#i thought of this while flossing my teeth this morning

[stingrayextraordinaire]

Darcy: the worst she can say is no, right?

Elizabeth: you could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it

Darcy:

[honeydippedfiction]

Heyy bestie!! I've got a long one for you (sorry lol). Can I get from the established list 15, 21, 30, and 33 with Joe and Angel. Love you sweet cheeks - 🐯

Looooved writing this so much like you have no idea, need me a man like Joe is with Angel or I'm going to crash out😭

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

#15. Sighing and pouting loudly because you haven't paid them any attention. #21. Playing with your hands or jewelry while they're focused on something else, #30. Falling asleep within minutes of you playing with their hair or scratching their back. & #33. Becoming your shadow and following you around the entire day.

Joe Burrow x Angel

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The morning sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, casting a warm, dappled glow across the Burrow family’s living room. The soft hum of Zariyah's bouncer filled the space as her tiny feet kicked excitedly at the air, toes wriggling in polka-dot socks. She let out a delighted squeal, the kind only six-month-old babies could make—half-laugh, half-song.

Angel moved effortlessly around the room, folding a baby blanket with one hand and reaching for a pacifier with the other. Her locs were pulled into a loose bun, gold hoops glinting in the light as she swayed with an easy rhythm that only came with sleepless nights and practiced grace. She wore one of Joe’s oversized LSU hoodies—stolen without apology—and a pair of biker shorts that left her legs bare and toned from carrying a baby on her hip all day.

Joe Burrow, NFL quarterback, playoff warrior, and franchise golden boy, lay sprawled on the couch like a bored teenager. His arm hung dramatically over the back cushion, mouth twisted in a pout as he watched his wife with the same intensity he reserved for breaking down defensive formations.

He let out a long, theatrical sigh.

Angel didn’t even look up.

Another sigh, louder this time. She still didn’t turn around.

“Angel,” he finally said, his voice low and pitiful. “You haven’t even looked at me today.”

She chuckled quietly but kept folding Zariyah’s onesie. “Joe, it’s barely 9 a.m. I looked at you when you tried to floss your teeth and missed your mouth.”

“That doesn’t count,” he grumbled, sitting up straighter, resting his chin in his hand like a child in time-out. “You didn’t look at me with love. You looked at me like I was some man struggling with dental hygiene.”

Angel turned at that, finally giving him a full glance, one eyebrow raised with mock suspicion. “You’re not gonna start crying about it, are you?”

He didn't answer. He just gave her that boyish, lopsided grin that used to light up Baton Rouge and now haunted opposing defenses every Sunday. But here, in the quiet hum of domesticity, it was aimed only at her.

“You’re so clingy when it’s the offseason,” she muttered, shaking her head fondly.

“I miss you,” he said, standing up and stretching his arms like he hadn’t been draped over the couch for an hour. “During the season, I’m too busy to realize how much I need you. Now? It’s like withdrawal.”

He padded across the room in socks, stopping behind her to wrap his arms around her waist and press his face into the crook of her neck.

“You saw me twenty minutes ago,” she teased, leaning into him.

“Too long,” he murmured. “I get separation anxiety.”

“You’re worse than Zariyah.”

Joe chuckled softly, the sound rumbling against her back. “At least she can’t talk yet. I have to express my feelings verbally.”

She turned in his arms, eyes narrowing. “You followed me to the pantry earlier.”

“I thought you might need help grabbing the cereal.”

“To the laundry room.”

“Folding moral support.”

“To the bathroom, Joe.”

“That was an accident,” he said quickly. “Okay—a happy accident.”

She gave him a look, then stood on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “There. Better?”

Joe blinked, momentarily stunned into happiness, his lips twitching into a pleased little smile.

But then he frowned again. “Wait—that’s it?”

Angel pulled back, blinking. “I kissed you.”

“Yeah, but it was a cheek kiss,” Joe whined. “A friendship kiss. A cousin kiss.”

Angel burst out laughing. “Not a cousin kiss, Joe! Boy, if you don’t—”

“I want a real kiss,” he said, dramatically touching his chest like she’d betrayed him.

“I gave you affection and now you’re rating it?” she teased, turning toward the kitchen. “You are so spoiled.”

“I’m in love,” Joe corrected, trailing after her without hesitation. “There’s a difference.”

They moved into the kitchen, where Angel began warming Zariyah’s bottle. Joe leaned on the counter beside her with a deep, martyred sigh—his sixth of the morning.

Angel smirked but said nothing at first, pretending to focus on adjusting the formula. Meanwhile, Joe kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye, lips pushed out in an exaggerated pout. He drummed his fingers on the counter like a child waiting for his turn at the arcade.

“You’re really gonna keep pouting?” she asked, finally looking at him.

Joe didn’t even try to deny it. “I’m just a man,” he muttered, “standing in front of his wife, asking for one real kiss.”

Angel exhaled through her nose and turned fully to face him, bottle still in one hand. “You are too much.”

She stepped in closer, her free hand sliding up to the back of his neck, drawing him down slightly. Joe’s eyes lit up instantly, his breath catching like he knew what was coming.

Angel smiled—then kissed him.

Soft and slow, lingering. Her lips brushed his with a familiar rhythm, something warm and deep that wrapped around the heart before it ever touched the skin. Joe responded immediately, one arm slipping around her waist, the other resting on the edge of the counter behind her like he needed something to hold onto.

By the time she pulled away, his eyes were half-closed and a little dazed.

“Better?” she murmured.

Joe looked like he’d forgotten the day of the week. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Way better. That was like... an entire holiday.”

Angel laughed and gently tapped his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But loved,” he said smugly, following her as she turned back to finish the bottle.

“Barely,” she teased.

“Still counts.” Joe beamed like she’d just handed him a championship ring.

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

By midday, the house had settled into a rhythm of soft domestic hums—baby monitor static, the faint shuffle of slippers, and the bubbling hush of warming milk. Angel stood in the kitchen, gently bouncing Zariyah against her chest, the baby's soft curls pressed to her collarbone. Zariyah let out a content sigh, half-asleep in her mother’s arms, her chubby fist curled around a lock of Angel’s hair.

The warmth of the bottle slowly crept into the glass as it rested in a pot of hot water on the stove. Angel shifted from foot to foot in a slow, practiced rock that had become second nature, her other hand resting on Zariyah’s back, rubbing gentle circles through her lavender onesie.

Joe was planted just a few feet away, leaned against the counter like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Not because he was tired—he wasn’t—but because he had absolutely nowhere better to be. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Angel in at least ten minutes.

Every movement she made, from adjusting Zariyah’s position to tucking a stray loc behind her ear, he tracked with quiet attention. His fingers, meanwhile, had found her left hand, the one nearest him, and were toying idly with her wedding rings—sliding them up her finger, twisting them gently, then letting them fall back into place.

“You know that’s annoying, right?” Angel said casually, not even glancing his way.

Joe didn’t stop. “What is?”

“Messing with my jewelry like it’s a fidget toy.”

He finally looked up at her with the faintest smile. “I like your hands,” he said with a shrug, his voice low and calm, like he was sharing a secret. “They’re soft. And warm. And they’re yours. I get bonus points if I keep touching you.”

“Bonus points for what?” Angel asked, raising an eyebrow but fighting a smile.

“Affection. Hugs. Maybe some forehead kisses later if I’m lucky,” he replied, now stroking the inside of her wrist with his thumb.

Angel laughed quietly under her breath, shaking her head. “You really are something else.”

“Something amazing,” he corrected, grinning as he slid his fingers between hers, letting their hands rest together on the edge of the counter.

The warmth between them lingered as Zariyah finally finished her bottle and dozed off in Angel’s arms. After settling the baby into her crib upstairs, Angel returned to the living room to find Joe already back on the couch, stretched out and waiting like a man who had ordered comfort and knew it was en route.

This time, he didn’t sigh or pout. He just looked at her with patient hope, tapping his lap twice like a drumbeat.

Angel gave him a look, one hand on her hip. “You need me to carry you to bed too?”

“No,” he said, tilting his head and cracking a small smile. “Just need you to do the thing.”

“What thing?”

Joe widened his eyes like a puppy caught in the rain. “You know the thing.”

Angel huffed out a soft laugh and made her way over to him. She sat down, legs tucked underneath her, and guided his head into her lap with practiced ease. As soon as his head hit her thighs, Joe exhaled like he’d been holding his breath all day.

Angel began threading her fingers gently through his short curls. Her nails skimmed his scalp, slow and deliberate, with the kind of care only a woman in love could offer. Joe melted. His muscles unwound in waves, his breath slowing with each pass of her hand.

She shifted slightly to make room, and her other hand found his back. Fingertips traced lazy patterns beneath his T-shirt—light scratches that sent little shivers down his spine. Joe let out a soft sigh, the kind that barely made it out of his mouth before it disappeared into sleep.

Angel glanced down at him—this 6’4”, broad-shouldered man who’d gone toe-to-toe with some of the NFL’s best and looked like he wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped in his wife’s touch forever. There was a softness to his face when he was like this, eyelids fluttering, lips parted just enough to show the vulnerability underneath the calm, confident quarterback the world knew.

She leaned back into the couch cushions, her hand still gently raking through his hair, and let herself fully exhale for the first time that day.

Upstairs, the baby monitor crackled softly, then quieted. A moment later, Zariyah let out a sleepy, squeaky sigh from her crib—one of those tiny baby sounds that always made Angel smile.

“I swear, Zariyah,” Angel murmured, brushing her thumb across Joe’s temple, “you and your daddy are in a competition to see who can be more clingy.”

Joe shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent in his sleep. Then, as if pulled from a dream he refused to let go of, he mumbled again—soft and sure:

“Me… Always me.”

Angel blinked, startled by the timing. She stared down at him, lips twitching with disbelief before laughter quietly escaped her.

“Well,” she whispered, still smiling, “at least you’re self-aware.”

As if responding to her voice, Joe let out a deep sigh in his sleep. His arm slid across her lap and curled around her waist on instinct, fingers gently gripping the hem of her hoodie like a child clutching their favorite blanket. His body relaxed even further, molding into her like he was subconsciously afraid she might get up and slip away.

Angel’s smile deepened, her heart pulling tight in her chest.

“Lord,” she whispered, shaking her head gently, “you’re hopeless.”

She leaned down slowly and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, lips lingering there a moment longer than necessary.

“Yeah, baby,” she whispered. “I know.”

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ ｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

Extra - Angel's Turn

The morning light spilled softly across the hardwood floors, stretching its golden fingers through gauzy curtains and warming the quiet Cincinnati home that had grown used to baby coos, sleepy sighs, and the gentle cadence of an NFL offseason. The house, at least for now, was still—peaceful in the way only a house with a six-month-old rarely was.

Zariyah sat nestled in her bouncer in the living room, humming her own tune between a pacifier and the swirl of colors on the screen in front of her. The television murmured with the low energy of toddler cartoons, their cheerful voices bouncing off the walls like soft echoes.

In the kitchen, the coffee pot gurgled and hissed as it finished brewing, the rich scent of dark roast wafting through the air like a morning hug. Joe stood at the counter, freshly showered, clad in grey joggers that sat low on his hips and a fitted black T-shirt that clung to his shoulders. His damp hair curled gently, still tousled from the towel he’d raked through it minutes earlier.

With one hand wrapped around his mug, the other lazily scrolling through his phone, Joe looked every bit the picture of offseason ease—relaxed, grounded, and completely unaware of the quiet storm approaching him from behind.

Angel padded into the kitchen on bare feet, moving slower than usual, wearing one of Joe’s flannel shirts over her tank top and a pair of soft cotton shorts. Her locs were still slightly frizzy from sleep, half-pinned, half-wild, and her face was bare, beautiful in that effortless way Joe always noticed most when she wasn’t trying.

She didn’t say a word.

She simply walked up behind him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades with a long, dramatic sigh that practically melted into him.

Joe paused mid-scroll and looked down at the mug in his hand, then at her arms curled around him.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he said, setting his phone down.

“Mmm,” Angel hummed, her eyes closed, her body fully pressed into his back. “You smell good. Like soap… and unearned confidence.”

Joe blinked, caught off guard. “Unearned?”

She sleepily smirked without lifting her head. “You walk around like you’re the main character in a sports movie. Meanwhile, I’m the one raising your daughter and keeping you moisturized.”

Joe let out a low laugh, turning slightly in her arms. “I’ll have you know, this confidence is very earned. I’ve survived SEC defenses, Super Bowl pressure, and you in a mood.”

“Mmm,” she drawled, kissing the middle of his back. “Barely.”

He chuckled, taking her hands in his and spinning her gently around until she was facing him. “What’s your problem? You think I don’t deserve a little swagger?”

“Oh, I’m not saying you don’t deserve swagger,” she teased, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “You definitely earned it... but how you wear it is what cracks me up. It’s the subtle flex every time you walk by a mirror.”

Joe raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And what’s so funny about that?”

Angel gave him a pointed look. “It's the ‘I’m so humble, but look at me’ vibe you give off. You don’t even realize it.”

Joe’s lips twitched, but before he could defend himself, Angel was already wrapping her arms back around him, her face settling back against his back like she hadn’t just launched a full-on roast.

“You can’t even deny it,” she said with a soft chuckle. “It’s endearing, though. In a way only you can manage.”

“Endearing?” Joe echoed, a hint of playfulness creeping into his tone. “I’ll have you know, I’ve got more swag than you’re giving me credit for.”

“Mmm,” Angel hummed, her arms still tight around him. “I’ll believe it when you manage to make the bed without me reminding you first.”

Joe turned his head slightly, looking at her with mock exasperation. “Not this again. I’m a grown man, Angel.”

“I know,” she grinned. “Which is why it’s so impressive that a grown man can’t remember the bed’s got sheets.”

He rolled his eyes but laughed. “Alright, alright. I see how it is. You’re just here to tear me down, huh?”

“You’re so easy to tease,” she said sweetly, standing on her toes to press a kiss to the side of his neck. “I love it.”

Joe gave her a sidelong glance, his voice lowering. “You’re lucky I’m so in love with you, or I’d start fighting back.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed, taking a few steps back with a sly grin. “I’d love to see you try.”

He chuckled softly and relaxed into her embrace, one of his hands covering hers where they rested at his stomach. “You okay?”

“Nope,” she murmured without lifting her head. “I’m in a mood.”

Joe shifted, concerned but not alarmed. “What kind of mood?”

Angel pressed a lingering kiss between his shoulder blades, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “A Joe mood.”

He smiled then—one of those slow, lopsided grins she always caught glimpses of on game days and quiet mornings like this one. “A Joe mood, huh?”

She gave a tiny, sleepy nod and began to sway from side to side, still holding onto him like a weighted blanket. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just wanna be close to you. I feel... clingy.”

“You’re allowed to be clingy,” he said, twisting in her arms until he faced her fully. “You’re always holding me together. You think I don’t have days where I just wanna be wrapped up in you like this?”

“Well, now it’s your turn to deal with me like that,” she said, her voice teasing but her eyes soft and honest. “I need cuddles. Touch. Booty rubs. Head kisses. Blanket nests.”

Joe blinked. “Booty rubs?”

She smirked. “Don’t act brand new.”

He raised both brows but leaned down to kiss her forehead anyway. “Alright. I got you, baby. Come here.”

He reached down, lacing his fingers through hers, and led her to the couch like they were dancing slow steps to an invisible song. Zariyah, still entranced by the flashing screen and singing animals, offered them a gurgling coo as they passed by her to the couch.

Angel didn’t hesitate. As soon as Joe sat down, she curled into his lap like it was her rightful place, legs tucked beside him, her head immediately finding his chest. Joe pulled the throw blanket over them both, wrapping his arms around her as she melted against him with a contented sigh.

His hands were warm as they slid under her shirt, his fingers tracing circles on her bare skin, moving slowly to the small of her back. He gently kneaded her lower back with one hand, his other arm wrapped around her waist.

“Better?” he murmured.

Angel closed her eyes, nodding against his chest. “Mmm.”

“This,” she mumbled, cheek resting just above his heart, “is exactly what I needed.”

Joe kissed the crown of her head, rubbing slow circles into her lower back, his hand drifting comfortably and deliberately south, kneading her hip and gently cupping her as she relaxed deeper into him. “You okay for real?” he asked, voice low.

“I think I’m just tired,” she admitted. “Like emotionally tired. A little anxious for no reason. I just needed to recharge.”

Joe didn’t answer with words. He just held her tighter, hand still moving in a rhythm that made her hum with satisfaction.

“With physical affection?” he asked after a moment.

“With you,” she whispered. “I don’t even care if we talk. Just being next to you helps.”

The room settled around them. The only sounds were the low hum of the TV and the occasional rustle of the blanket as Angel shifted, burrowing even deeper into Joe’s warmth like she couldn’t get close enough. He rubbed her gently, deliberately—because he knew exactly what comfort felt like to her.

Which is why he gave her the much needed and begged for booty rubs.

“Mmmm, Joe,” she hummed, pressing a kiss to his chest and nuzzling deeper into him. “You can’t be out here flexing your fine self while I’m over here like a loose chihuahua.”

He chuckled. “So you wanna keep me all to yourself today?”

“I can’t help it,” she mumbled. “I’m just emotional as hell today and I need my husband to be my personal space heater.”

“Emotional?” He smoothed his hand over her hair, voice softening. “What are you emotional about?”

She sighed. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know. I’m just feeling…”

“… in my feelings,” he finished, smiling.

“Yeah, exactly. And you’re gonna have to put up with me being all up under you because I just need…” She paused, searching for the right word. “I just need you, I guess.”

“Well, you can have me,” Joe said, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Just don’t try to keep me here when I’ve got a Zoom meeting in an hour. I know you like to get clingy when I gotta work, too.”

“Shut up,” she laughed, pinching his side. “Don’t make me bite you.”

Joe only grinned and pulled her closer, his large hands gently kneading her ass through the fabric of her shorts, his chest rumbling under her ear when he chuckled.

“See, this right here?” Angel murmured, her words half-slurred with sleep. “This is the shit they don’t put on ESPN. They don’t tell you about the booty rubs, do they? Or the way you hold me just because?”

“Nah, they don’t,” he said, smiling as he trailed his lips across her forehead. “They don’t know shit about how I love you.”

“Mm… I know how you love me,” she hummed. “And I love how you love me.”

“Do you, though?” He grinned, squeezing her ass just enough to make her squeal. “Or are you just a sucker for the booty rubs?”

“Oh, I’ll suck something—” Angel started, but suddenly stopped short, feeling a pinch to her backside. “Joe!”

“Don’t say that shit in front of my daughter,” he scolded, pinching her again.

She rolled her eyes, smacking his hand away. “She’s six months old, Joe. She don’t know what I’m saying and how do you think she got here in the first place with your freaky ass.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “I’m not risking it.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes again. “Fine. Spoilsport.”

He only grinned, his lips grazing her forehead.

It was peaceful there, wrapped in the quiet of their morning. The house felt like a sanctuary, a place where the rest of the world could stay outside for a while. Zariyah babbled occasionally, her laughter punctuating the soft cartoon voices still floating from the TV screen.

Angel closed her eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of her husband’s heart.

Minutes passed.

Maybe an hour.

Zariyah eventually drifted off in her bouncer, her pacifier lolling sideways, a soft snore escaping her tiny chest.

When Joe tried to gently move Angel aside to grab his phone off the coffee table, she instantly tightened her grip around his waist.

“Nope,” she said into his chest. “Trapped.”

“I just need to—”

“Nope. I told you, you’re on emotional support husband duty.”

Joe smiled down at her, amused and fully surrendered. “Alright. You win.”

She let out a small, smug hum and began idly playing with the hem of his shirt, then tracing soft patterns across the toned skin of his stomach beneath it. Her fingers wandered higher, skimming the curve of his ribs and the dip between each breath he took.

“Now who’s the clingy one?” Joe asked, cocking his head.

Angel tilted her face up to meet his gaze, eyes half-lidded and playful. “I never said I wasn’t capable. I just like to pretend I’m the emotionally stable one.”

Joe laughed. “I like this side of you.”

“What side?”

“The melted marshmallow version. It’s soft. I kind of love it.”

Angel grinned and let her eyes fall closed again. “Good. ‘Cause you’re stuck with it all day.”

“I can live with that.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple, holding her close as the sun shifted in the sky and the house fell into a quiet, golden kind of peace—the kind made not by silence, but by being completely seen and utterly safe in someone else's arms.

“Do I get a scorecard for my cuddle performance?” Joe murmured.

“You’re doing great so far,” she whispered sleepily. “But I’ll need more data to confirm.”

“Got all day,” he said softly.

And he did.

[ginnysgraffiti]

could i ask for some hcs about asking Patrick to sit down with you to tweak your morning and nighttime routines, so you A) don't interrupt (because he probably HATES it when he's interrupted from his skincare or whatever) B) do it with him, because it feels like bonding. thank youuu xx

here we areeee!

PATRICK BATEMAN x yn.

skincare head-canons (i actually put so much thought into this one):

first, the logistics.

- you bring it up one night while he’s applying his tenth layer of post-shower serums, shirtless and glowing like a demon in a YSL Homme ad.

- at first, he blinks. “what do you mean—tweak?”

(as if there’s a flaw in the concept of routine at all. as if he didn’t plan his week two months ago.)

- but when you explain that you want to:

A) avoid interrupting him,

B) do it together,

he pauses. thinks. and then—“show me your current schedule. i’ll revise it.”

he literally opens his planner. and creates a shared one for you. with colored time blocks. for “joint skincare.” you feel like you just got engaged.

the morning routine — updated.

- you now wake up 12 minutes earlier than before.

you brush teeth together. not in the couples-y way — more like synchronized swimming with matching toothbrushes.

- he watches your technique. critiques it. corrects it.

“you’re using far too much pressure. you’re going to cause gum recession.”

- he replaces your cleanser with one of his. without asking. “this one’s better. i checked the ingredients.”

- you apply eye cream. he taps the corner of your eye, gently, and says “wrong finger. use your middle finger. it’s the right one if you want to apply the perfect pressure.”

(you swear he shivered saying it. man is vibrating on a skincare frequency only he understands.)

- you sit on the bed with a coffee, and he comes over to hand you your supplements — already counted. placed in a tiny crystal dish.

“vitamin d. magnesium. you forgot yesterday.”

and then kisses your shoulder like it’s a holy ritual.

the nighttime routine.

- everything is candle-lit. the apartment smells like bergamot and focus.

- you’re allowed to talk before cleansing. not during. not after. “this is the quiet part.”

(you whisper now. it’s like church.)

- he insists on doing your serum for you sometimes. his hands are steady, exacting — but soft, reverent in a way he’d never admit.

- if you skip a step?

“absolutely not.”

he physically steers you back to the mirror.

“you will not waste the niacinamide barrier i just helped restore.”

- you share a silk robe now. one robe. it rotates between you. you did not agree to this. you’re not sure he noticed. but it smells like him and he likes when you wear it.

(he stares. subtly. and then not-so-subtly.)

he keeps a literal checklist.

- in his planner:

“7:05 p.m. — retinol application (together)”

“9:00 p.m. — teeth / floss / affirmations”

(he insists you say something productive out loud every night — even if it’s “my skin barrier is intact.”)

- if you forget something, he gently places the missing product on your pillow.

like a warning.

like a love letter.

and he loves that you wanted this.

- it makes him feel trusted. important. chosen.

patrick bateman, who never thought someone would ask to share his most obsessive ritual, now builds space in it for you.

- he doesn’t say “i love you.” but he does say:

“don’t forget SPF tomorrow. you’re mine. i won’t have you damaged.” and you get it.

in his language, that is love.

[kookygranger]

Spirit in the Sky

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, fem!reader, no upside down/no hawkins au

Word count: 900

Author's note: I don't know what this is or what it will be, but it's inspired by @bettyfrommars' biker!Steve, a lot of The Bikeriders + The Place Beyond the Pines in this first chapter, a little ghostrider!Steve to come, a little of me trying my best to dissociate with the realities of life

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter One

The smell of burnt sugar from the candy floss carts is overpowered by the petrol stinging your nose when you enter the tent. The chatter of the crowd mostly drowned out by the buzz of the motorbikes as they zip around, flicking up dirt. There’s a warm breeze that tickles the hem of your dress, sweat clinging to the back of your thighs.

You’re momentarily stuck in a trance watching them go back and forth when you feel a pinch on your arm. Your friend nudging you and speaking in your ear to draw your attention.

That’s him.

He looks much the same as the others in his white jumpsuit, but you can’t deny there’s a different aura that follows him.

One that’s been picked up by most the girls in town in the short time the carnival tent has been pitched.

And now you can’t seem to draw your attention elsewhere as he parades on one wheel to the cheers of the crowd. Making your breath catch in your chest every time he was in the air, falling back down to the ground. At every moment left up to fate and physics as he swoops in behind his fellow stunt riders in the gaudily named globe of death. And again, when the helmet finally came off, his brunette locks set free and only slightly dampened with sweat – a coy smile and wave to the crowd.

You’d fallen in love with strangers before of course. Passionate fantasies that lasted just as long as their presence in town. Settling with the dust left in their wake, another moment of escapism to keep you going. But unlike the others, he lingered.

Steve ‘hot spur’ Harrington

And when he started coming into the diner every morning for a cup of black coffee and some bacon with a side of toast you didn’t think much of it. Even less so when you noticed that he’d hardly say a word to you but was all smiles and charming lines to the other waitresses. Even if you’d get a tightness in your chest every time you’d hear the engine of his bike as he pulled up – it didn’t matter.

He was just another fantasy soon to be gone.

That was until he sat up, catching your attention as he uncrossed his legs when you’d left the diner one night, realising he must’ve been leaning on his bike for a while. Your eyes following the cigarette he drops next to the two that already lay discarded by his worn boots, before they travel back up to find his already watching you.

“I was uh,” he cleared his throat of the rasp left by smoke, “I was wonderin’ if you wanted to go for a ride?”

“Excuse me?” Of course you thought you hadn’t heard him right. That he’d mistaken you for someone else. The light in the car park barely cast on orange glow on the both of you. But then, again.

“You wanna go for a ride?”

“You don’t know me.” Your eyebrows pinch, head moving in disbelief.

“Sure I do.” Then he flashes you a smile, shyer than the one he’d been giving the prettier waitresses. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“I-I don’t-“

“The one that I’ve been trying all week to pluck up the courage to ask. So?” His leg starts to bounce, his torso leaning forward while he still remains perched on the side of his bike.

You shrug, still not sure where this conversation was coming from. “So?”

“You wanna go for a ride?”

You shake your head, “No.”

“Oh.” Steve finally breaks eye contact, looking down as he kicks at the gravel. “Right, yeah.” His hand runs through his hair.

“I’ve never been on one.”

His head snaps back up.

You gesture to where he’s seated. “First time with a stranger seems like a terrible decision.”

He smiles again, more assured, teeth on display. “You seen me ride?”

You nod.

“Then you know you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.”

“It’s reckless.”

He laughs, eyes darting as he notices your body move slightly closer. “It’s practice. And it’s confidence. Two things you need to be good. ‘M not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Why me?”

Steve stands up, bridging the gap between you in a couple of steps. “Already told you.” Your head moves back to accommodate his closeness.

“You think I’m beautiful, right. How many girls you said that to since you got here?”

“You seen me with another girl?”

“No.”

“Then I think you just answered your own question.”

You end up in a slight stare off. The smile on his face might’ve pissed you off if it wasn’t so damn charming.

And when you feel his hand pull your arm tighter across his torso, the cotton of his white T-shirt against your skin grounding you as your heart beats rapidly between you, the wind roaring in your ears, you can’t help the smile that finally creeps up on you. Steve squeezes your arm again when he feels it pressed up against his back.

And that’s how one of your fantasies turned real; how you met the love that would burn you to the ground.

[flawless-peach]

That Girl Guide

this is in no way me trying to tell you how to live your life. I just thought this would be a fun way to help people explore different ideas and maybe give some inspiration if someone is feeling overwhelmed by the aesthetic. I great way to romanticize your life is to get inspired by a preferred aesthetic.

01. Hygeine

with hygeine it is important to remember just because society says something is necessary doesn't mean it is. This can be things like shaving and teeth whitening.

wash your face at least every night. this is not necessarily referring to a double cleanse with moisturizer, because those can take time to find one's that work and adding in several products at once makes it hard to identify what works and what doesn't. In this case I just mean go in with a gentle soap and wash off any grease and dirt off.

Floss your teeth. This is something that is incredibly important for the long-term health of your teeth. I personally find that I have to use plastic flossers because otherwise I won't floss. Do the best you can where you can.

Brush your teeth. This on is quite obvious, but one thing that is incredibly helpful when you're going through a depressive episode or something is to keep a toothbrush by your bed. In college, when I barely even went to classes, I kept an old plastic water bottle and a toothbrush by my bed, so I would at least brush my teeth 2 a day since I wasn't leaving my bed

Perfume and deodorant regular application of these really elevates your appearance. I personally love syncing these scents. My boyfriend recently bought a nice cologne that goes perfectly with his deodorant, so in the morning the scents aren't trying to compete as much.

02. Hair

this is hard to provide tips on because different hair types need different things so in this case i will just provide some styling tips

Know your hair type. For people who have straight hair, having to find your hair type never occurred to you, at least it didn't for me until I had to help someone learn to take care of their curly hair. But know your porosity and things makes taking care of your hair much much easier.

Split ends only lead to more damage it's better to go ahead and get it trimmed. I am sorry to say this, but cutting your hair at home really is not the move, it is better to just go into your local Great Cuts, or whatever, and just get the $10.00/$15.00 trim. If you absolutely can not get that cut your hair with sharp scissors, best if they are for cutting hair and having someone help you make it even.

A trade mark look of That Girl / Clean girl aesthetics is simple is more so hair styles that have minimal accessories is popular along with slick back looks as they make the hair look well maintained.

Slick back styles are great, especially in a busy week where you haven't had a chance to wash your hair yet. This is very versatile you could pull your hair back into a bun or put it in a ponytail, etc. if you have shorter hair you can slick your part and pull it in to pig tails or leave it pinned behind your ears.

if you have shorter hair styles like the 90s curtain bangs (leaning into the Old Money looks), pairs great with the elegant simple style associated with this aesthetic.

If you want to dress it down and look more casual claw clips and things like that is a great way to keep your hair out of the way while still looking like you put effort into hair even if it was minimal

This is just a side note, mostly for Americans who maybe feel really disconnected from their culture/ancestors look into the way they would style their hair. Theirs will be the most like yours, so they know things you may not, trust your ancestors ^^

03. Makeup

Makeup is in no way a necessity for the It Girl look, but some people like to wear it so I wanted to include it for those people

Look at yourself objectively, see what features you want to HIGHLIGHT, by highlighting your features, it will naturally minimize the ones you want to hide. By doing this, I was able to accept those features a lot more than when I was trying to hide them. I even learned to embrace them and even start catering to those features.

I highly suggest looking at Dear Peachie on Youtube for learning the basics. I found them to be incredibly helpful. They include other things besides makeup but I have only watched their makeup videos so far. It's a great place for beginning to understand the makeup styles that look best on you

In this aesthetic minimal makeup, or "No makeup," makeup is incredibly popular. I don't use foundation most days and instead rely on my blush, eyeliner, and my concealer on the days I wear makeup.

04. Skincare / Bodycare

I've decided to combine these even though a lot won't overlap, but some will.

Exfoliating is great for your skin it unclog pores and helps your largest organ keep you healthy, however exfoliating can also be really harsh I suggestion doing this only once a weak with a natural exfoliation if you have sensitive skin ,i have found that works best for me and my mom, however everyone skin is different so you will need to play around with that. Your face skin is more sensitive, but your body also deserves to be taken care of. Just because it can tolerate it doesn't mean it needs to.

Shaving is entirely optional and not something anyone is required to do. But if that is something you like, always prep your skin, especially though things like exfoliating gloves or something like that to help get ride of the dead skin to get a clean shave to miminimize the chance of ingrown hair and "strawberry legs"

05. Clothes

this is mostly just a list of staples that can be useful for most aesthetics but are incredibly useful for That Girl aesthetics.

plain tees, i suggest at least a black and white. some people may benefit from other colors like brown or beige, but it depends on your lifestyle and preference ^^

plain black slacks. I like mine to be on the softer side but I like the thick pressed ones for more professional interviews and things.

jackets are incredibly useful when dressing up and dressing down depending on the material and style of the jackets. I have an old jacket from my great-grandfather that is worn briwn leather that works well for dressing down business casual to more casual attire. But adding a blazer over a more casual outfit can dress it up.

Jeans are complicated because i am from the south in a very blue collar family, so I think everything goes with jeans. For jeans that fit the That Girl aesthetic, I would suggest looking at jeans with as close to no holes as comfortable. Dear Peachie also has a video over identifying your body type.

[thejournallo]

Life Hack: Oil pulling

This is a life hack to take more proper care of our oral hygiene and is something that I am actually testing out, and I can actually see incredible results in only one week. 

What is oil pulling?

Oil pulling is an ancient Ayurvedic practice that involves swishing oil around in your mouth for several minutes to promote oral health. The process is believed to draw out toxins from the body and improve dental hygiene. The scientific community has mixed opinions on oil pulling. Some small studies have shown reductions in oral bacteria, plaque, and gingivitis, comparable to mouthwash. However, more extensive and rigorous studies are needed to confirm these benefits conclusively.

What are the benefits that oil pulling can have on you?

Improved Oral Hygiene: It is said to reduce plaque, gingivitis, and bad breath.

Whitening of Teeth: Regular practice is believed to help whiten teeth.

Detoxification: Proponents claim it helps detoxify the body, although scientific evidence supporting this is limited only to the part of the mouth.

Relief from Jaw Pain: Some report reduced jaw pain and improved jaw strength.

How do i do oil pulling?

Choose your oil: Coconut oil is a popular choice due to its antimicrobial properties. even though every vegetable oil can be good for this practice.

Measure a tablespoon: Use about a tablespoon or two of oil.

Swish the oil: Swish it around your mouth for 15-20 minutes. Make sure not to swallow it. and it is suggested to do this first thing in the morning to get rid of all the bacteria that accumulates throughout the night. (This is the part that makes your jaw pain go away because you actually exercise your mouth muscles while you do that.)

Spit it out: Spit the oil into a trash can (not the sink, as it can clog pipes).

Rinse and brush: Rinse your mouth with water and then brush your teeth as usual.

Oil pulling is generally considered safe, but it should not replace traditional oral care practices like brushing and flossing.

My thoughts and experiences:

I always had problems keeping my oral igine costant because of my adhd. Since I started oil pulling, not only did I see an improvement in my teeth, as they are more white, but I also saw an improvement in my routine because, in general, I see it as an easy way to clean my teeth, which includes actually brushing my teeth. i also have notice improvements with my jawline but that could be the gua sha too.

[baldurs-gape]

Just Another Day

Holding the camp at arm's length was just an Astarion thing. While he was better at letting the others closer, had helped them understand his quirks, it was still painful when he receded back into the shadows of harsh quips and well aimed barbs. When he got like that the rest of the camp quickly learned to leave him alone. Whatever it was that got him in a spiral usually cleared up after a day or two. The only one who didn't pay much heed to Astarion's moods was Gale. Whether it was metaphorical rain or shine in that tent, he strode in there with utmost confidence. Usually, his presence seemed to work wonders on Astarion's moods so nobody discouraged him from continuing.

Another such mood swing was coming. The sneering got worse, Astarion scoffed at the smallest of things and advocated for more murder than usual.

"All I'm say is, we leave the wretches to their own fate. After all, if we die helping them, who is going to destroy Baldur's Gate's ruling class? We need to save ourselves for that."

As usual, he went ignored. But that didn't stop the near enough litany of complaints.

"Couldn't you have moved a bit faster? I thought githyanki were meant to be warriors. I shouldn't have to clean up the mess you make."

"No, I was absolutely aware of the adept casting the spell from behind me. You singed my favourite clothes and my hair! Do you know how inconvenient that is?"

"Your brain matter was probably the material converted to give you horns. I don't see how else you could have been so stupid."

It got worse and worse. Everyone got a tongue lashing, even if it was for something trivial like washing at an inconvenient time. They let Astarion just get on with things, avoided him and his ire. Things only came to a head when, after Astarion refused to leave his tent, Gale wandered in. Though tents weren't the most private of places, usually conversations within were respectfully ignored. But the whole camp heard Astarion's outburst.

"If you're so damn hungry, just go and eat Wyll's shoes! And maybe floss with the laces because you have bullshit getting stuck between your teeth!"

Storming out of the tent, Gale had half a mind to throw a boot back at Astarion. However, he was better than that. He had more control.

"Oh blow me," he growled under his breath.

"Blow your orb yourself, you coward!" Astarion's words rang sharp and clear through the camp and everyone froze. The only sound was the rustle of fabric as he tied the flaps of his tent shut.

At least he was quiet after that. Mumbles of "murder is wrong, staking your boyfriend is rude" from Gale were met with huffs of laughter. They all knew Astarion could be a little too dramatic at times, this was just a bit more excessive than usual.

In the morning the tent flap stayed shut. It was a small bit of relief even if the odd guilty glance was shot in its direction. Something was amiss but getting through to Astarion was nigh on impossible. The following day a small party was heading out and Astarion's help would have been much appreciated.

"Not today," his voice replied through the still shut tent. "I don't wish to become another 'accidental' death. Your hand might slip or you might just not be fast enough. What a tragedy, only the good die young, he'll be sorely missed. Then I'll be nothing but a distant memory that's best left forgotten. So no, thank you, I think I'll pass."

Adventuring without him went absolutely fine, not a single fight was had. Returning to camp, the group had a merry time. It was only next morning that Karlach cast Astarion's tent a sad glance.

"He hasn't been out since your argmuent. Not even to bask in the rising sun's glow."

Gale sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why he had to go falling in love with someone as impossible as Astarion was beyond him. But there he was. He eyed Karlach who offered a smile and half a shrug.

"Maybe he's just hangry. I know I would be, if I went so long without eating."

"I'll take him something."

Despite Gale's best intentions, Wyll had beaten him to it. He dragged the deer back to camp before hanging it up with Halsin's help to drain the blood into a bucket. Scooping some into a goblet, he approached the tent.

"We thought you might like something to drink," he said. There was no reply. "Seriously, Astarion, whatever it is that's got you like this, we can help. But you have to let us."

"Maybe the goblet is laced with garlic? Or dead man's blood? That's the only kind of help you seem capable of."

"Say what you like, but at least we're trying. Which is more than can be said about you," Wyll grumbled. He set the blood down in front of the tent flap and walked away.

It was still there the next morning, cold, congealed and drying. Gale frowned as he moved it out of his way. This whole thing was just getting ridiculous. Close to a week, Astarion had been in a funk. Leaving him alone hadn't seemed to solve the matter so it was time to get some answers.

"May I come in?"

Bitter resignation laced Astarion's voice. "Does my reply have any influence on your actions?" Before Gale could reply, Astarion let out a sad laugh. "You might as well come on in, I'll play along with your charade."

An invitation was an invitation and Gale decided to accept it. He undid the ties of the tent and stepped into the darkness. Eyes taking a moment to adjust, Gale peered around. The whole tent was a mess. Or, rather, at first glance it was a mess. But as he looked, a pattern of sorts began to emerge. The piles weren't random, clothes weren't strewn around. If Gale wasn't careful, he would trip over something. Either end of the tent held a bundle and he had no idea which one was Astarion. Squinting between the two, Gale opted not to move in case he started in the wrong direction and had to backtrack over the obstacle course.

"Astarion?" Nothing. Neither pile moved. Gale bit his tongue to hold back his frustration. "What's going on?" Still nothing. If Gale hadn't know Astarion was in there, he would have assumed the tent was empty. Patience wearing thin, he tried again. "Is this some stupid game you're playing? Because I'm not going to go along with that. So either behave like the adult you are, or I am leaving."

Finally one of the piles moved and Astarion's head popped up. Even in the half-light his eyes looked large, face drawn and exhausted as though he'd been on high alert for days on end without reprieve.

"Are you here to hurt me?"

"What kind of asinine-?! No! Absolutely not!" Aghast, Gale wasn't certain whether he wanted to get closer to Astarion or further away. "Light of my night, why would you ask that?"

No answer was forthcoming. No quip, no denial, no clarification. Instead, Astarion stared at him with about as much trust as a deer that had caught the scent of a predator.

"I just want you to drink."

"But you know your blood hurts."

"I never said to drink from me! You impossible man. I'm coming over and feel free to laugh when I topple over one of your traps." Because that's what they were. Traps and distractions. Picking his way over there, Gale plopped down and opened up his arms in invitation. The hesitation Astarion showed was hurtful, that was no lie. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to understand."

Under the bulk of clothes, armour and throws, it was almost like Astarion deflated. But he still didn't seek comfort in Gale's arms. They sat, in silence for a while.

"Today's my turning day," Astarion finally bit out.

"Shit. Is that like a birthday? I didn't think you'd celebrate such a day. But if I'd known, we'd have thrown you a party like we did for Wyll's birthday."

"I don't know when my birthday is." The words were quiet, hesitant. Almost like Astarion was talking about some forbidden topic that he was terrified of being overheard. "But Cazador wouldn't let me forget the day he claimed me."

Wouldn't let him forget...what Gale knew of Cazador, it was highly unlikely that he threw a party. Slowly the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to slot together but the picture wasn't quite clear just yet.

"Would you have rather it was forgotten?"

A soft 'mhm' was the only reply. Silence stretched between them and Gale itched to know more. Thankfully, he was a stubborn bastard and for once he held out longer than Astarion.

"I'd get sent out with specific instructions on what he wanted me to bring home. I always failed, got punished." As he spoke, Astarion's eyes stared off into the distance, mentally miles away. "Then came the poisoned rats. The chalices of burning blood. Said it was all to soften me up for the day he most regretted in his life. Turning me."

Unable to help himself, Gale reached out, desperate to touch and reassure. A dam was broken and Astarion crumpled into the hand, near enough falling against Gale's chest as he sought comfort and reassurance that he'd denied himself for so long.

"On the day, he'd- he'd-" the words weren't coming and Gale gently shushed him.

"It's okay. He isn't here. He can't hurt you. Nobody's going to hurt you. Not today, not any day."

"Said it was my fault." Astarion didn't have tears to shed anymore, those had dried up a century ago. Crying wasn't a luxury he could afford himself but his breath still hitched on a sob. "I brought it on myself."

Ever so gently, Gale began running a hand through Astarion's hair. It was flat, dusty and greasy. He didn't care though. Everything was making sense at last. Refusals to join, to drink, to even leave his tent, Gale didn't have to be the genius he was to figure it all out. Leaning down, he buried his nose in Astarion's hair and breathed deeply.

"You didn't deserve it. Any of it." Mind made up, he pressed a kiss to Astarion's head. "You've must be exhausted after all this worry. Trust me to keep you safe?"

"But I told you to blow yourself sky high."

"You're not the first, nor will you be the last. Let me love you and protect you. Rest. Tomorrow we can think about getting you a drink that you're comfortable with. Okay?"

There was a little too much obedient pacifying in Astarion's placid "okay" but Gale couldn't do much about it. Maybe Karlach was right, after a fuller stomach the world might not look so ready to end for Astarion. But until then, Gale would sit with him, cast a ward of protection and stay awake for the whole night if it meant Astarion could have a bit of rest. Waving a hand and murmuring the spell, Gale let a soft shimmering blue of protection settle around the tent. He'd keep it there though until Astarion was ready to face the world again.

And maybe, while he waited, Gale was plotting to find a day for Astarion's birthday. They would make new memories and celebrate his existence. It wouldn't overwrite the memories of suffering, but Gale hoped it would give him new ones to remember and enjoy.

[kidcanines]

and when that fog horn blows…i will be coming home..

x - x - x

x - x - x

x - x - x

—DNI NSFW—

⋆ watching cartoons near the tv, stuffie in hand n my paci n my mouth completely infatuated with the show i’m watching. warm blanket snuggled against me to shield from the early morning cold

⋆ me n papa laying in bed. he’s readin a book or watching tv n im playing on my switch n something cool happens so I crawl over to him and point at what I want him to look at. he diverts his attention to look at me n nods and asks me questions about it

⋆ snuggles up to me close in bed and puts the blankets up to my shoulders so we’re all warm and cozy. protected from the cold of the window cause what’s the point of cuddling up to each other if it’s not cold at night? (we close it in the morning because being cold when you first wake up is a miserable affair)

⋆ when it gets harder to speak and i stutter a lot he gets down on my level and ruffles my hair and tells me it’s okay. that i don’t have to force it if the words aren’t coming quite right now. n when i don’t wanna give eye contact he’ll look away too so i don’t feel pressured or loose my train of thought or start stuttering again.

⋆ always pulls me into him. whether it be tucking me into his side and kissing my forehead while we’re watching a movie or holding my hand all the time.

⋆ very gentle with academics… “c’mon bubby, let’s read this book right here…” he says, sitting at my tiny table and waving a picture book in his hands. sometimes he’ll leave me temporarily to start on lunch and have me read it out loud- “are you stuck? remember to sound it out okay?” and when i can’t get the word he comes over and puts on his glasses to helps me.

⋆ stands outside of the bathroom door during our night routine. he’ll lean against the door with his arms folded or a fidget in hand while watching me brush my teeth or wash my face. “do you need help flossing?” n he’ll always urge me to ask for help… “ask for help, okay? i’ve got you..” n when we’re all done he picks me up off my stepping stool and brings me to bed.

⋆ i’m always very attentive to the texture and smell of things…especially blankets. when we’re out washing i’m always staring worriedly at the blanket washer and biting my lips. he gently places his hand on my shoulder. “they won’t be burned bubby, i promise okay? i’m on the look out remember?” n i just nod into his side, grabbing his fingers.

⋆ therefore most if not all of our bed is just throw blankets. papa uses the actual comforter and sometimes i do too but most of the time it’s just me n my blanket nest snuggled up to papa

⋆ picks out my clothes for me…but likes to get input on what i like. “okay, do you want to wear this? or this?” and i just point to what im wearing now with a blank face (it’s my pj’s and/or lounge clothes) and he just looks at me with a defeated sigh.

⋆ corrects my wrongs with a conk of his head, an eyebrow raise and a long “aht.” he has a look that he gives me that immediately makes me stop whatever mischievous ministration i’m up too. “bubby. what are you doing?” “filling the tub up with toys!” “…and why have we decided to fill the tub up with toys?” “so i can make a toy bath!” *proceeds to give me ‘the look™️’

⋆ always makes sure i have my own aids when we’re going out n i have extras of his (“headphones?” “check!” “backpack?” “mhm!” “good boy..”) and if we’ll be standing for a while he checks up on me. asking how my body feels and that i don’t need to push myself.

⋆ always always involuntary regress around him. it’s hard to notice but what goes from usual quiet (making noise, humming, singing) goes to toddy quiet (making myself smaller so i take up less space in the room, finding places i can hide, not talking at all) n when he notices that im not in the room or that he can’t hear me he goes looking for me. brushes my hair out of my face when he finds me and holds his arms out for me to climb into them because he knows that i really just want to be underneath him and beside him. following him around like a lost puppy with a paci in my mouth.

[4me2knowandyou2wonder]

Teeth Headcanons for Modern Warfare characters

Our boy is finally here! Alex is the first headcanon I wrote and it has a special place in my heart. I am so happy to bring you all my thoughts on my tooth son.

Alex

Alex’s teeth are perfect, no like, have you SEEN him??

He is an American pretty boy through and through. (figures under the cut)

Alex always had pretty good teeth, but they weren’t perfectly straight, so in classic USA medical fashion his yearly dentist visit sent him to the orthodontist when he became old enough for braces to matter, and his orthodontist found just enough imperfections to recommend dental correction. My boy got an Invisalign at 16 back in high school. He was the cool kid on the block for it too because everyone else had braces and people were. Jealous. By 17 he had moved onto only needing to wear the trays at night. His teeth have been perfect ever since. 

Alex could have kept his wisdom teeth. Had he been anywhere other than the US he’d still have them, but his orthodontist didn’t know if they’d erupt smoothly *enough.* The x-rays looked pretty good, his upper wisdom teeth were less in need of surgery than his lower ones, but there was a risk with letting any of them stay there. Alex was on the fence about the procedure until he was informed that letting his wisdom teeth come in naturally could move his other teeth that he’d already gotten straightened out—after that, he was completely on board for their removal. (This however, is a soft version of dental malpractice, as its simply not true. Wisdom teeth either have space or they don’t and they probably won’t push your other teeth and mess up your smile, but whoever said dentists never make mistakes needs to go to a dentist. Alex had a play-book dentist that was unaware this is a common misconception and fell into it. If your dentist recommend getting your wisdom teeth removed to prevent your previously straighted teeth from moving slightly they’re not doing something right! Anyway back to headcanons. Alex of course didn’t know this at the time :( and they stole his wisdom)

His wisdom teeth removal wasn’t freshly filmed, but his childhood best friend met him back at his house to babysit him while high on the drugs and she’s got some great videos of him slowly coming down from it all. 

Today Alex still cares for his teeth. He’s an every morning and nightly teeth brusher, he flosses either with a spool or with the sticks (he’s not picky) when he doesn’t have access to his Waterpik [“It's more fun than flossing” -Alex] and still religiously wears his retainer trays every night that he can. He cares for his teeth he wants them to stay strong. He also encourages others around him to take care of their teeth! making sure everyone knows the importance of dental hygiene... he's a bit annoying about it

Actually I’m not done talking about Alex with a Waterpik! I went to post this and now I’m delaying it to talk more about this man's love of this machine. He did meticulous research before picking it. He’s go one with all the settings and bought the expansion pack of brush nozzles. Its the one luxury he complains about not having when he’s not staying at a place where using a Waterpik is feasible. Terrible beds? No potable water? Nothing but MRE’s to eat for a month? He’s a soldier he can handle it. But man,

Farah!! I miss my waterpik! *grumbles* 

Mmm Alex Keller <33

[mint-in-the-moonlight]

rituals in everyday life

so i was reading New Moon Magic: 13 Anti-Capitalist Tools for Resistance and Re-Enchantment by Risa Dickens and Amy Torok for some inspiration on the Virgo new moon and that chapter of the book contained something that got me thinking.

the authors discuss how a ritual is a repetitive action that accumulates results over time, not only in a magical practice. so for example, a skincare routine is a ritual with the accumulating goal of improving the condition of your skin as well as maintaining its health.

so i wanted to shortly reflect of some aspects of my daily life that could be seen as rituals and this may inspire you to look at the mundane a bit more magically too! if you're pagan like me, you could also see these rituals as actions you do for the gods, as offerings or devotional activities.

showering

this one is the obvious one. showering is the ritual to keep yourself generally clean. i never really thought of it as a ritual because i don't enjoy showering too much but i always feel clean and rejuvenated afterwards. having a shower or a bath could then be seen as a small cleansing ritual, getting you ready for the day ahead or purifying you from the day's troubles.

similar to this could be routines such as skincare, brushing your teeth, cutting your nails and other body cleanliness or maintenance tasks.

taking meds

for me this is specifically taking my testosterone which i do every day. it has become a routine so i don't really think about it much anymore but i should! it is a commitment i am making to my body and my happiness and similarly to the shower one, it is something that makes me feel happier and more in touch with myself.

if you also take meds, you can also think about the action as a ritual that prepares you for the day ahead (if you take them in the morning) or as the maintenance of your body and/or mind. if you don't take meds you could instead apply this to other morning routines such as eating breakfast, cooking food, taking vitamins or having a cup of coffee.

evening routine/ritual

in the evening i do multiple things that calm me down and set my mind into "getting ready for sleep" mode. i used to struggle with sleep a lot due to my adhd but i have since incorporated things that help me fall asleep more easily. now that i'm assessing this routine through a different lens, it seems more like a ritual, a series of motions that help me set my mind onto something and achieve my goal.

during my evening routine/ritual, i first take my melatonin which helps me to fall asleep in a timely manner. then i go floss and brush my teeth. after this i usually turn my laptop off, directing myself away from my desk and towards the bed. finally, i do my evening skincare routine and go lay in bed and while i sometimes still go on my phone or read, i am usually able to fall asleep soon enough. in a sense, this is a ritual that helps me fall asleep and have a good rest.

studying/going to school

while i have recently finished my degree, now in retrospect i see studying and going to school as a ritual which helps me build my future. thanks to education i have been able to not only learn many important and interesting things, i have also learned about myself and figured out what I want in life. while school and studying isn't always fun (let's be real, it's mostly not fun) it can be really beneficial to you, your sense of self and your future. so, you can think about it as a long-term ritual.

if you don't study (anymore) you can still apply this to other aspects of your life. for example, if you're looking for work like me, you can think of applying for jobs as a prosperity ritual, same thing with going to work. you could also see reading a book or doing research the same way.

other things that you could see as rituals

hanging out with friends - a ritual that maintains friendship, brings happiness and support etc.

cleaning your room/house, doing laundry, taking out the trash etc. - a ritual to keep your life and home organised and clan

charging and cleaning your electronic devices - a ritual to keep them working and in good shape

doing groceries - a ritual to keep you going and/or help you stay healthy

binding - a ritual to make you feel more comfortable in your body and/or to help you pass

+ add your own!

[gabby-i-guess]

ADHD PSA #3: Bath time 🛀

So I just moved into a new house, and for whatever reason, the gremlins living in my brain have decided that the new shower has ‼️BAD VIBES‼️ and therefore will only agree to let me have a shower when ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. I've been trying to figure out ways to bribe them into liking the shower, so here are a few ways I've tried to make my shower ADHD accessible.

1) DIY waterproof phone holder

Yes I know I sound like an iPad kid, but if having an audiobook/music/YouTube video playing while I shower lets me shower, I'm ok with that.

All you do is take a sturdy ziplock bag, pop your phone and a large bull clip inside, and zip it up tight (give it a lil squeeze to make sure there are no gaps). Now you can clip the bag onto your shower caddy from the inside, or another ledge or something (get creative), and voila - your phone stays totally dry and you stay entertained. You can even somewhat use your phone through the plastic, so you can change songs etc. When you're done, unclip the unopened bag, take it to a dry place, and you can open it and take your phone out there.

Here's a photo for demo:

2) Sort your shit out

Personally, I get super overwhelmed by all the steps in self-care tasks, including but not limited to showers. Routines like that involve like 10 steps that call on skills ADHDers really struggle with, like decisions, organisation, memory, executive functioning, and planning. So I've made things as simple as they can possibly be for me.

I have 4 little baskets in my cupboard for each of my regular routines:

morning (with makeup, sunscreen, moisturiser, and deoderant)

evening (with vitamin C serum, makeup wipes, pimple patches, and floss)

regular shower (with antibacterial soap, shampoo, conditioner, leave in conditioner, and a hair brush)

and ✨fancy shower✨ (with a razor, shaving cream, nice smelling soap, body moisturiser, curl cream, and a candle)

Now I can just yank out whatever basket I want and use whatever is in it on autopilot. Then, when I'm done, I can dump it all back into the basket and shove it all back into the cupboard. This method reduces how overwhelmed I get by so goddamn much that my fucking dentist commented on the noticeable improvement in my teeth, because I had actually consistently had the energy to floss. And when you're consistently flossing - well, it's only up from here baby 😎

3) DIY bath

The sensory experience of showering can be truly horrendous. And while I can't fix a lot of it, I can at least make it a little less... much. Yk?

So here's my solution:

Yup.

I got myself a blow up pool.

For my shower.

I am officially the coolest person alive.

This baby was $10 at Kmart, and is 80cm wide and 18cm deep - basically, cross your legs and it will not quite cover your thighs. To provide a little more insulation and some padding, I also popped an old towel under the pool. It's really not much, but it means I can sit down in comfortably warm water and splish-splosh myself clean. As opposed to showering, which (especially in a large bathroom/shower like I have now) is alternately way too cold and way too hot, way too loud, way too (I literally don't know how else to say it) "fast", way too out of control (so much splashing and water going everywhere, UGH), and just kinda generally way too much.

A bonus perk: I can finally use some nice pink bubble bath bombs from last Christmas 🥰🥰

I really hope one of these tips helps one of you out there. Keeping yourself clean is one of those "basics" that neurotypical/mentally well people don't realise is actually really hard.

You are doing a truly awesome job, and I'm truly, truly proud of you. Sending you love and warm, clean, sudsy thoughts ❤️

[lgcmaylin]

𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘. Wordcount: 726 Gif credit ©

✗ A Day in the Life of Maylin.

this was a new challenge for maylin. documenting her life in one day seemed like a lot to think about, and what she can and can't showcase during her filming. though the brunette decided not to overthink it too much, whatever the editors wanted to cut, they could do so without maylin feeling bad about their decision.

6:00 am.

this was when maylin woke up almost every day, the sound of her alarm gently playing in the background as she had already gotten up to set up this camera to catch her waking up. it was clear that while she woke up super early, the trainee wasn't a morning person at all. she sat in her bed for another five minutes, simply sitting and staring into space before getting up to do her daily morning routine. this consisted of flossing, brushing her teeth, washing her face, and putting out very minimal skincare alongside her regular amount of makeup. all of this was done in silence, there were no words to truly be said so early in the morning yet.

moving on to preparing her breakfast, this is when maylin began to speak in a whisper, not wanting to fully wake up the other girls in the dorm. "I'm not having anything special… just some leftover rice, kimchi, and the stew I made last night," she spoke while getting her food together, even making a snack for herself later that had yogurt, granola, and fruits in a container that was placed back in the fridge.

7:00 am.

by now, maylin is seen making her way to the company.

she expressed while walking that she likes to get to the studios earlier, just to squeeze in some alone time to stretch and truly get her mindset prepared for a full day of training. "in the midst of it all, the company is preparing for another family concert." she started, entering the studio's and placing the camera down so she could talk and stretch at the same time. "this would be my fourth… fifth, concert preparation and each year it gets even more exciting than the last." and one of the only times she could fully perform on stage with a crowd. the thought of doing this every year pushed maylin harder to achieve her goal of debuting.

when training began, and not giving much away from the practice session, maylin didn't want to record too much and take her focus away from learning - but she did record a good portion of her dance practice with the other trainees.

Lunchtime.

while maylin liked to eat alone, she met up with a close friend of hers for lunch, taeha. deciding to eat outside of the company that day, the girls went to a cafe close by. they spent the time they had eating and chatting with one another, catching up on the things they missed during their phone calls. maylin could be seen laughing along with her friend, sharing photos and even small ghost stories that she learned during the week.

6:00 pm.

maylin was now home, eating bibimbap that she picked up on her way back to the dorms. she sat at a desk in the corner of the room, her glasses on as she had placed the camera in front of her. "this is normally how my life is outside of school. if I was back in that routine, you guys would probably see me bouncing around a bit more from the college lifestyle to being a trainee at night." and how she juggle it all, along with her other hobbies? maylin doesn't know. she continued to chat with the camera about how excited she was to learn a new routine and dance with the other girls. she is the happiest performing, and dancing, of course. there would be a small twinkle in her eyes as she spoke.

8:30 pm.

her hair was visibly damp from her shower, now doing her skincare once more before letting her hair air dry as she went back to bed. this time, she turned on a small reading lamp that she installed on her bed. she was journaling in the dark, then reading a book before growing tired. her video ended here, of the young woman indulging in a fantasy book that would keep her up all night if she allowed it to.

[riddlerlesbian]

wake up calls

anzu struggles with the time difference between nyc and domino while miho makes the distance more bearable.

rating: G ship: coinshipping (anzu mazaki/miho nosaka) word count: 431 read on ao3 @5daysofygofemslash day three: routine

Anzu never thought of thirteen as unlucky until she moved to New York. And now, it’s not because she’s superstitious, it’s how removed from everyone back home it makes her. Home. New York City still doesn’t feel like home, no matter how long she stays there. Most of her day is night for her friends and everyone’s gone on such different paths, it’s almost impossible to plan times to talk.

Except for one.

Every day, she wakes up at five in the morning to a phone call. Miho gets home from the day shift at Kaiba Land at six and rings her. “You won’t believe what happened today…” the stories always start like that. If it’s a good day, a visitor won her a prize, because they were so taken by her. If it’s a bad day, a child spilled their slushie on her or she got candy floss in her hair. One time Kaiba stopped by and didn’t remember her name.

“Turn on video, let me see what you’re practicing!” Miho insists after her story.

Coincidentally, the stories always last just long enough for Anzu to get out of bed, brush her teeth, and stretch before she practices her routine. “You’ve seen this one before!” she’ll protest. Or: “No, no, it’s not ready for an audience.”

Miho pouts, turning her own camera on to make sure Anzu can see it. “Come on, Anzu-chan,” she whines. “Let me see you.”

And that’s what it’s really about. Miho doesn’t care what Anzu is doing, she just likes to be able to see her.

The glimpses that Anzu gets of Miho, she’s changing out of her work clothes and grabbing some dinner out of the fridge. Sometimes she sees her getting a cuter outfit. “Are you going out tonight?”

“Not until later,” Miho hums. “We have plenty of time. How was your audition last night?”

“How do you keep such good track of these things?” Anzu asks, doing stretches on pointe. “I can barely keep up with it all if I don’t write everything down…”

“I put it in my phone calendar.” Miho twirls her hair. “My schedule doesn’t change as much as yours, so I make sure we always have time.” … “That’s okay, right? It doesn’t creep you out or anything?”

Anzu smiles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll hear back in a few days about the audition.”

“I’ll visit you soon,” Miho says, blowing a kiss to the screen.

“Not if I visit you first. Are you calling tomorrow or should I set an alarm?”

“I’ll call you.”

[phrolovaa]

I feel like yapping so here’s an extremely lengthy post detailing my first ever surgery experience a couple months back. (Nothing graphic is mentioned, but I’ll put a mild cw for medical talk.)

I had to stop taking some of my medication a week before the surgery date, as discussed with an anesthesiologist.

The night before, I had a late dinner, since I couldn’t eat anything 12 hrs before the arrival time. I also had to shower and use antiseptic wipes an hour afterwards.

The day of surgery I was instructed to drink this Gatorade-like carbohydrate drink two hours before arrival time. It was grape flavored but tasted more like bubblegum to me. It was also kinda salty.

I was also instructed to brush my teeth and floss super well the morning of surgery. I’m not sure why the strong emphasis on dental hygiene when my surgery has nothing to do with my mouth, but I complied anyways.

My bf (who I call T) drove me to the hospital, where he would wait for me and take me home afterwards. We got there an hour and a half early but they were ready to check me in. They also took note of T’s contact info, since he was my designated person.

I had a chance to go to the bathroom while waiting to be taken to pre op. While there I remembered I needed to remove my nipple piercings. (Unfortunately this would be the last time I wore them because they closed up at some point after surgery. It’s been a fun five years with these piercings!)

They took me to the pre op room, where T and I parted ways. He was instructed to wait in the PACU room, which was connected to the pre op rooms.

For some reason, the tv in my room was playing some sort of true crime docuseries. Seems a bit inappropriate? but I thought it was funny so I didn’t ask anyone to change it.

There was very little privacy in the pre op room, with just a curtain by the door that shielded me from staff and other patients. I awkwardly changed into a hospital gown, hair net, and red grippy socks, and climbed onto my gurney, which had heated blankets.

It was at this point i began to feel super anxious, and a little bit psychotic. It was my first time being in a hospital setting since my psychotic break (it also happened to be the same hospital, just a different department) so I suppose the experience was a bit triggering for me. Wearing grippy socks and laying in a gurney certainly didn’t help.

When they took my vitals, one of the staff actually asked me, “is it normal for you to have an elevated heart rate?” I said no, but I also let them know I was just nervous. “Patient confirmed she is just nervous,” they said to another staff member.

The main nurse who cared for me in pre op was extremely nice though. She helped make the experience way more tolerable, and I felt calm in her presence. When it was time for her to insert the IV in my hand, she did her best to distract me from the sensation by talking about our favorite foods.

They ask you a ton of questions about your health and medical history when you’re there. And they ask them repetitively. I lost track of how many times they asked what medicine I take, or when my last meal was, or what kind of surgery I’m having. My guess is that they do it for safety or legal purposes, or perhaps they want to make sure you’re of sound mind. But it was really annoying and kind of disorienting.

After having my vitals taken, IV inserted, some personal questions asked, and speaking to the surgeon briefly, T was able to visit me for a moment. His presence calmed me down significantly. But he also expressed some pity, saying that he hated seeing me in a hospital setting like this. I let him know everything’s going to be ok.

I needed to go to the bathroom, which was a tricky task considering I was only partially clothed and connected to an IV bag. The main nurse had to help escort me and my bag to the bathroom which was kind of funny.

On our way there, it seemed like a patient in another room was having a panic attack, or some kind of mental break. He started crying, and then yelling about how he didn’t want to be there and wanted to go home. Staff had to close his room door and contact the psych department to help calm him down. It was a little unnerving, and I hoped he was ok.

Back in my room the surgeon came back to talk to both T and I, followed by the lead anesthesiologist. He was a cool guy and seemed to get along with my bf well. He asked, you guessed it, many of the same questions as earlier. But he also notified us that it was time to take me back, so he allowed us to say our goodbyes. I gave T a hug and a kiss, and the kind nurse ushered him back to PACU.

The next events happened so quickly I could barely remember them. You know how people describe things that happen fast as a “blur”? That’s what happened here.

First the anesthesiologist added a Xanax-like drug to my IV bag and hooo boy that shit had my body floating through the cosmos. I was so relaxed I didn’t want to move a muscle. Then some other staff came in to wheel me out of my room and down the hallway.

We entered the operating room, a brightly lit room with the surgical team all dressed in scrubs, masks, and hairnets, prepping the room for the procedure. I also spotted the robot that they would use on me. Were it not for the drugs they administered earlier i probably would have freaked the fuck out, but I just remember being so chill in this moment.

My surgeon spoke to me one last time before the surgery, but I couldn’t tell you what she said to me, because I don’t remember. I think she said something along the lines of “We’re going to take great care of you,” or “You’re in good hands.” Something reassuring like that.

They moved my gurney parallel to the operating table. They then instructed me to shimmy myself from the gurney onto the table, which I thought was kind of odd. Despite being high on not-Xanax and not wanting to move, I was able to transfer myself onto the table with little help.

Someone had then placed an oxygen mask on my face, and told me to take steady deep breaths. The very last thing I remember thinking before I blacked out was, “man… it’s kinda hard to breathe in this thing.” You know that maroon 5 song that’s like “is there anyone out there cuz it’s getting harder and harder to breathe” yeah that’s basically where I was at.

Next thing I knew I had teleported to the recovery room. My eyes fluttered open and I very slowly regained consciousness. The post op nurse realized I was awake, and greeted me. He told me I woke up way earlier than they expected me to, and asked how I felt. I said I was thirsty and he gave me water in a cup with a straw. My throat was sore as a mf and I realized they had intubated me during surgery.

The nurse let me know that T was just at the pharmacy getting my medication, but now that I’m awake, he’s free to come by to pick me up. I continued laying there, occasionally asking for sips of water, and trying to make sense of my situation.

The nurse then gave me some privacy to allow me to change into my clothes. I removed my hospital gown, looked down and saw they had wrapped some kind of binder around my waist, to stabilize my core. I was able to change into my shirt just fine, but I couldn’t put on my pants. The nurse asked if I would like a female nurse to come in and help me, but I apparently said I wanted my bf to help me instead (I don’t even remember saying that)

When T arrived he helped me put on my sweatpants and socks. He spoke to the post op nurse about my recovery, the medication, etc. Then it was time to take me home. Another nurse helped me get into a wheelchair and wheeled me out to the side of the hospital, where T’s car was parked.

I feel so bad about this part in hindsight, but apparently the nurse was trying to instruct me how to get in the car safely, and for some reason I just… wasn’t listening to her? Like I would ignore her instructions and attempt to get in the car normally, only to find it wasn’t possible. She ended up having to physically guide me into the car and buckle me up herself. I don’t know if it’s because I was still drugged up or semi conscious but for some reason I just wouldn’t listen to instructions.

On our way home T told me how he was lowkey freaking out during my surgery, because they told him the procedure would only take about an hour, but it actually took three hours? I later learned this was due to a minor, harmless complication during surgery. Harmless as in I wasn’t in any danger, but it required a more extensive cleanup which took more time than expected.

T brought me home, and helped me up the stairs to my room, where I struggled getting into bed. He brought me some water with a straw, and some plain toast. Let me tell you, plain toast never tasted so good. After not eating for almost a day, it was like the tastiest thing I’ve ever eaten. I savored that toast as if it was the last thing I’d ever eat.

I had a small bland dinner later than night, nothing heavy. But it was time for T to go home, as he had work and school the next day. I was sad that he couldn’t be around to take care of me for the rest of the night, but grateful for all the help he had given me that day. I couldn’t have gotten through it all without him.

The first night was rough. The drugs and anesthesia started to wear off, and I could feel the pain in my lower abdomen. I had a slight fever that night too, but luckily it only lasted a couple hours. I also started to feel sick, so i had to call my brother on his phone at 3am to ask him to help me take my nausea medicine. I barely got any sleep that night and when it was time to get up I needed my mom to help me out of bed.

Fortunately, the first night was the worst of it. With every day that passed, my recovery got easier. I didn’t even have anymore nausea after day 2, and by day 5, I didn’t need the pain meds anymore. The pain never even went higher than a 5/10 even at its worst, and I was able to attend an in-person work related meeting literally a week later.

The only part that sucked for a while was not being able to use my core muscles for about two weeks. So I couldn’t carry anything heavier than 10 lbs, I could barely get out of bed on my own, couldn’t bend down fully, etc. Even after the two week mark i continued to have discomfort in my lower abdomen. But again, with every day that passed, it got easier and easier to deal with.

Now two months later I am still cysts-free and i feel no more discomfort. I’m basically back to how I was before, aside from the five scars on my belly and my lack of nipple piercings.

I hope I never have to have surgery again but if I do I at least know what to expect now. I’ll probably be way better prepared for it too, because there were a lot of things I didn’t anticipate this time around.

[dental-disease01]

How Proper Aligners Care Can Improve Your Treatment Outcome?

Taking care of your teeth aligners is just as important as wearing them consistently. Proper maintenance not only extends their lifespan but also ensures that they remain effective throughout your treatment. By following a few essential care tips, you can keep your aligners clean, clear, and functioning at their best.

Clean Your Aligners Daily

I always recommend cleaning your aligners every morning and before bed. Bacteria and plaque can accumulate on them just like on your teeth. Using a soft-bristled toothbrush and clear, unscented soap is the best way to keep them fresh. Avoid using toothpaste, as it can be too abrasive and may scratch the aligners.

Rinse Aligners Every Time You Remove Them

Each time I take out my aligners, I make sure to rinse them with lukewarm water. This prevents saliva and bacteria from drying on the surface, reducing the risk of bad odors and discoloration. However, I’m always careful not to use hot water, as it can warp the plastic and affect the fit.

Soak Aligners for a Deeper Clean

To keep aligners crystal clear, I soak them daily in a denture or aligner cleaning solution. A mixture of equal parts water and white vinegar also works well for removing buildup. After soaking for about 15-20 minutes, a gentle brush and rinse ensure they are ready to wear again.

Avoid Eating or Drinking While Wearing Aligners

I never eat or drink anything other than water while wearing my aligners. Colored beverages, such as coffee, tea, and soda, can stain them, while hot drinks can cause warping. Food particles trapped between the aligners and teeth can also lead to cavities, so I always remove them before meals.

Store Aligners in a Protective Case

Whenever I take my aligners out, I place them in a protective case. Leaving them exposed on a table or napkin increases the risk of contamination, loss, or accidental damage. Keeping them in a case ensures they stay safe and hygienic. Quality care, affordable prices at affordable dentist in Mitcham—Learn more!

Maintain Good Oral Hygiene

Since aligners fit snugly over my teeth, I make sure to brush and floss after every meal. Any trapped food can cause plaque buildup and bad breath, affecting both oral health and the effectiveness of the aligners. A clean mouth means a healthier and more successful treatment process.

Final Thoughts

Caring for teeth aligners properly ensures the best possible results and keeps them in top condition. By following these simple steps, I can maintain a bright, confident smile while ensuring my treatment stays on track.

Read more articles about Wisdom Teeth Removal Mitcham here at - https://indibloghub.com/post/the-role-of-a-children-s-dentist-in-teething

[etruatcaelum]

send GRIEVED for a scene from my muse's past in which they had recently lost someone / something [ polendina ]

Pietro can't remember the last time he made penance. The regular attendance prescribed by his parents had dwindled when he took up residence at Ginnungagap to just the four appointed days throughout the year; some time after his graduation, he had stopped going at all, while his faith withered.

He'd forgotten… many things.

Shuffling now like an old man into the nave, Pietro unearths a newfound reverence for the simple grandeur of it all. The arcade pillars dripping with alabaster statuary and gold inlay, each depicting a face of the Radiant One: the wild Dawn-Dragon roaring with the sun in His claws, the Golden Monarch seated upon His fiery throne, the lambent antlers of the Midsummer Stag piercing the flank of the Night-Wolf; small marble figures of man and faunus alike kneel in prayer about the base of every tableaux, framed by trellises of painted marble scrolls.

Beneath his feet, the starry, midnight-blue parquet of the narthex flushes the colors of sunrise—red, pink, gold—and brightens toward cerulean where it meets the gilded arches of the solar tree.

Father Areg has grown older, his face deeply lined, the thick salt-and-pepper of Pietro's memory faded to soft white wisps of candy-floss; but he putters back and forth beneath the golden boughs just as he did when Pietro was a young boy, and his smile still puts starlight in his watery blue eyes.

"Pietro?" he says in his startling bass, roughened by the passage of years but otherwise unchanged. "Why, hello—I did not expect–" He catches himself, and his tone gentles. "How can I help you, my boy?"

"Father." The word crackles in his throat; Pietro swallows thickly, and the priest's warm smile becomes a look of piercing concern. "I–"

Long neglect binds his tongue and makes his fingers clumsy. The cane he clutches with his left hand, slick with sweat, obliges him to draw the coronal sign before himself half-circle, and shame burns in him like bile. Head bowed, voice hoarse, Pietro whispers, "I have come to make a penance, Father."

Father Areg murmurs something he doesn't catch through the ringing in his ears, but Pietro feels the weight of a gnarled hand upon his arm and follows, guided by the priest and old habit alike to the low, cushioned bench at the fore of the nave-aisle.

Kneeling causes a terrible pain to rise from the middle of his thigh in bright, fiery arcs to the small of his back. Pietro grits his teeth, and grips his cane, and though he trembles, he does not cry out, nor collapse.

"When you're ready," Father Areg says kindly, laying a hand on his shoulder, and then, "Lament of your sin, for it assails the spirit; it has taken you from the living waters of the Light our God. Therefore weep, my child; let flow the tears of sorrow to make ready your parched soul for His renewal."

Pietro closes his eyes, exhaling. These are old words, comfortingly familiar, and greater than the pain clawing through his body.

He had retrieved his old prayer book from its shoebox at the top of his closet yesterday morning, to study and prepare, and yet he thinks now that even had he not done so, the proper beginning would have come to him, as natural as his own breath: "I regret," Pietro says, "my sins, voluntary and involuntary, knowing and ignorant, great and small, committed by word and deed, in thought or intention, whether in light or in shadow, every hour and minute of my life. I weep over my lack of faith, my doubting, my cynicism, my pride, my indifference…"

It has been many years. His recitation needs must be long, though no one human could give a truly thorough accounting of every sin committed in so long a span. The pain turns like a screw, ever tighter and deeper while Pietro offers the story of his failings: the impatient arrogance which had first led him astray, the commitment to his studies that eclipsed faith and became idolatrous; the accumulated shames of a thousand thoughtless things he's said, of callous moments when he might have been kind, of greed, of ungenerous deeds, of taking for granted the riches he has.

Pietro is not a bad man. He hopes that in the course of his life, he has helped more than he has harmed; always, he has strived to make this world a better one than he found it.

"…but for this, too, I weep, for I have so often committed the sin of self-judgment, placing myself in arrogance before the Light, my Judge, and in deeming myself good I turned away from His wisdom and became blind to my faults and my failures…"

Tears drip down his face; from pain, and from the relief of this unburdening. Once or twice he's obliged to pause in his recitation to wipe his face with his sleeve, and about halfway through he can take the agony of kneeling no longer and admits, voice breaking: "I—Father, I am sorry, I think I must—sit, instead."

"Our bodies break and fail us," Father Areg murmurs with a sad, gentle humor. "It is the nature of mankind to be touched by destruction, and no sin to act in accordance with the limitations of our flesh." He pauses, and while he helps Pietro assume a less painful position on the bench, he adds quietly, "Though it can be a sin of falsehood if we deny such limits, to ourselves or to others."

"Right," Pietro says, and gives a bleak sort of chuckle. "I fear that is a sin I have committed every day for quite… quite some time."

Father Areg squeezes his shoulder, silent, and Pietro takes another moment to compose himself before he resumes speaking.

How long it is, he cannot guess, but he is aware of others coming in and out of the church: of a youthful acolyte sweeping the opposite nave-aisle, of a woman who enters from the narthex on tip-toe to whisper a midday intercession before the icon of Saint Osgyth, of the deacon singing a hymn while he goes about lighting the candle-leaves of the solar tree. In his youth, Pietro remembers feeling embarrassed to make penance within hearings of others, but it comforts him now; he is not alone.

When at last the well of his preparation runs dry and he lapses into troubled silence, Father Areg murmurs, "Is that the end of it?"

"No, Father," Pietro says quietly. "There is—one thing more, which burdens my heart most of all. I am… ashamed." He takes a deep breath. "My colleague, Arthur Watts– he—sometimes, he is difficult, but he is my friend, and he– when the rebels took Fort Shiro, he saved my life. I have been… most ungrateful to him; no doctor in the world could have done better, under such circumstances, and yet I begrudged him—held it against him that I will suffer the rest of my life in an imperfectly healed body. It is because of him that I can still walk at all, but it hurts, and I have held hatred in my heart for him as if he were my tormentor."

Swallowing thickly, Pietro stops again to cover his eyes. Arthur is a prouder man than even he, and a man of high, barbed walls who might almost rather die than reveal a shred of vulnerability to anyone: difficult is a generous word. But three days ago, the hurt that wrenched across his face when Pietro snapped that Arthur would have done better for him by leaving him to die had been impossible to mistake, no matter how swiftly the man buried it behind caustic outrage; and far more than his own misery, it is that which woke Pietro to what he has become, is becoming.

"…I do not," Pietro croaks, "wish to be—this, this… bitter, angry man. Thus I have sinned. Have mercy upon me, O God, forgive me and calm my heart; accept, O Maker of All, my repentance, that I might approach thy sacred teachings in the spirit of your mercy. I pray now for the remission of my sins and correction of my soul. I pray thee, bring down the barriers of my heart and humble me, that I might make amends with those whom I have hurt, and the ones I have made to stumble. To thy everlasting Light I commend my mortal life. Amen."

He feels lighter at once, as if flushed of all the grime and cobwebs of these long years, and it is a relief to bow his head in solemn silence while Father Areg prays over him to complete his penance. In a few moments, when the rite has ended, they may speak more of his ugly quarrel with Arthur, of his brokenness, of his pain; Pietro trusts the priest will offer him sound advice, though he suspects some will be a little singeing to hear.

For now, though, he breathes, and the tears on his face are tears of simple relief.