blamed you for a moment. I would have left, too.”

The Hound swallowed the bile that had risen up in his throat,

“He told you?”

She nodded, taking a long sip and pulling her hair over to one side, fidgeting. Sansa wasn’t done with him though. She looked into her glass like it was a crystal ball, reading her past aloud to him,

“Joff would always threaten me with you while he beat me. He thought he could use you to scare me. ‘If the Hound were here…’ blah blah blah,” she laughed softly, “but I don’t think he realized that those words got me through it. I imagined that you were there. I fantasized about what it would look like when you came up behind him and stuck your knife in his neck.”

Sandor was shocked at her admission. It was so wrathful, but she had said it without any sliver of pain or discomfort. He frowned,

“I wish I had been there. I would have done exactly that. That fucking prick should have died many years ago.”

Sansa shrugged,

“He was nothing compared to Ramsay.”

The room’s silence became oppressive. They could hear the buzz of the bulb in the table lamp, the thrum of their hearts in their chests. His sank. He whispered to her,

“Little bird, I -”

She waved her hand again, dismissing his pity like a bothersome fly over her meal. She finished her scotch and looked deep into his eyes,

“He…I didn’t…I was just…” she tried to start her sentence and failed. 

Sandor wasn’t sure if it was the whisky or the last remaining ounce of courage he had buried in himself, but he reached over the table and took her hand in his. Her fingers were cold and trembling. Her skin was soft like a rabbit. Her bones were fragile beneath his grip. 

Her face turned hateful as she held his hand, gently squeezing him back. The wolf creature that lay coiled inside Sansa’s deceptively delicate body awoke to tell him about its recent vengeance. It spoke through her,

“I didn’t tell anyone this, but I guess it doesn't matter who I tell now," she took a long pause before continuing, "I watched him die. I told everyone I ran back up to the house, but I didn’t. I watched the hounds tear him apart. They shook him, hard. Once they found a place to bite, they would just shake and shake until that skin or that bone, whatever they had grabbed, broke off. Ripped off. They’d find another place to bite down into, and they’d shake again. It became almost funny to watch. He looked like he was doing some stupid kind of dance. Screaming. He was so pitiful, and his voice was so high pitched. He didn't even sound like himself. By the time I turned to run into the house, he was scattered all over the kennel in pieces. I should have been horrified by it,” she looked up at Sandor then, her eyes still snarling, full of ire, “but I laughed. The entire time. It was...fun. I had fun.”

She stopped for a moment and put both of her hands into his grip, holding him closer to her, smiling,

“You tried to scare me once. You told me that there was nothing sweeter than killing. I honestly thought you were crazy, then. Who would say that? But, you never lied to me. You were right, Sandor.”

A normal man would have mourned the loss of her innocence. It would have been normal to be worried and to pity her. To be disgusted by her cruelty. She was supposed to be a delicate rose - perfect and untouched, completely thornless. But, Sandor hated that. He had always wanted her to find her fangs. He hoped she wouldn't have to use them, but here she was, snarling with them. And she had used him for her strength! His chest swelled with pride and possessive desire. He'd been her mental anchor in all of her dark days? Unthinkable.

It was like he was seeing her for the first time all over again. No longer was he looking at a scared, helpless child. He had come face to face with the most violent, brutish murderers in the nasty little hell the Lannisters had created for him, but he had never felt the cold flood of fear like he did now. Her viciousness was intoxicating. Sansa Stark was more wolf than woman, and he wanted to taste her power.

He came undone. Breaking glass, scraping tile, and creaking wood filled the silent room in an abrupt calamity as he yanked her halfway across the table. He slammed his mouth to hers in a ferocious kiss, and she clawed down his neck, pulling him further over the tabletop. She tasted like the scotch, and she smelled like the smoke of the bar, and Sandor Clegane fell into her like Alice into her rabbit hole: violently and with no way to return. 

[stevensaus]

How My Colonoscopy Led To An Existential Crisis

So I had a colonoscopy with anesthesia yesterday, and my restless legs managed to generate a bit of an existential crisis. I've spoken before about my experience with restless legs syndrome -- and how I am one of the "lucky" 10% who get to experience it as pain. That was a concern of mine when I was checking in for the colonoscopy; because the medications I take for it effect the nervous system, I did not want to accidentally depress {1} prior to any kind of anesthesia. In addition, a front had moved in overnight, so I was pretty twitchy and in a non-trivial amount of discomfort; it had gotten up to a six or so on the drive over. The anesthesiologist was very nice as I explained my concern, and said it shouldn't be an issue. As they put the anesthetic in the IV, I explained to the anesthesiologist that I was asking so many questions in order to get the details right if I wrote about it later, and then I woke up in recovery. That part went really well (and my results seem good as well). But it was less simple for those doing the procedure. They told me afterward that almost immediately after I went under, I began jerking and moving my legs and arms {2}. They were able to complete the procedure, but just barely, given how much I was moving. While completely unconscious. This is not the first time that my brain and body have done things without my conscious knowledge. Last weekend, when my amour and I were watching TV at night -- I was extremely tired and also in a large amount of pain -- I woke up standing in front of the refrigerator with my amour asking if I was okay, and what I was doing. Earlier this year, I had an extremely bad incident where I woke up upstairs in my son's room (he wasn't home at the time) and had eaten some very expired candy he had up there {3}. It usually only happens when I'm so tired (or medicated) that I cannot help but fall asleep, but the pain is great enough that it keeps me from... well, completely falling asleep. It is -- to put it mildly -- fucking strange to wake up somewhere different when you don't remember falling asleep. We all experience times of decreased consciousness -- the times you drive on "automatic" and don't remember driving home arguably count -- but it is usually bracketed by a conscious intent to go somewhere or do something, and then its completion. {4} One common assumption is not that we're truly not conscious, but that we just don't bother remembering it. To have a sudden scene change like I've had is wildly disorienting. Until yesterday, I could tell myself that I wasn't unconscious -- I just didn't remember. Yesterday, I learned that is not true. Parts of my brain -- and my body -- were reacting to stimuli while I was completely unconscious {5} under anesthetic, lending credence to the idea that my other wanderings and other behaviors were also while my consciousness was offline. Making the idea that things like "driving on automatic" really are entirely without the benefit of our consciousness getting involved all the more plausible. There are studies that indicate our consciousness -- at least sometimes -- gets informed of what we decide to do after we start to do it {6}, but actually experiencing it is something else. Your consciousness -- the you part of you -- isn't the only entity driving that meat mech you're in. {1} The clinical sense of decreased function, not the emotion of "depressed." {2} Thanks to "augmentation," I now experience it in not just my ankles, but sometimes in my wrists as well. {3} I seem to seek out sugar and sweets -- to the extent that I can sometimes tell if the pain is going to be bad because I notice myself craving sweets up to a half hour before I register the pain. The best I can figure is that sweets are a mild analgesic for humans, and it's also a quick dopamine hit, and dopamine seems to be involved in RLS. {4} Oddly, even when I was drinking -- and at times I drank a lot -- I didn't have blackout experiences, so I can't compare the two. {5} While ketamine and versed cause sedation and "anterograde amnesia," not unconsciousness, the propofol they used does create unconsciousness. {6} Along with rebuttals that move the goalposts of where "conscious" is. Featured Image by aytuguluturk from Pixabay Read the full article

[erinsworld]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FicWip!! 🥳

Couple snippets from some Jack Dalton whump WIPs I've been working on. Even though I told myself my New Year Resolution was going to be no more new WIPs until I got at least a couple of the dozens upon dozens unfinished WIPs actually finished. 🤷‍♀️

How…ah…,” Jack wheezes, “How many times is too many to g’stung?”

For the second time in as many minutes his partner causes Mac to stop short. His mind spins as he pulls from his memory the species that are native to the area. Quickly disregarding those incapable of stinging, leaving him a list that is still too long. Still too deadly.

“What stung you, Jack?”

“Some, uh… Yellow stripey things.”

“Yellow…” Mac shakes his head. Any other time Mac would be amused at his partner’s creative—or not so creative—use of words. But this isn’t one of those times.

“I need specifics, Jack. Specifics,” Mac reiterates. “Exactly what they look like. Exactly how they acted.”

“How they acted?” Jack repeats, the southern in his tone growing thicker as his voice raises. “I’ll tell y’how they acted… They took those needles they have on their goddamn asses and stuck ‘em into me is what they did. Over and over.”

*

Stripped from the waist up, he doesn’t give them the satisfaction of even a twitch as he is slammed down, the surface so frigid against his flesh that if he didn’t know any better, he’d think he was just dropped onto an open flame.

He lies pliant as shackles are cinched around his wrists and bare feet, the cool steel already leaching ice beneath his bruised skin and into his veins.

“Oh!... That’s cold,” he snarks, head turned and addressing their mysterious host who he knows stands in the shadows, watching, waiting, biding his time.

“How ‘bout a blanket? Hmmm? And not one of those wool ones either, those are hella scratchy against my delicate skin… something in the fleece family.”

He makes a show of getting comfortable, body relaxing like he’s spending the afternoon lying on Mac's couch watching the Cowboys and not bound, prone and exposed, to a table.

Just that tiny movement that his bonds allow hurts. Prickles of pain stab into his flesh and cascade down his back and he channels the grimace of discomfort that wants to crease his face into a shark-toothed grin.

Six years ago while I was driving to work, I came up with a hashtag game for fic writers. And somehow here we are!

To celebrate, instead of Word Game Wednesday, we're going to play our namesake: the original #ficwip

how to play

Share an excerpt from any WIP

All fandoms & ships are welcome

Disclose the fandom & all ships mentioned

Give a head's up about sensitive content

If you make a new post, tag it #ficwip so we can find it!

Then go read some excerpts from other authors. Give each other some love and encouragement!

[prettytailoredsunflower]

Rudolph, Misfit Island, Gifted Child Burnout, & Mastering the Art of Perseverance

Petal 34

Isn’t it funny how being a nerd is actually an upgrade in life nowadays? It used to be so uncool to be into books or coding or anything remotely non mainstream. Now it’s mainstream to be weird and quirky and people regretfully, act odd on purpose. You can always kind of tell when it is not genuine and forced. The pandemic that we are still in oddly enough, has made us all over thinkers in some way. I think it’s strange how I have regressed. Personally, having a BFA in Theatre you are taught to just do and not think. Acting after all is an action word. Now with time to ruminate in the house (2020) or out of the house nowadays, where masks are optional but strongly encouraged in busier settings; we still let our thoughts roam.

I think that with the Holidays approaching, mental health check ins are even more necessary. There are so many negative spaces online and in the real world where everyone is anti-social especially on social media. I think that with free time comes idle minds which is the devils playgrounds. I’m not saying you shouldn’t let yourself get bored it’s just that it can grow to be unhealthy. When you check in on loved ones it’s not just about texts, FaceTimes, or phone calls it’s about showing up and not taking “No” for an answer. I’ve been told I’m the “strong friend” and that isn’t necessarily a badge of honor because the standard of excellence and perseverance can be overwhelming. It’s like mastering the art of the perseverance, maybe it’s like a mask you wear to stay sane. Just got to keep pushing, keep growing, keep building. Sometimes you need a break. You have to account for rest.

As a formerly gifted child, I had burnout, real and intense burnout. It made me feel as like if I’m not constantly doing something then what is my purpose? You also feel a little delusional pushing down any pain or disappointments to avoid discomfort and be spitefully optimistic. It’s ok to sit with your feelings, you just can’t live there. These are lessons that I have to constantly learn. The prerequisites, the main courses, and the advanced ones. It’s like Rudolph on misfit island. He had to get lost to find himself and sit with his existential crisis a little longer. Sometimes sitting with the fact that “Wow, that’s a good question” is enough. Maybe the answer won’t come to you expeditiously but that is ok too. See you in the new year. Don’t be anxious. Who knows what 2023 will bring? At least we made it.