#which leads me to my full night insomnia

[smittenskitten]

I wish there were more hours in the day for me to watch everything I want, obsess over the new show I am watching, work full time and get through a full sleeping cycle

[lick-me-lennon22]

Beatles X ADHD!Reader Headcanons

(Hello, everyone!! I apologize for the short hiatus, I've been going through a lot following my 21st birthday as well as some family/work troubles. I also want to give a happy, happy 84th birthday full of peace and love to the one and only Richard Starkey!!! ☮️💞☮️💞☮️💞 As always, please let me know if anything in this post comes across as offensive or insensitive, and take what resonates with you :) I'm glad to be back and hope you all enjoy this post!!)

John

John is intrigued by your unique perspective and view of the world

He admires your creativity and often finds inspiration in your spontaneous ideas

He encourages you to channel your energy into your passions - whether it's music, art, or any other creative pursuit

John understands that you may struggle with focus at times and offers gentle reminders or helps you create strategies to stay organized

He'll support you through restless nights by staying up and chatting with you, plagued by his own insomnia, and helps you get your energy out

He also understands that you may thrive in an environment that may seem chaotic to others, but embraces the unpredictability and encourages you to express yourself freely without fear of judgement

John greatly values your honesty and openness about your challenges

He shares his own vulnerabilities and struggles with you, creating a bond built on mutual understanding and support

He enjoys engaging in deep conversations with you, exploring different topics and learning from your point of view

You two often have late-night chats that range from philosophical discussions to whimsical flights of fancy

He appreciates your ability to jump from topic to topic, finding it refreshing and inspiring

John absolutely loves to collaborate with you on creative projects, whether it's writing songs together or brainstorming ideas for new ventures

Your spontaneous and unique ideas often lead to innovative and unexpected song lyrics or artistic projects

During times when you feel overwhelmed or distracted, John offers a supportive presence

Whether it's through gentle reminders, offering reassurance, or simply listening as you ramble about your latest hyperfixation, he provides unwavering comfort and understanding

Paul

Paul is naturally a very supportive and nurturing partner

He is exceptionally patient and understanding during times when you become distracted or overwhelmed

He also thrives on creating structure and routine, which helps you manage your symptoms effectively

He'll collaborate with you to create adaptive routines and to-do lists that accommodate you, designing schedules that provide flexibility while ensuring important tasks are completed without stress

Paul helps you channel your creative energy into organized projects

He enjoys planning songwriting sessions or artistic endeavors that allow you to streamline your enthusiasm and ideas

Paul listens attentively when you ramble and infodump about your hyperfixations

His optimism and positivity uplift you, helping you feel more confident and capable in managing your ADHD

He always makes it a point to celebrate your achievements, big and small, recognizing the effort and determination it takes to accomplish tasks despite your ADHD-related challenges

Paul is very attuned to your emotional needs, offering comfort and support during moments of frustration or overwhelm

During periods of self-doubt, Paul makes sure to emphasize his belief in your abilities and resilience

He will also take the liberty of decluttering your work and living spaces, as well as locating items you may have misplaced, wanting to keep you from experiencing additional stress

He will often pick up your medication for you (if applicable), and always reminds you to take your meds

Paul helps you set clear goals and prioritize your tasks

He suggests therapies and coping mechanisms, helping you to make informed decisions to improve your daily life

George

George appreciates your spontaneity and creativity, and feels it aligns well with his laid-back personality

He encourages you to explore different hobbies and interests, recognizing your potential to excel in various creative endeavors

He values your insight and often seeks your perspective on music, philosophy, and art

George appreciates your ability to share your experiences openly with him, even when your thoughts are racing or your emotions are intense

You bond over using music as a form of therapy, playing acoustic guitars together or listening to soothing melodies that help calm your mind and enhance your focus

George enjoys spending quiet moments with you - whether it's meditating, enjoying nature, or simply existing and decompressing together

He loves to escape with you to peaceful, natural settings where you can both unwind, connect with one another, and find inspiration in the beauty of your surroundings

He provides a calming presence for you, helping you feel grounded and supported in moments of overwhelm or distraction

George notices small details about your behavior and mood, which helps him recognize when you need gentle reminders or space to recharge

He always respects your need for personal space and quiet moments

George, of course, introduces you to and walks you through mindfulness practices and meditation techniques that help you center yourself and manage your ADHD symptoms more effectively

He supports you in setting boundaries and encourages you to prioritize self-care

George shares his passion for health and wellbeing with you, encouraging activities like yoga, journaling, and nutritious cooking, which promote physical and mental balance

Ringo

Ringo embraces your spontaneity, finding joy and solace in your playful and creative nature

He values your unique talents and perspectives, always taking genuine interest in your hyperfixations

Ringo encourages you to express yourself freely and to always embrace your quirks and unique strengths

His humor and warmth create a positive atmosphere where you feel accepted and cherished for who you are

His lighthearted approach helps alleviate day-to-day stress and pressure

Ringo finds great pleasure in making you laugh, and appreciates your own playful sense of humor and view of things

Ringo is naturally flexible and adaptable, which helps him to navigate your changing moods and interests with ease

He recognizes that your ADHD may lead to shifts in your interests or priorities and remains supportive and understanding in these moments

Ringo enjoys planning outings and activities that cater to your interests, making sure you're both engaged and having fun

He savors moments of comfortable silence and parallel play with you, where you can simply be together without constant need for stimulation or conversation

He deeply appreciates the peace and connection found in these quiet moments

Ringo creates a safe space for you to express yourself creatively however you see fit - whether it be through doodling, writing, or other forms of artistic expression

Empathy is a huge aspect of his support, as he also struggles with ADHD symptoms and navigates his challenges alongside yours

He provides a comforting and understanding presence during times where you feel frustrated or overstimulated

Ringo offers a calming and positive demeanor, as well as unconditional support, reassuring you that you are not alone in managing your ADHD

[wheeboo]

insomniac | lee jihoon

SYNOPSIS. in which jihoon has trouble falling asleep. PAIRING. lee jihoon x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship WARNINGS. mentions of insomnia WORD COUNT. 1.2k

notes: just a random jihoon comfort drabble because he works so hard for us and deserves everything in the world <3

Jihoon can’t fall asleep.

It was nothing out of the ordinary for him, as he finds his days filled with exhausting schedules that easily wears him out, yet he spends his nights specifically to produce new music for the group. But as the rest of the world around him settled into deep slumber, Jihoon remained wide awake in those ungodly hours, fueled by nothing but the intensity of his creative passion.

He couldn’t tell if there was any reasoning behind it𑁋if there was a reason why his brain is so full of ideas that it can’t seem to just shut up and be quiet for once, so he feels the need to put it all down first until the wee hours of the night before having to force himself to sleep, which in itself doesn’t really do his body well. 

The cycle had started over a month ago𑁋that’s what he told you at least𑁋but time seemed to lose all meaning when he was in the zone. The days blurred together, punctuated only by the occasional meeting or performance. Jihoon couldn't remember the last time he had a good night's rest. His mind resembled a galaxy of inspiration, and he was just a mere person trying to capture its brilliance in sound.

Jihoon finds himself staring at his computer in front of him, eyes dry and a bit heavy, yet his mind is completely awake. It’s around three in the morning and he’s probably gotten up once or twice in the last few hours. He knows himself that whatever he was doing was unhealthy; you nagged him about it just an hour ago, and now you were coming over.

His phone vibrates and he takes it in his hands, reading through your short text.

[my y/n 🤍] can you let me inside?

Jihoon’s heart twinges with guilt as he reads your message. He knows he should have listened to you and taken better care of himself, but the allure of his music and the pressure of his work had consumed him. He had become a slave to his insomnia, unable to break free from its grasp.

[my jihoon ❤️] door is unlocked. be careful

The moment he sends the text he hears some footsteps outside his door. He stands up from his chair, releasing a groan from the slight ache in his step, and heads his way to greet you. 

Immediately once he opens the door, he frowns at how disheveled and tired you look when taking off your shoes, knowing that you made the effort to come to his studio for him. You carried a bag from what he presumes is food from the convenience store at your side. Gosh, what time did he last eat?

“You didn’t have to come here, Y/N.” Jihoon reaches a hand out to help steady you as you chuck your shoes off to the side. 

“I had to, honey.” The term of endearment sends something through his heart. “I can’t stop thinking about you continuously pushing yourself these days. I miss having you at home.”

Before he could respond, you take his hand in yours and lead him to the couch, placing down the plastic bag on the table. Jihoon helps you unpack the contents inside. It was just two bowls of ramen and a pack of microwaveable rice. 

“Here, I’ll warm this up for us. Just wait on the couch.” Jihoon takes lead and grabs the two bowls of ramen and rice, bringing it to the little kitchen area to the side and filling the bowls up with preprepared hot water. 

You find yourself sprawled on top of the couch, watching your boyfriend quietly hum his way through the studio. Even though you were tired yourself, you made an objective to not fall asleep right on the spot. You wanted him to be with you. You wanted him to try and fall asleep with you, and maybe just maybe help him get some decent sleep even for one night. 

And if you had to keep showing up to his studio to coax him out of work, then that’s what you were going to do. Nothing was going to stop you. 

Once Jihoon finishes warming up the rice and letting the ramen cool down, he brings the food back to where you are and sits himself down on the couch right next to you.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, though there was a bit of lingering tension in the air knowing that the elephant in the room had to be addressed at some point. For now you both just cherish the time together since a lot of Jihoon’s work had interfered the two of you from fbeing able to spend time with each other. 

Once you finish eating, you glance over at him, pushing back some of his dark loose strands in his face behind his ear so that you could see his side-profile better. You see his lips curve up in small appreciation, but he can’t seem to get himself to make eye contact with you. The guilt coursing through him felt as if he was a bit more distant than usual.

“You know you deserve a break sometimes, right?” You ask him, watching him take in your words so heavily that it makes him momentarily pause.

Jihoon nods his head, a small sigh leaving his lips. “I know. But ever since we discussed our comeback preparations, I... I can’t help myself, you know? I need to make everything perfect.”

You listen to him carefully, taking in his words like the gentle melody he has the art in making. Jihoon had always been aware of the immense pressure on his shoulder over the years and it just now began to take an obvious toll on his health both mentally and physically. 

“I just can’t rest knowing I have all these ideas, all these words for lyrics...” Jihoon scrunches his face up together, exhaling a deep breath. “But I do wish I can just sleep and rest.”

That’s when your face lights up just a bit. “That’s why I’m here. You’re going to take a rest with me, whether you like it or not.”

Jihoon peers at you as if you were crazy. “Y/N𑁋”

“Jihoon, honey, please rest with me. One night is all I ask for,” You practically beg him. “At least lay here with me until morning. I know your work is important to you, but... I miss you. I miss holding you and when you hold me.”

You stare at him with pleading eyes and Jihoon can never get himself to resist you. Though he has a lot of trouble expressing how he feels, he can never deny just how vulnerable and sensitive you make him sometimes. You always found the smallest ways to take care of him, even if it meant sacrificing yourself in a way. He’s always been grateful for that, and he knows that someday he will repay you. He has to.

Jihoon glances between you and his open computer in the background, finally letting his shoulders relax. 

“Okay.” He stands up, motioning to his computer. “Let me just turn all this off and then I can hold you.”

You shake your head amusedly. “I’d rather hold you this time if that’s okay with you.”

Jihoon feels a smile creep on his face as he walks to turn off his computer and soundboard. He’s not against that idea either.

[sealofarchives]

Could you do a headcanon of the Rottmnt Leo of how he would react when he realizes he is in love with the reader? (neutral gender)

Headcanon/Oneshot: The slow realization of Leo falling in love with the reader. (Requested prompt)

A/N: Accidentally went with a slight oneshot but, hopefully this has what the request is looking for.

Insomnia won another night as Leo gave up trying to stick to a normal sleep schedule. Now scrolling on his phone bored from the lack of funny videos on youtube. And decided to try and organize the photos he saved on his device. Until he found a few photos of you two together.

Going backward from the most recent picture and then eventually. Seeing the first photo of you with him.

You weren't really one for photos so... Your face had a bit of trying to smile like what you usually do at awkward family gatherings. But, still had fun around this self confident red slider turtle.

A digital memento of the white lie of

"I was supposed to check out this place ahead of time but..."

"Naaaah, where's the fun in that!"

"Might as well hang out with (Y/N) for a bit so it doesn't seem like a boring escort mission."

His focus now taking mental notes at the later pictures where.

You felt comfortable enough to speak up about your personal space and sometimes not in the mood for a hug. Which he, Raph, and Mikey are guilty of giving surprise affection and very much took the issue in a serious manner.

Resulting in you sometimes out of your comfort zone and taking the lead when something has your full attention. The pictures almost being subtle examples where you can finally be yourself.

Memories of a safe and mutual trust built between you and the turtles' small friend group.

Even joining in on some goofy poses that he can't help but, tease you about it on some random night out.

His heartbeat almost stopped at a past video where he surprised you with a plushie of your favorite character for your birthday.

.

..

...

He saw himself blushing being pulled into your bear hug that almost choked him out of breath. While Donnie recorded the said video as the softshell turtle snickered at his brother's obvious sign of a crush. Leo gave a light glare at his brother until seeing the sweetest smile on your face. The video ending just as the blush deepen close to spreading acrossing his light blue mask.

He remembered how Donnie immediately went with a dating survey. The what type of person you date icebreaker. And a bit of payback of Leo stealing the second slice of your birthday cake.

"Totally not taking notes for your potential future spouse."

Leo facepalmed how much he had to hide any bit of jealousy to avoid ruining your special day. But, it stung hearing you laugh at Donnie's idea and going along with it. Thinking of it as a fun what if game.

Since you almost give the same attention to him. His snarky attitude is rarely at you with how often you're never bored by his routine techno babble. Along with how much patience you have. Dealing with two turtles who deny having some ego problems.

Leo lazily put his phone away on top of his bed.

With a slow sigh to relax his nerves, he replaces his sleep mask with a fresh light blue mask and stood up to wear a dull blue hoodie.

Holding one of this signature swords as he opens up a light blue portal.

("Sorry Donnie but, I'm not into the idea of sharing (Y/N) with you.")

("I feel more at ease with them by my side...")

("Even if I don't have the words for a proper heartfelt confession...")

("I know they can help with me with that.")

Leo held onto to his phone staring at the new phone wallpaper.

Just the two of you. Almost posed together like a couple while attempting to stay focus for a boring grocery shopping list.

He shook off the embarrassing feeling and will pick a different one later but, for now.

The instant text message reply of you still being awake at these late hours gave him another push to ask you out on an actual date. As he jumped through the portal to your room with no hesitation.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Siúil a Rún (Alfie Solomons x Irish Fem!Reader, Modern AU)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romance, Modern AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Irish Fem!Reader

Word count: 5.5K

Warnings: Allusions to past violence & trauma, talk of the IRA, mild swearing

Summary: On a day you're not feeling your best, fighting yet another hard battle with your greatest enemy, your mind, Alfie has a little surprise prepared for you. After all, all he wants is to see you smile.

And make a lasting promise to his Irish queen.

Author's Note: Gods above, it's finally here! At long last I had the energy and time to finish this piece, which is partially inspired by my recent moods. Ah dinnae ken what it is, but don't you worry about my head or how I'll fix it. Instead, enjoy this piece.

TH Masterlist

Tag list: @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @zablife @vir-tual @liliac-dreamer @dreamlandcreations @mollybegger-blog @babaohhhriley @hoodeddreams13 @rose-like-the-phoenix

Alfie's POV

I’m no fan of the Irish, who can’t even remember what they had for fucking breakfast. However, right, they can perfectly recall their great-great-however many times- grandfather’s best friend’s cousin’s name and the unjust treatment he got from Oliver Cromwell if not the Black and Tan if they have a particularly clear check in with reality.

Yet here I am.

Engaged to my Irish queen, come all the way from Belfast. Raised in a family that supports the IRA, a bunch of hooligans that’ll do well to be tossed in the lock and left to drown.

But not her.

No.

She cut ties to home the moment she set foot ashore in Liverpool and boarded the train to London. She ain’t English, doesn’t particularly like them. So fancy the shock me ticker got when it turned out she liked me.

Or I her, as she likes to remind me, bringing up the time I asked her to taste the Irish sourdough I made her. She’d just arrived in town, wandered into my bakery looking like a parched twig on a stormy day, and sat by the window with an awfully glum face. Curious about this darling little dove who flew in, I lumbered over to see what had her caught up in her phone and laptop. One look at the screens told the whole story behind the erratic fingers flying over the keyboard or tapping away.

A place to stay, to call home.

In a land that had oppressed hers for centuries, still sees her as an outsider.

In the very capital of the cyclops, king of northern giants.

Now I, yeah, saw an opportunity to earn a little extra cash on the side. Sure, Margate is about two hours outside London by train so I couldn’t charge the full price for the room I had left over.

I didn’t.

For when those dove eyes turned to me, haunted and scared to death, whether it be due to her circumstances or me as a man I still do not know nor want to, I hadn’t the guts to ask her for a single penny.

Only a sliver of trust.

Though my rings, my kingdom, are covered in blood, I fortunately pleased Yahweh enough to have her put her trust in me. It’s a fragile thing, built over various meals, starting with silent breakfasts which gradually have filled with drowsy small talk. Normally I loathe small talk because if someone wants to say something and wants me to understand, they should talk. Nonetheless, Y/N doesn’t have to. Her voice is like an angel’s song, pleasant to wake up with.

And to fall asleep to on the nights the insomnia hits hard again. You get that, living a life of violence. Yet, even gods can’t simply forget.

I can only hide my crimes, spin a pretty yarn for an excuse, and pretend.

Pretend I’m a good man.

For her. 

If only because my midnight baking episodes have reduced since we met. Because I don’t, no, can’t do without those small hands leading me out of the kitchen and back up the stairs to what is now our bedroom. Pathetic, innit, how I also can’t live without those pretty fingers running through my beard until I can breathe normally. Close my eyes without ghosts creeping from the darkest shadows of my mind. To not feel the rage simmering beneath my skin.

For the first time in years, I can sleep again.

And if neither of us can find peace in slumber, we’ll slip into the old habit of having coffee or tea in the living room until the sun rises. No matter if we have an outing planned the next day or not.

It was on an outing like that, to Oxford, after a brief visit to that shithole called Birmingham, she first held my finger.

Two weeks later, when we popped by Hastings, she held my hand.

A month passed before she hugged me, in Cecil Court, during our first book and antiques shop hopping trip. I had bought her a vintage bound copy of one of her favourite books, Gods and Fighting Men by Lady Gregory.

However, it was in Camden, right outside me own bakery, on a bloody rotten autumn day, we first kissed. Cinnamon sugar and pumpkin spice, that’s what she tasted like.

My Irish queen.

Y/N will always claim it’s me who first confessed. Regardless of whether that’s true or not, in my opinion, right, and through genuine testimony, it was her wistful smile and timid ‘thank you’ as I served her a ham sandwich made with the sourdough I learned during one of my visits from a lovely old lady in Donegal and O’Neills ham which makes her the first to confess. Little did I know the brooding sadness around her could get much worse.

Since there are days she gets like this, reluctant to interact with the world. She’ll go out with Cyril, a barely mustered smile on her gentle face. 

It does her good. Our big bugger takes me on walks that are manageable even when my leg’s bad and her on those long enough to let her mind wander and forget about the desire to stay home. Like yesterday, they are again sitting side by side on the shore.

Y/N wrapped in my coat and scarf.

Cyril at her side.

Watching the waves.

Funny, innit, how a man of many words absolutely can’t stand the silence of his own house. Tragic, too, because it means he can’t live with himself. Perhaps that’s why I always bury myself in work, the bakery.

Our bakery.

Look, Y/N was the one who insisted on helping out. I was ready to give her board and room for free, though I was also desperate for help since business had taken a hit. Too cold, manly, rough. In need of a woman’s touch.

It was only when she told me it ain’t right to accept the offer without repaying the debt she never had and called me mister Solomons I took her on.

Mostly because she’d call me Alfie right from the start, wouldn’t see me as her boss or landlord. I never was nor am a fan of formalities, polite behaviour or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. You only get to know a person and their intentions once you place them in an informal environment, lull them into a sense of safety. Or, in her case, a sense of friendship too.

After a few more moments of watching them from the balcony, I head back inside to busy myself in the kitchen. Now, normally, yeah, on my rare day off, I love to bake. Gets the mind off things since you only have to focus on what your hands are doing and you get the ingredients right. Alleviates some of the stress the bakery saddles me up with, but those involved with the business need discipline so I can’t take a break. Would leave it to the dogs. Regardless, Ollie, the bloody bastard I hired as an assistant branch manager, forbade me to come into work. It’s my fucking bakery! Yet, though I’m loath to admit it, I am thankful he did this particular day. Must’ve felt Y/N had been different these past days, always has been good at dealing with people and emotions despite his panicky disposition. Better than me.

At least leaves her with one person to understand her entirely whereas I still grasp at straws at times.

Godhood comes with its complications, but I’ll do my best for Y/N.

For Mrs Solomons.

It’s worth the tightening in my chest, the battle for air while the same concerns keep milling in my noggin like some damned ever-turning grinding stone. I ain’t afraid of anything.

Anything except this mood.

It’s like Yahweh has established the terrifying truth of what she might be like when me health finally wins the battle, granting me a vision of a future in which we’re separated. Or perhaps it is an alternate reality in which I don’t exist or we’ve even never met. This morning, as Y/N stood by the door, her vacant gaze saw right through me as I draped my scarf around her neck. I kept rambling, not nagging, no, rambling on about how she’d catch a cold if she didn’t dress warmly despite knowing she wasn’t paying attention. As I placed a kiss on her forehead she likely didn’t feel, the comforting sense of normalcy shattered, turned into dust along with the little bit of sanity I had established by acting like everything was fine. Thankfully she felt warm in my arms because we might as well have been spectres moving past each other. Then she sauntered out the door, slow and ghostly.

My beautiful Irish queen.

When this mood strikes her, it takes away her voice. She won’t talk, reluctant to participate in any sort of conversation. Although, I think she hopes her quietness proves enough of a hint to not want to be surrounded by any voices at all. Not even mine. Now, any other man, right, any other sod who’s too self-obsessed to understand his girl, would go mad. I, on the other hand, the very image of an understanding and wise man who cares about his girl, his wife, speak less if at all to accommodate her. Instead, in the fleeting moments she’s here, Y/N communicates via small gestures.

A tug on my sleeve when she wants attention.

A brush over my fingers, a silent request for guidance.

We don’t go out in London on days like this. We tried once and while everything went fine, all things considered, the thought something happens in the split second I don’t pay attention breaks my already damaged nerves. Trafalgar Square is tricky enough as is to navigate with the fucking awful traffic, but when she’s barely here and we don’t cross the street in time or our hands let go of each other…

Eyes squeezed shut, I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly to remedy the tightening in my chest. To burn the claws crushing my ribs to ashes and let them take the nauseating vision in my banged up nogging with them. Blown away on the briny wind outside, past the lonely beach.

Left to drown in the sea across the road.

Right in front of her, vanishing beneath the waves. Cyril will make sure she won’t notice, keeps an eye on her when I can’t.

Especially when I’m too caught up in my own head, engulfed by something very, very grim. 

Eyes closed, I breathe in and exhale deeply as I repeat the thought like the verses in the Torah, embedding it further and further into my entire tainted being with each repetition. Only when my breathing has evened out and me ticker beats at regular intervals do I carry on.

I quit drinking after we met. Y/N needed a safe home and with an old drunk brute you ain’t going to find that. So I poured the rum, beer, and wine down the drain the very same evening and a drop hasn’t entered my house since. The day she first put her suitcase across the threshold, I’d been sober for a week.

We’re now a year further.

For all the bloody good he does me by banning me from my own business, Ollie makes for a fine lifestyle coach. I’ll admit that if it hadn’t been for him, his incessant texts and the brave efforts to pluck a glass from my hands, I might have lost her. Fuck, she might have hated me.

Or we might never have even met.

The house now finally knows silence.

No violent words. 

No drunk ravings going nowhere and anywhere.

True, genuine, silence.

I put the kettle on and pull the sourdough from the bread box. Bought it on our last trip abroad, to Amsterdam. It’s one of the things in this house which makes it ours because I used to plonk bread in a zipper bag and toss it on the counter. Not anymore. It goes in the box.

The mixed fruit blend I used for the dough we recently bought at Borough Market. Y/N was staring at it with a tender look on her face.

“Those special, love?” I hugged her from behind, my head on her shoulder. That morning, she had washed her hair and granted me the intense honour of brushing it. A smile grew on her lips in tandem with mine as I worked the brush through her strands. Nonetheless, while I was flattered and delighted beyond imagination, for being thus allowed in her space is a rare gift every man should know how to appreciate properly, she was amused with my attitude. But it’s alright. I don’t mind her laughing at me. 

Eyes closed, I drank in her presence. The sounds of the food stalls and crowd faded into a background hum, each sense overtaken by her frame in my arms and the scent of Argan oil and Shea butter in my nose. In that single moment, I didn’t have to think, to scheme. Just be.

With her, I can just be.

And I like that, makes me love her all the more.

Y/N regularly gives me an earful, but there are times when I truly listen and not only enjoy the sound of her voice. So when she gave me a piece of her story, I immediately snapped out of my reverie. “Nan used a blend of these when making brack.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of bread with sultanas and raisins. Officially, that is. But she added currants and other dried fruits when we had it and it wasn’t Samhain.”

“Tell me about the tradition. What does bread ‘ave to do with it?”

“We’d put items in the brack. A pea, a stick, a piece of cloth, a small coin, a ring, and a bean. Each of these items had a special meaning, applicable to the person who got them.”

“Which were?”

Occasionally, right, I enjoy teasing her because I adore the way her frown naturally flows into a bright smile as her distrust melts away. However, the calculating coldness in her stare even gave me the chills. Terrible, it was, and I don’t say that lightly. “Alfie, where’s this coming from? I thought you hated the Irish.”

I thought you hated me.

She didn’t say it, but the words were there, precariously dancing on the tip of her tongue. The shopkeeper gave me a warning look, ready to beat me with her cane if I didn’t watch my mouth.

“It’s your culture, innit, love?’’ I said, quick to placate both women lest we had more than a simple situation on our hands. Moreover, dangerous as it normally is, curiosity genuinely got the better of me. There’s little I know of her previous life so I am overjoyed when my Irish queen, obviously unintentionally, indulges me like this. ‘‘I know the past hurts you, but this clearly means a lot to you. Your Nan’s obviously important to you too.”

“She practically raised me. Didn’t want me involved in politics, give me a normal life. Well, for as far as that’s possible when…” she froze in my embrace, paler than a ghost at midnight in Highgate. Bit by bit, I could feel her fade in the chaos she had kept firmly under lock and key. We’re rather alike in that, keeping the mess in our fucked up noggins hidden until we choose to open up.

Or come across a trigger. 

I scanned the surroundings for hers. Men conversing as they’re hauling boxes. Tourists and locals squeezing together as they navigate the narrow spaces between the stalls, leaving no room to breathe without doing so down someone’s neck. The sizzling of oil on a hot surface.

Like a lit fuse.

“When…” She flinched when one of the other shopkeepers dropped a couple of crates.

I remember how my heart dropped into my stomach as her knees gave way. Her nails dug into my skin as I gently coaxed her to the ground, though she relaxed her grip a bit as a vague inkling of recognition made her realise it was me holding her. “Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me? It’s Alfie, your boyfriend. You’re in London. Safe. There ain’t no guns ‘ere. Just a couple crates. Just crates. That’s all.” 

I glared at the bastard who reduced my queen to a shivering husk of herself, breathing way too fast as the current of grim things swooped her along. Once he noticed I was looking at him, he quickly scurried to the back. After cursing him under my breath, I held her tight against my chest, cradled her lovely head and the funny mind in it as I gently rocked back and forth like me mum used to do when I was a child. “No guns. No bullets. No fighting. Just us, dove.”

For a few moments we sat like that on the cold paving stones. The shopkeeper fetched Y/N a glass of water which she managed to make her drink. Perhaps it’s only because the subconscious ego of my Irish queen saw her Nan in the woman. Do not misunderstand, right, I was grateful for her kindness. Nonetheless, what Y/N needed was space, fresh air. So I picked her up and carried her bridal-style to the central seating area. One day, I hope to carry her the same way across the threshold of our home.

Colour began to return to her face the longer we sat on a bench removed from everyone in a quieter area of the market. With each passing minute, I saw the demons causing those awful vacant eyes and suffocating her with every breath leave her body. The best I could do was wait and do my damn best to not let my own fear and impatience get the better of me. After all, I was not a god at that moment.

Only a man praying for the better. 

A man overjoyed when an angel gave her back her voice.

“My brothers were killed in shootings.” Slowly, Y/N sought my gaze. She blinked a few times like she woke up a second ago and did not really know whether she was still dreaming or awake. “Cillian was shot in March. Seàn the month after. They rather died than be tried by law.”

It was easier to phrase it as such than tell the truth.

They killed themselves.

Died for the ideal that had left her with a broken family. Although, perhaps it’s better to say she never had a family to begin with.

“And the man who I was meant to marry to get our family higher up the ranks, Patrick McHugh, a man I loathed, was ready to shoot me when the Gardaí had us cornered during a car bomb attack. We were meant to go on a date, so he told me, but… we stopped in the street. Alfie, he- he-’’ I put my arm around her shoulders, pulled her against me, and rested my head on hers. She didn’t owe me an explanation for her behaviour, but before I could tell her it was alright to stop, she continued. “He took me hostage. Was ready to burn me alive with him.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to-”

“Rory turned on him. His second in command, the only person he trusted. I pulled Patrick’s gun in the same moment I freed myself from his grip. Shot him in the head. In cold blood.” She bit her lip to fight the ugly sob which made her shoulders heave. “I have blood on my hands, don’t you see? Rory didn’t make it either. Stayed behind after he negotiated safe passage for me. Later I heard he saved me because he loved me. Had been crushing on me for years. Never said a word, Alfie. Never.” The fight with self-control lost, Y/N’s voice cracked with the tears yet unshed. “And now he’s gone. Everyone’s gone.”

‘‘No, not everyone. I’m ‘ere and I ain’t going anywhere. You and I, yeah, we’re gonna build something fucking biblical. A ‘ome, right, in Margate. You and I. And it’s gonna be safe. No violence. I’ll even get rid of me gun if that makes you feel better.”

“No, keep it. Still, thank you.”

I pulled a tissue from my pocket to clean up her mascara, which had stained her cheeks with little black rivulets. “If there’s anything I can do to make you feel safer, you tell me, yeah? If need be, I’ll build a fucking wall that’ll put Daedalus to shame. With me own ‘ands. Anything.”

“Thank you. I think I should repay that kindness with a clean shirt.’’ She sighed as she surveyed the damage done to my clothes. ‘‘Sorry for the stains. I know you got it fresh out of the closet.”

“Nah, it’s just a shirt. No worries. But, knowing you and your bloody adorable stubbornness, you won’t let this go. So, instead of beating yourself up over nothing because you got nothing to be sorry for, yeah, can you tell me more about the bar- barm- the… thing. Bread.”

“Barmbrack. Brack, for short.”

“Barmbrack,” I repeated. “Brack. Gonna try and remember. The items in it. You said they have special meaning.”

“Right. The… pea, a stick, a piece of cloth, a small coin, a ring, and… something else.”

“A bean.”

“Yes, a bean. A future without money. Anyway, so, now, the pea meant the person would not marry that year. The stick meant they would have an unhappy marriage or continually be in disputes. Now, the cloth or rag no one wanted to find because it meant bad luck, though it was also regarded as an omen of poverty. In contrast, and perhaps very bloody obvious, the coin meant good fortune or riches were coming for the person. If you got the ring, you’d be wed within the year.”

Say what you will of the Irish, but they are bloody creative.

We went back to the stall, got a full bag of dried fruit and went on our merry way. Y/N fortunately hasn’t noticed I’ve used some of the contents for a little surprise. For once her adorable drowsy noggin in the morning comes in handy, when she’s too sleepy to notice nor doesn’t check the bag’s contents before she puts a little in her yoghurt.

The kettle goes off. The steam creates a thin layer of condensation on the tiles and warms my face when I pour the water in a mug. There’s nothing like a cup of char regardless of the time of day.

I wager they’ll be home in fifteen minutes. Until they are, I sit on the chaise longue in the living room. It’s a gorgeous thing, a real beauty we found while antique shopping in London. I had my doubts about the red velvet, but Y/N convinced me to get it regardless because “it fits the house’s aesthetic” whatever the fuck that means. It’s a sturdy piece of furniture, definitely worth every penny.

We tested it thoroughly.

Multiple times.

Nipping the gingerbread tea we bought yesterday at M&S, when I barely managed to prevent Y/N from buying three boxes on top of the three boxes of Christmas spice tea already in our basket, I watch my family. A low chuckle tickles in my throat, proud and amused. Who’d ever thought I, Alfie Solomons, the Divine King of Camden, would stop wandering, settle down, become a family man? Tommy, the self-proclaimed head of the Shelby family though they’re all bad people, would have a bubble if he heard that. 

I ain’t like him. I’d marry my wife, the lovely and downright bloody gorgeous goddess currently down on the beach, the one and only true Mrs Solomons, out of love. A love based on loyalty, right, and not out of convenience or business. No whoring when she ain’t about, no secrets, no dirty business.

No more blood on my rings.

We’d raise our children together, perhaps spoil them rotten. Y/N would chastise me for it, I already know, but I want the best for my girls. Maybe two or three, though I’m not opposed to having a son, yeah, but he’d have to be born before my princesses so he can protect them when their good old man can’t. Hopefully, one of them would like to take over the bakery, keep the business in the family. 

I might have to be on my best behaviour, be more of a father rather than a boss if I don’t want to have her tell me over dinner one night “Papa, I’m not taking over. None of us wants to, least of all Seraphina. She’s more one for painting.”

Yes, they’d be artisans in their own right. But if one of my girls wants to paint, no way she’d learn it from Arthur Shelby, who’s head is like a broken vase what is glued together badly. Nah, I wager she’d be clever enough to teach herself. All of them would be talented like their mother.

The sound of the front door opening resonates in the hallway, followed by Cyril’s happy padding, merrily trodding past me on his way to his bed in front of the hearth. We never should’ve gotten him that pillow, has made him lazy.

But how could I tell her no?

Not that she’d have listened anyway. Y/N would’ve used her own card at the till. However, being a proper gentleman, right, and maybe because I wanted to gain extra what they call ‘brownie points’, which is a stupid phrase in and of itself, a show of being too incapable to use one’s speech properly, I paid.

Y/N follows the happy bugger, head hung low and eyes cast towards the ground. Headphones in her ears.

It’s one of those days.

I step in front of her when she makes for the living room. For a moment, she stays still, like a ghost puzzled by why it can’t move forward. Nevertheless, our eyes meet for a second when my hands touch her shoulders.

“No need to wear a coat inside, is there, darling?” I doubt she hears me, my voice drowned out with the rest of the world.

Perhaps, no, no perhaps.

I am sometimes too loud for her as well.

Although she always tries to play it off afterwards, me intestines tie themselves into a pretty tight and suffocating bow tie when it happens. When the world gets to her.

When I, the real me, The Mad Baker of Camden, get to her.

From the corner of my eye, I’ve seen her flinch when disciplining my staff or stiffen when removing rude customers. I especially hate those who bother her, how they make her freeze in their presence and how she’ll avoid my touch afterwards. Breathing is an art in and of it-bloody-self when I watch her from a distance, headphones blasting music as she sits bowed over a cup of coffee which will grow cold.

Yet, when she’s ready for contact again, those earbuds leave her ears. I don’t fucking care what my men say at this point, but I rush over as fast as I can what with my me fucking leg. I can bear that pain, incomparable to what I unwillingly inflict on her or its effect on me.

Her fingers only take my palm, mapped out from a distance, if she sees no violent lines in it. Some days it trembles, those days when her breath is shivery and I feel tears roll down the good, to her trustworthy, lines as she presses them to her cheek.

Although she doesn’t know it, then again my clever little dove likely does, I’m proud of her for trying to go without headphones nowadays. Recently, it’s only one she’ll keep in, in the ear opposite of the side I’m on. Left if I’m on her right, right if I'm on her left. On really good days, those splendid days which make you wonder whether Yahweh wants to give back to humanity, she’ll go without completely. Fortunately, most of the time this doesn’t result in situations like Borough Market.

Nevertheless, today is a day she needs them.

While Y/N moves to the living room, I head to the kitchen to finish setting up the little surprise I prepared for her. By the looks of things, she needs it. It’s hypocritical, innit, that I’m doing this despite hating when it’s done to me? Still, a good man, a proper man, yeah, a proper fucking gentleman, a bloody king, will try his damned best to surprise the woman he loves whenever and however he can.

Because she deserves it.

These acts of love.

If only because words have a tendency to fail.

As mine do.

A lot.

Tray in hand, I make for the living room. Exactly as I envisioned, Y/N has curled up on the sofa, headphones in while she’s doing that funny yarn thing her Nan taught her. She’s good at it, has made me a very nice scarf and beanie for Hanukkah last year. 

Recently, after our little getaway to the Scottish Highlands, where they speak some form of English she fortunately seemed to understand, worse than the Irish except for her, she made a blanket with a deer’s head. Got inspired by our surroundings, she said. I think it’s the show she watched on her phone every night or in the car.

I put the tray on the coffee table and sit down next to her, a little distance between us. “Hard day, dove?”

“Yeah.” She glances from the slices of sweet soda bread to the glass of whiskey and then to me, her fingers expertly holding up the yarn wrapped around them. “That for me?”

I nod, trying to contain the excitement ignited by hearing her voice. One decibel too loud and I’ll lose her again. Gotta play me cards right, so I speak as evenly as I can without showing her the precarious edge I’m balancing on. “‘Cause you look awful homesick.”

“Thank you, mhuirnin.”

For a few moments I watch her nibble on a slice, vacant gaze cast towards the cold hearth. “We can go on a trip to-’’

“No.”

“Y/N, we don’t have to go to the place your people live. We can go to, fuck, I don’t know, the Republic. It’s safe there, innit? Cork? Enjoy the sea. Waterford? Dublin for an urban-’’

“Alfie, I said no.”

“It’ll do you good.”

“I left Ireland for a reason.” Finally she meets my gaze and me ticker almost sinks through the floor once those pretty eyes shimmering with tears meet mine. “The whole fucking island. Don’t make me return.”

“Alright. We’ll go somewhere else.” I open my arms in invitation. Fortunately, it seems she’s in the mood for contact with me. Face buried in my sweater, her small fist clutching some of the fabric, I wrap her up on my arms. “Or nowhere. We can stay ‘ere.”

As an answer I’m given muffled mumbling, worse than me own.

“What was that?”

“Hotel night.”

“Where?”

“Don’t know. London?”

“We already know the town well. What about the Lake District, hm? Nice and quiet. Lots of green. We can rent a cottage or a nice B&B. Cyril would like it too, right, lots of places to explore. Makes for nice walks, yeah.”

As in agreement, Cyril lets out an excited though low bark, sensitive to what she gets like when her mood’s as it is now.

“See?” I say, pulling her a bit closer. “‘E likes the idea.”

In acknowledgement of our shared sentiments, she hums.

“We’ll figure it out later. For now, ‘ave another slice, drink some whiskey, crochet. But lean on me, eh? Lean on Papa Solomons.”

She grabs another piece of bread and starts nibbling on it, occasionally nipping on her glass.

For a while we sit in silence as she crochets and I simply watch her eat, occasionally shutting my eyes to drink in the moment.

Until my plan comes to fruition.

Feigning innocence, I lift an eyebrow when Y/N pulls a difficult face and spits something into her hand.

She once told me that according to Celtic philosophy, all things come in three.

Third slice of bread.

A ring, of course not the one I mean to present to her properly.

Her head snaps up at me, so fast I’m both glad and impressed she hasn’t broken a vertebrae.

“Yeah, this ain’t a joke.” I kiss her forehead. “Within the year.”

On a better day.

[ellephlox]

Deprivation

Summary: Matt thinks you can't go sixty hours without sleep. You think otherwise.

Pairing: Matt x f!reader

Warnings: Choking, sleep deprivation, some profanity, accidental cut with knife on hand, intimacy

Matt, you quickly learned, was the smartest man you knew, except in one regard: he had absolutely no clue of what it meant to have a damn sleep schedule.

To be fair, this was to be expected. He was a lawyer, and had his little double identity, so of course he wasn't going to get a full eight hours every night.

But sometimes he'd be back from his vigilante activities, and didn't even have any court cases to prepare for, and yet you'd wake up to find him out in the living room listening to the city. So you would go out to him, wrapping your arms around yourself because it was cold when you didn't have his body heat warming you up, and try to coerce him to come back to bed. And he'd always oblige, following you back into bed, but even then you knew he was lying awake, staring at the ceiling. It wasn't insomnia, he had told you. He just liked to stay awake. He liked listening to his city.

That was something you could respect. But when it got to the point that he was only getting a few hours of shut-eye each night, and Foggy reported to you that Matt was getting really tired at work — well, that was just another way that he self-sabotaged.

"It's probably not very good for you," you told him, as gently as possible, on a Friday afternoon when he'd gotten out of the office early. "Not getting enough sleep can lead to all sorts of health issues down the road — both mental and physical."

Matt had the audacity to smirk at that. "Don't worry. I've got bigger things to worry about."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Besides, if I have to lose an hour of sleep, it's worth it if it means I can save someone's life."

"You don't have to be Superman, Matt. You're human. You have needs, too. How about I start matching my sleep schedule to yours? How would you feel about it then?"

"We have different sleep needs," he said simply.

You narrowed your eyes. "What is that supposed to mean? 'Different sleep needs?' What are you implying, that I couldn't do it?"

"I'm saying that just because my sleep schedule seems impossible to you, it's not the end of the world to me."

"I never said it was impossible. I just don't like seeing how little sleep you get," you said obstinately. "I could deal with no sleep just fine." Which, really, was an unsubstantiated claim, but it wasn't as though there was any reason to believe that you wouldn't do just fine.

"I'd beg to differ."

"My sleep needs are beside the point," you said mulishly, wrapping your arms around him. "But here's my final say. You should start getting an average of six hours of sleep a night, at least — averaged out over the course of every two weeks — without argument. Okay?"

Matt raised his eyebrows. "That's a steep request. No incentives? No bribery? Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because I'm the love of your life and you want to make me happy by getting more sleep?"

"Yes to the first part, no to the second. Sorry, sweetheart."

"Please?"

"Hm. I'm reconsidering." Matt planted a kiss on your forehead. "And the answer is no. Unless..." He pulled back, his eyebrows drawn in. "You think you can 'deal with no sleep just fine', you said?"

"Sure. Mind over matter."

"I'll make a proposal for you," he said. "If you can go sixty hours without sleep, then I'll make an effort to do your at-least-six-hours-a-night suggestion."

A grin broke across your face. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly serious."

"Because I'm going to win, Matt. Like I said, mind over matter."

"Sixty hours is a lot harder than you'd think, Y/N."

"It'll be a piece of cake, considering what's on the line," you said, checking the time. "Okay. It's four in the afternoon right now. I woke up at six this morning, thanks to the work I had to get done for my boss. So sixty hours from when I woke up this morning would be... six in the evening on Sunday. Friday morning to Sunday evening, then? Easy. You are going to be eating your words, Murdock."

His own smile was wicked. "You'll be wanting to cave after thirty-six hours."

"Ha. Unlikely." You held out your hand. "So it's a deal, then?"

Matt shook your hand firmly, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Nighttime arrived quickly. Usually, when Matt started suiting up to head out for the night, you'd be getting ready for your shower and brushing your teeth.

Tonight, you had other plans.

"What do you think you're doing?" Matt said sharply, coming into the bedroom as he straightened his cowl. You glanced over him, admiring the Daredevil suit. Seriously, how did all the people he saved every night not just fall in love with him?

"I'm getting dressed," you said innocently. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes. You're putting on your thicker coat, the one you wear only when you plan on being outside for awhile."

"Going outside is a crime now?"

"Y/N, it's nine at night. It's pitch black outside. I don't want you getting kidnapped, or mugged, or—"

"It's okay. I'm just going to the movie theatre."

"The movie theatre," he repeated.

"Yeah. While you're being a vigilante, I'm going to go watch a film. Because I've still got forty-eight-ish hours of staying awake and I intend to enjoy that time."

Matt's frown deepened. "Are you taking a taxi?"

"The theatre's only a few blocks away," you said, knowing exactly how he'd react.

"I'll follow you, then, to make sure you get there safely," he decided. "What time does the movie end?"

"I haven't decided what I'm watching yet, so I'm not sure. But I promise I'll text your burner, okay? I won't be reckless."

Once Matt was satisfied that you weren't going to go anywhere aside from the theatre ("There's been a human trafficking ring going on around here lately, and I'm not taking any chances with you wandering around"), you started your trek to the movies, appreciating the dark figure tailing you along the rooftops and blowing him a kiss before you entered the theatre.

The rest of the night passed more quickly than you expected. You finally got home close to midnight, after walking back with Matt, who stayed on the sidewalks with you since the streets were empty. Once you got back to the apartment, you did some reading until Matt returned, plowing through two books on your to-read list.

"Getting tired?" Matt asked when he came in, stripping off his cowl. It was one of the rare nights that he didn't have any blood on him, so you ran up and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his middle.

"I could run a marathon right now," you said. "You, on the other hand, can go to bed. Get some rest."

"If you're staying up, then I'm staying up."

"The deal was for me to stay up sixty straight hours, Matt. Not you. In fact, the whole point of this is to have you get more sleep. Go to bed, really."

"If I fall asleep, then I won't know if you lose the bet and fall asleep," he objected.

You rolled your eyes. "Good thing you're a human lie detector, Matt. You can ask me tomorrow whether I've slept or not."

You had pulled all-nighters before, but never without even a ten minute reprieve of a nap. It did start to get exhausting, and you were feeling punch-drunk by the time dawn rolled around. Matt didn't sleep in — in fact, he was up just a bit after dawn — and you fought to hide anything that might indicate to him that, in fact, you were already feeling tired enough that you wanted to just crash on the couch and sleep for ten hours.

"Good morning." Matt entered the living room, where you were getting through your third book. Your eyes felt dry and heavy, so you blinked a few times, trying to sweep away the weariness.

"Good morning," you said, with much more energy in your voice than what you felt inside.

"Did you fall asleep at all last night?"

"Nope," you said blithely, and Matt's nod confirmed the truth to your statement. "Twenty-four hours of sixty are complete."

"You're not even halfway there. Feel like giving up?"

"That's insulting that you'd even ask me that." You sipped at your water. "So, lazy Saturday today?"

"Not quite," Matt said, looking altogether suspiciously pleased with himself. "I meant to tell you — we have a busy day, actually. I signed us up to volunteer at a civil rights event this morning. We'll be collecting money and signing people in — I'll type names into the system, you take care of the money. If that's alright with you, of course."

It wasn't like Matt to forget to tell you about something like this, let alone not ask you in the first place if it was something you were up to doing. You chewed your lip. "Yeah, no problem."

"Then Foggy's invited us to lunch with him and Karen. We're supposed to meet up at a café a few blocks away then go for a walk to check out the new museum that's down in Chelsea. Oh, and last night I overheard some details about that human trafficking ring, so I was hoping we could do some research this evening and look into some names that might be involved."

"Is that all?" you asked, feeling a sinking feeling in your stomach at the prospect of everything Matt had listed.

"Well," he said, taking his hand to toy with your hair. "I thought tonight would be perfect for cleaning out the kitchen. You've been saying for awhile that we need to get into all the cupboards and dust off everything. We could do the closets, too. Might as well get it all done at once."

You scowled. "Since when are you into deep cleaning on a Saturday?"

"It seemed like the ideal day for it," he said vaguely, still looking far too satisfied with himself. Unbelievable.

You swallowed your irritation, though, and feigned optimism. "Sounds good to me."

"Really? It won't be too busy of a day? Because I know you didn't get any sleep last night." This last bit was pointed, and you struggled to keep up your facade.

"Not too busy at all," you said, patting his thigh twice and standing up to stretch. "It sounds perfect."

Matt's smile widened. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not," you insisted, heading to the bathroom to get ready. Shit, I'm tired. One glance into the bedroom, at the blankets still unmade, and it was difficult to not cave right there and crawl under the covers. "I'm going to win this, Matt. Try to overwork me all you want, because I'm still going to beat you."

His grin only broadened.

As the day went on, it got more and more difficult. You found yourself feeling lightheaded, as though your thoughts were hovering slightly outside of your head, and you kept losing your train of thought. Keeping up with the conversation with Foggy and Karen took so much energy that you found yourself blinking heavily in the museum, trying to avoid looking at the oh-so-comfy padded benches along the walls that looked just fantastic for grabbing a quick twenty-minute nap. You must've started looking pretty tired, because even Foggy noticed.

"You alright, Y/N?" he asked, slowing his pace to walk beside you.

"I'm fine. Totally fine. Why?" you said, shaking off the tendrils of sleep that were playing with your eyelids.

Foggy gave you a look. "You and Matt both suck at lying when it comes to convincing me that you're 'fine.' What's going on?"

You had no choice but to explain the bet to Karen and Foggy, both of whom, to your annoyance, leaned towards Matt's side, insisting that there was no way you could make it until Sunday evening.

"You're all underestimating me," you said, lightening your footsteps to appear more buoyant and vivacious. "Just because I'm tired doesn't mean I'll lose."

Matt, in all his smug glory, had the audacity to turn around, lowering the museum-issued phone that provided audio descriptions of each painting. "You're admitting that you're tired? If you want, we can head home and you can take a nap."

"Enough from the peanut gallery, Murdock," you said.

Matt tapped the side of his white cane playfully on your leg. "Just looking out for your wellbeing, dearest."

"You can take your looking out and shove it up your—"

"Coffee!" Foggy said triumphantly, pointing to the museum café. "Just because I think you're going to lose, Y/N, doesn't mean I want you to lose. Come on, let's pump some caffeine into you."

"Nope." You shook your head. "I'm going to do this au naturale."

"Did Matt make a clause saying you couldn't?" Karen's arms were crossed. "Because if so, he's just being too much of a lawyer—"

"He didn't. But I want to do it alone without any support. Not even from coffee," you said.

Still, Matt looked too confident. It unnerved you.

You had to fight to get through the rest of the day. While researching the names Matt had overheard, you kept finding your hand slipping as your eyes fell, and then you'd jar upright and try to focus your eyes on the paper in front of you.

The fourth time it happened, Matt's hand appeared on your back. "You can always take a rest if you need one."

"I don't need to sleep. I'm good."

"I never said sleep. I just said rest. Unless you think you'd fall asleep if you took a rest?"

You shoved his hand away. "You have such little faith in me."

"I can hear every single time your eyes slip," he said. "Your heart rate is really slowing down."

You shook your head violently. "Nope. See? Look." Jumping up, you bounced on your feet a bit, shaking yourself awake. "Heart rate is soaring."

"Great. Then we could start on the cleaning, if you want."

Right. You'd forgotten about the little bout of cleaning he had felt so remarkably inspired to do. "Sounds wonderful."

You started on the drawers, pulling out all of the utensils and miscellaneous tchotchkes that crowded the space. Inside were plastic spoons and forks that had been amassed over the past few months, disposable chopsticks, and a set of nice chef's knives that you used to chop vegetables. In the back you found the old knife sharpener, which you hadn't seen in a good year or so.

The knives could be sharpened. Or were they still sharp enough? You remembered there were one or two knives that were far too dull to cut the sweet potatoes and carrots the last time you cooked, but you couldn't remember which two knives. Carefully you picked up each knife, one-by-one, and pressed it gently against your thumb to test how sharp it was.

The intention was to do it without actually slicing your thumb open. But you picked up a knife that you thought was dull, applied a bit too much pressure, and immediately a thin red line of blood appeared on the pad of your thumb.

"Ow," you muttered, reaching for a paper towel to absorb the blood.

Matt emerged from the closet almost immediately, concern creasing his forehead. You had to stifle a laugh as you imagined him going to blood like a moth being attracted to light.

"You alright?" he asked, taking your hand and examining it. "I wasn't listening — what happened?"

"Nothing. I just was testing the sharpness of the blades."

Matt gave you an incredulous look. "On your own hand?"

"I didn't mean to actually cut my thumb!" you protested. "I just... I don't know! It was a dumb decision. Not my proudest moment. Or... I guess I'm just not the sharpest knife in the drawer." You snorted at your own joke.

Matt didn't smile. "How about I take over with the knives?"

"Come on. Not even a smile? That was a really good pun."

"If you weren't so tired, I doubt you'd find it funny."

"Mm. Maybe." You went to the fridge. "I'll start cleaning this out."

Matt acquiesced, and he started sharpening all of the knives after pointedly handing you a Band-Aid for your cut. You worked together in relative silence to finish cleaning the kitchen. You hit a second wind and didn't feel too tired while you were working, especially once you put on a podcast for the two of you to listen to as you cleaned.

But that changed once you finished. Matt settled on the couch, stretched out in a nearly horizontal position, and gestured for you to lie on top of him. You wedged yourself in so that you were half on top of him, and half squished between him and the back of the couch, and rested your head on his chest.

"Are you going out tonight?" you asked. Matt stroked your hair, running his fingers down and against the nape of your neck.

"I'm taking a night off," he said. "I thought we could put on a movie."

You lifted your eyes to his face. "What? I thought you were doing all you could to make today as exhausting as possible for me."

"I thought a movie would be nice."

"I don't trust you, Murdock." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Here's my hypothesis. You made today as tiring as possible so that now, when you're suggesting a lovely, calming activity, I'll fall asleep, and then you won't have to hold up your end of the deal."

"I would never be so malicious as to do that."

"For some reason, I just don't believe you." You snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm, feeling far too warm and comfortable. "I won't fall asleep."

His hand moved from your neck to your back. "Okay."

It was nice that he wasn't going out to do his other job tonight, at least. It wasn't often that he took a night off. It was impossible to not stress whenever he was out, and having just one night when you knew he'd be safe and sound was relieving. At least he had the red suit now. You weren't sure how he wasn't dead, considering the number of times he'd gone out with nothing but the black mask, which offered about as much protection as if he'd simply gone out naked.

Plus, now he had backup that he could call, if he needed help. Frank Castle, as gruff and hostile as he was — and as bloodthirsty as he was — for some reason held a soft spot when it came to Matt, and he could be counted on if things got sticky. Then there was Jessica, who had every bit as apathetic an exterior as Frank did, but she too could be trusted with Matt's life. Luke and Danny you were less familiar with but you would have counted on them in any pinch, too. Plus, you'd tried to convince Matt that the Avengers would take him in as part of the team, but he had flat-out refused. You liked the idea of Matt joining the Avengers. Missions, getting credit for the people he saved, having an opportunity to do fancy galas and dinners with people like Thor, or Falcon, or...

You jolted upright. "I'm not asleep!"

Matt's hand stopped on your back. "Your eyes were shut. And your heart was slowing significantly. I think that counts as sleeping."

"No, it doesn't!" you argued, sitting up. "Sleeping has to be at least a few minutes."

"According to what law?"

"I wasn't asleep, Matt." You glared at him. "And that's not fair! You were trying to get me to fall asleep!"

"I didn't violate any rules." He pulled you in again. "Just... lay here a couple more minutes."

You struggled out of his grip. "I'm not risking it. That was too close. I'm going to bake cookies."

"Cookies?"

"To celebrate my victory when I survive the next twenty-four hours without falling asleep. I'm over two thirds done, Matt — it's been almost forty hours. I can do the last stretch."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

You ignored him and got to your feet, pausing slightly to knead your hands into your temples and wake yourself up more. Matt followed you into the kitchen, and you could tell he was amused. His head turned slightly at every single one of your movements, tracking you perfectly so that you imagined he had a sharp image in his mind of what you were doing.

Baking helped. You moved almost robotically, following the instructions from the recipe of an old cookbook you'd had for years.

"That's salt, sweetie."

You blinked and looked at what you were doing. You had the 1/2 cup in your hand, full of...

Salt. Not sugar.

You dumped the salt away and scooped the sugar instead. "Thanks," you said. "Stupid mistake. Did you hear or smell it?"

"Smelled."

When it came time to beat the dough, you plugged in the stand mixer and then leaned against the counter. The rhythmic whirring of the machine was like a massage on your head.

You didn't even realize that your eyes had closed until you were tilting forward, jarring up as you did so to catch yourself on the counter. Matt had already lunged forward to grab you, and he didn't wait for your excuses, taking you by the shoulders and steering you to the couch.

"I need to finish the cookies," you objected. "Matt, I caught myself in time, it was just a stupid little moment—"

"Look, I can appreciate that we had a bet going, but maybe this isn't the best idea." Matt's eyes, despite not making contact with your own, were scanning your face beseechingly. "Sleep deprivation can cause worse than brain fog and micro-sleeps. It can affect your immune system, make you hallucinate, increase anxiety—"

"All temporary," you insisted, but he was right; you could feel an indescribable sense of stress curdling in your chest, and your hands were trembling slightly. All of your movements felt as though they were in slow-motion, like your brain had been frozen and sensory input had to go through slowly.

Matt finished making the cookies. Somehow, you stayed awake while on the couch, but your head kept rolling forward without you meaning for it to happen — it was a vicious cycle of your head tipping forward far enough that you'd snap back up and shake your head a few times. Get it together. This is important, stay awake.

And, just like that — in the span of a few seconds — you found yourself snapping up again as your head fell forward.

"Y/N—" Matt began, but you cut him off.

"Shut up," you said amicably. "I know you know my head's rolling around. But I'm in this to win."

He only sighed.

You managed to pass the next two hours without a peep from Matt, who nevertheless kept turning his head towards you every time that you blinked even slightly longer than normal, as though to say, I hear you and you're not fooling anyone.

You ignored him as much as you could. Browsing on your laptop, you discovered, was a good way of keeping awake, probably because of the light from the screen, so you took the time to clean out your photos and drive. Matt did end up leaving briefly for a ten-minute jaunt down to the street, where he could apparently hear a man trying to rob a teenager, so you had the pleasure of watching him in action as Daredevil from the window. He'd gotten such a reputation in Hell's Kitchen at this point that he didn't even need the suit this time, let alone any fists. Merely walking menacingly, with the black mask tied around his head, was enough to make the robber flee in the other direction. You smiled to yourself, watching as Matt gently put a hand on the shoulder of the teen — presumably asking if he was alright.

1am.

2am.

3am.

Matt had fallen asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling gently. You didn't dare move for fear of waking him up.

4am.

5am.

The sun rose. The city woke up; chatter resumed on the streets, cars roared past.

8am. Ten hours to go. You glanced at the clock and yawned, listening appreciatively to the background clatter as Matt prepared breakfast. And then you glanced back at the clock.

It was swaying, back and forth, as though it were on a ship. You squinted at it, frowning. Sometimes the light from the bill board outside could throw the appearance of objects in the apartments and give them odd shadows. But, no, the clock was certainly swaying.

The strangest part was that nothing else in the apartment seemed to be moving. You checked, leveling your gaze at the flowers sitting on the table. But they were perfectly still. When you turned to the clock again, it was no longer moving.

You straightened, your heart beginning to beat faster. Something felt off.

And then, a man moved, his head ducking just out of sight behind the sliding door to the bedroom. You leapt to your feet just as a pot clanged behind you.

"What's wrong?" Matt was at your side, his eyebrows drawn together. "Your heart's racing—"

"There's a man in there!"

"In where?"

"The bedroom!" It seemed impossible to you that Matt didn't know what you were talking about. You'd seen the movement, it was there; someone was standing just inside the bedroom.

"There's no one in there," he said, slowly.

"I'll check, then." You marched forward, and it was a testament to Matt's confidence that no one was there that he didn't try to stop you but instead stood still as you peered into the room.

As he had said: no one was in there. Confusedly you glanced around, and even started to get on your knees to look under the bed, but then it occurred to you.

I'm seeing things. I must be seeing things, that has to be it. Matt had said sleep deprivation could do that, didn't he?

Your cheeks were hot as you came out of the bedroom to rejoin him by the couch. "Sorry. I thought I saw something," you said, as casually as possible. "Must have been the sunlight coming out from behind a cloud."

You didn't really expect Matt to buy your bullshit, and you were right. He snorted, and without warning, his hands were pressed against your shoulders, strong enough that you toppled backwards onto the couch. He leaned over you, settling with his knee against your chest as he straddled your waist.

You yelped. "What are you doing?"

"Pinning you here. Keeping you horizontal until you fall asleep." He ran his fingers over his watch. "It's early. I've got all day to wait here until you do."

"Matt!"

"Game over, Y/N. You need to get some sleep. And this isn't even about me not wanting to lose the bet anymore. I'm worried about you."

"Ha. I'll be fine. One little sleep and I'll be good as new. But in the meantime, I am not going to let you win just like that."

"If it's easier, I could just... take matters into my own hands." His fingers went to your throat, squeezing gently. Goosebumps prickled up your arms as his hands brushed under your jaw, flexing ever so slightly as though any second they would close and cut off your air flow. Despite the current weight of your eyelids, Matt's fingertips dancing over your neck was enough to make your heart start pumping.

You tipped your head back slightly. "You're going to choke me, but not in your suit? I must say, I'm disappointed."

Matt smirked. "Never said I was going to. I only threatened to."

"Oh." You could feel heat rising into your cheeks slightly. Really eloquent, absolutely articulate, way to use your words, Y/N—

"Either way, sweetheart," Matt continued, "You're not getting up from this couch anytime soon."

"Well, I assumed as much," you said, squirming slightly, but there was no getting Matt off of you. Unless you tickled him, maybe. You'd never tried that before. Was he ticklish? You reached up swiftly with your right hand, but got no closer than a foot away. His own hand snatched your wrist and, with ease, pinned that to the couch as well. Uselessly you wriggled under him, like a damn fish on a dock, but he had you down and there was no escaping him.

It didn't help that exhaustion was making you ramble more than usual. "So this is what it's like," you said, gazing up at Matt.

"What?"

"This is what it's like," you repeated. "I've always wondered how it feels to be some lowly criminal, lying on the dirty sidewalk and staring up at Daredevil as he looms over me."

Matt laughed. "Not quite. Typically I don't do this to criminals." And he leaned down, his lips meeting yours. You lifted your head to meet him, and then flopped back down, smiling.

"How do they not get transfixed by you?" you said. "I mean, seriously, if I were a criminal, I'd probably freeze on the spot if I saw you and then beg for you to be my paramour."

"Your paramour?"

"Mm. Paramour. Or courter. Wooer. My beau. I would say to you, 'I'm repenting, dear Daredevil! Spare me and take me into your arms!' Then we'd gallop away into the sunset together." You felt drunk; the words were spilling out of you before you knew what you were saying.

"I think you're just a tad overtired, sweetheart."

You snuggled in closer to him. "Tell me something."

"What do you want to hear?"

"I don't know. Maybe one of the bad guys you've fought recently. I want all the details — who it was, how you found them, what you did, what they did, and how you won."

Matt didn't question the request. He paused for a minute, maybe two, as he likely thought about it, and then he started talking, his voice low and warm. The sun was streaming across you and the smell of oatmeal cooking on the stove wafted in. You listened to him, at first, but then the words became a meaningless jumble, and then...

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Until there was a scraping sound. Then a chopping sound. More scraping, then a sizzle. The smell of onions was potent and it made your mouth water.

You sat up slowly, trying to process what was happening. "You're putting onions in the oatmeal?"

There was the sound of the knife being put down, and then Matt came in from the kitchen. "Sorry. Oatmeal got finished hours ago."

Your mouth drifted open. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What time is it?"

"Eight."

"A.M.?" you asked, knowing perfectly well as soon as you glanced to the window that it was far too dark to be eight in the morning. You didn't wait for him to answer. "Nope. It's P.M., isn't it? I slept the whole day?"

"You did. And I officially won the bet."

You groaned, standing up to stretch. "And now the entire Sunday is gone. Damn. I really thought I'd win." You remembered how you'd fallen asleep, on the couch with Matt on top of you. "Although you manipulated me. I don't think it counts."

"You fell asleep," he countered. "That was the only condition of the bet — you were supposed to not fall asleep in order to win."

"But without any influence from others! I didn't drink any coffee to aid myself, so it's not fair that you decided to obstruct me! I declare a red card, Murdock. We're going to redo this bet next weekend."

"Really? You want to go through all of that again?"

You considered it. The smell of onions was distracting. "Well, maybe not," you grumbled, coming up next to him to examine what he was making. "But if I didn't win the bet, then nor did you. We both lost, okay?"

And, maybe he was humoring you, but he shook your hand formally, as though you had completed a deal again.

It was a loss, of sorts, you reflected, but ultimately, nothing could be a loss, so long as you were with him.

[sequinsmile-x]

Achene

It felt almost cruel that the world carried on, as if hers hadn’t shifted with the loss of a baby she never got to meet.

Emily and Aaron try to move forward together.

-x-

Hi friends,

My insomnia is back in full swing, which means the hurt/comfort is also back in full swing.

Couldn't say where the idea for this one came from, but it wouldn't leave me alone and writing it kept me from accidentally napping on the couch after work and making my sleep pattern even worse.

As always, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.8k

Warning: Miscarriage

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

When he wakes up alone, he knows where he’ll find her. 

It was a pattern they’d fallen into over the last couple of weeks. Usually, he’d be the one who woke up first, Emily’s face still pressed into his chest, a tiny patch of drool on his shirt underneath her open mouth. He’d always wake her gently, running his hand up and down her back in a way he had done on their first night together, a habit that had carried them through from boyfriend and girlfriend, to fiances to now husband and wife. He liked it, enjoyed the predictability of how much she hated the mornings and waking up, the way she’d grumble as she slowly opened her eyes, never quite able to fight a smile as their eyes met. 

The last two weeks had been different. She’d woken up before him every morning, the sheets on her side already cool to the touch. It made him worry she was barely sleeping, if she was sleeping at all, and it only added to the concern already pooling deep in his gut, seeds that had been planted days ago blooming and taking up all the space in his chest. He blows out a steady breath and stands up, rolling his neck as he steps towards the ensuite, the light streaming out from under the door confirming what he already knew.

He doesn’t say anything as he steps into the room. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his chest, giving his wife the lead in how they move forward. It was a grim pattern they’d fallen into, one he didn’t know how to get out of, and it broke his heart. 

“It’s already fading,” she says, the only indication she’d noticed him walking into the room. She turns to look at him, a positive pregnancy test in her hand, a tight forced smile on her face, “I have to tilt it in a certain way to see the result now,” she clenches her teeth and sighs, shaking her head at herself as she places the test back in the draw she had taken to keeping it in, “Soon there won’t be anything…” 

She trails off, but he already knows what she’s going to say, and he steps forward, his hands on her hips as he tugs her into a hug. She wraps her arms around him tightly, her hands in fists in the back of his shirt as she buries her face in his neck, anchoring herself to him as if he was the only thing keeping her upright. 

They’d been trying. Meticulously planning to have a baby that they’d both wanted for a long time. There was a box of ovulation tests in the cabinet that Emily started her days with to keep track, and a thermometer in her nightstand that she used to track her basal body temperature. It was something they’d wanted desperately, and when after a few months they got a positive result from a pregnancy test Emily had taken because she felt a little off they were overjoyed. Aaron had run into the bathroom the moment he heard her crying through the door, ready to comfort her but she’d beamed at him, the very same test he’d just found her holding clutched in her hand. 

Their joy was short-lived. 

The scan Emily had excitedly scheduled that morning, the only one they ended up having for that pregnancy revealed two things. Emily had been a week further along than she’d calculated, closer to 9 weeks than the 8 she’d estimated, and there was no heartbeat. The air had been sucked out of the room when the doctor told them, Emily’s hand slack in his as she nodded along when she was given instructions on what came next. It was a conversation she’d had once before in wildly different circumstances when she was a child herself. 

When they made it home from the hospital she’d finally broken down, cried the tears she refused to shed in front of anyone other than him. She’d deleted the app on her phone that was tracking her cycles, the one she’d only just switched to ‘pregnant’ mode, and tearfully told him the fruit for 9 weeks, a gimmick they’d both unexpectedly loved, would have been a strawberry. 

The pregnancy test was the only evidence they had that the baby had existed, and watching it slowly fade was devastating, another type of loss he hadn’t anticipated. 

“We should get ready for work,” she mutters against him, not loosening her grip, and he sighs, taking a moment to press a kiss to the top of her head before he pulls back, his hands on her lower back as he smiles encouragingly at her. 

She hadn’t been back to work since the miscarriage, but today was supposed to be her first day back. None of the team knew what had happened, something Emily had been insistent on, and they thought she’d been sick with the flu. The lie had worked, and it also gave them a good reason why Aaron wasn’t currently going away on cases. Whilst the reason their friends had for her absence wasn’t true, his desire not to leave her alone was. 

“You don’t have to go back today if you don’t feel ready for it,” he says, reaching up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, “The boss has a bit of a thing for you so I think you’d get away with more time off.” 

She chuckles sadly and turns her head to kiss his palm, pressing her grateful love into his skin, “I do have to go back,” she says softly, reaching for his hand and linking their fingers together, “I can’t just keep sitting here thinking about everything that could have been,” she shrugs half-heartedly, “Plus, I’m not sure how much longer the others will buy the flu excuse.” 

He nods and runs his hand up and down her back, “If you want to come home at any time-”

“I just have to tell you,” she says, leaning forward to stamp her lips against his, “Thank you. For being…well you I guess.” 

He pulls her into a hug and kisses the side of her head, “You never have to thank me for loving you, sweetheart.” 

___

She feels tired in just about every possible way. 

She’d been back at work for a couple of weeks and it felt like she’d never been away at all. The team didn’t ask many questions beyond asking if she was okay on her first day back. Life carried on much like it always had for her and Aaron. They went away on cases, they spent their weekends with Jack, they loved each other. But there were moments when she felt stuck, when the grief would be overwhelming and make her breath catch in her chest. 

It felt almost cruel that the world carried on, as if hers hadn’t shifted with the loss of a baby she never got to meet. She knew they’d try again, the doctor's soft assurances that they could at her recent appointment ringing around her head, but it didn’t help. Especially since she knew if she was still pregnant they’d be getting ready to share the news with their friends, their chosen family, and the thought of it made her ache. 

She sighs as she settles into the couch, relieved to be home after a long couple of days away. She hears Aaron’s familiar footsteps on the hardwood floor and she smiles as she looks at him, gratefully accepting the glass of red wine that he hands to her. 

“Thanks, honey,” she says softly, shifting so she’s facing him when he joins her on the couch, “It’s nice to be home.” 

He hums as he sips his wine, “You’re telling me. That mattress in that motel did a real number on my neck,” he complains. She places her wine down and puts her hand on the back of his neck, pressing her thumb and forefinger into his skin, massaging the area she knew he carried the most tension, “God that feels good.” 

She chuckles and leans in to kiss his cheek, “When we’re in bed I’ll massage your back if you want.” 

“I’d love that,” he says as he turns his head to capture her lips in a kiss and smiles into it. He’s glad to see her more like herself, the sadness that had permeated everything in recent weeks still there, but not as overwhelming as it had been. He’d missed her smile, missed the sound of her laugh, and more than anything he wanted to protect her from being hurt anymore. It’s why he suddenly feels nervous, worried that what he’d been planning for a few weeks might set her back. He decides to go ahead anyway and he blows out a slow breath before he reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket, “I got you something.” 

She smiles curiously at him and tilts her head as he pulls a square box out of his pocket. Her curiosity suddenly turns to panic as she furrows her brows and tries to think of what the date is, if she’d somehow forgotten something important as she waded through her grief. 

“It’s not our anniversary is it?” 

He chuckles and shakes his head, reaching out and pressing the box into her hand, “No, Em. It’s not. This is just…” he doesn’t know how to say it, how to put it into words, so he clears his throat, “I think you’ll understand when you open it.” 

She hums, “Oh, that’s mysterious…”

She drifts off as she opens the box, her words caught in her chest along with her breath, making her feel like she could burst with emotions she can’t name. In the box is a necklace, a delicate silver chain with a tiny pendant on it, the detail of which, the seeds and the ridges, were only visible up close

It was a strawberry. 

She huffs out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she covers her mouth with the hand not clasping the jewellery box. She can’t do anything other than stare at the necklace, at the pendant she knows Aaron would have painstakingly chosen because of a comment she’d made the day they found out about the miscarriage. 

“I ordered it a few weeks ago,” he says, clearing his throat again, hating that he can’t read her expression, that he can’t tell what she’s thinking, “It took a little while because it was custom made. Dave gave me the name of a guy.” He adds, his smile fading as his wife still doesn’t react. Dave had made a joke, one Aaron knows he wouldn’t have made if he knew the circumstances, about Aaron enjoying the finer things in life now he had married into money. “I thought it would be good for you to have something-”

“To remember the baby by,” she says, finally finding her voice and looking up at him, tearing her gaze away from the necklace. Her chest feels hollowed out, like all the love she has for him is forcing its way up her throat, “Aaron…” 

He only feels more worried when she trails off again, her eyes shining as she trails her finger over the small pendant, and he swallows thickly, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea, I just wanted to do something to help-”

This time she cuts him off by kissing him, her lips stamped against his as she grabs his chin, holding him in place as she rests her forehead against his, the jewellery box pressed between them. 

“No, it’s perfect,” she pulls back and looks at him, chuckling wryly as tears fall onto her cheeks, “You’re perfect.” 

He smiles and wipes her tears away, his touch soft against her skin, “You want me to help you put it on?” 

She nods and passes him the box, watching intently as he carefully picks the necklace up and undoes the clasp. She turns and pulls her hair to the side and she breathes shakily as he puts the necklace around her neck, his touch gentle as he does the clasp up and adjusts the chain. She touches the strawberry pendant, holding it between her thumb and forefinger and she sighs, closing her eyes as Aaron tugs her back into his embrace until her back meets his chest. He wraps his arms tightly around her and kisses her cheek, and she rests her hands over his. 

“I love you,” she says, grateful when he ignores the shake of her voice, “So fucking much.” 

He kisses her temple and pulls her impossibly closer, “I love you too.” 

___

One Year Later

Emily hums contentedly as she rocks back and forth in the armchair, the nameless melody turning into a yawn as she looks at the time.

3.20 am

She tilts her head down to look at the three-week-old lying on her chest, his eyes wide open as he refused to fall asleep. She chuckles to herself and kisses the top of her son’s head, taking a moment to breathe him in. 

“You really do get your hate of sleep from your Daddy, sweet boy,” she says softly, kissing his head again. 

“I don’t hate sleep,” Aaron says, smiling when she turns to see him standing in the nursery doorway, “I just get up early.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, “Sounds like the same thing to me,” she says as he walks across the room and joins them, perching on the arm of the armchair, “Did we wake you up?” 

“No,” he assures her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and smiling at the sight of his youngest fighting sleep in her embrace, “I woke up and you weren’t there so I came to see how you were doing.” 

“We’re okay,” she says, turning her attention back to the baby, “We’re okay, huh? We’re just trying to get back to sleep after a diaper change and a 3 am snack.” 

Aaron watches contentedly as Emily runs her hand up and down the infant's back, lulling him to sleep against her. He wishes he could go back and tell his wife that they’d make it to this, that the clouds had parted and they’d found happiness after the storm. 

“He gets the need for a 3 am snack from you,” he says and she playfully narrows her eyes at him before she looks back down at her son. 

She strokes her fingers over his cheek, smiling as he twitches, the corner of his mouth turning up into something that resembles a smile. His eyes finally drift shut, his fight against sleep a battle he had lost, and he relaxes against her. The only thing that hadn’t relaxed was his fist, tight even in his sleep around the chain of her necklace, his little fingers next to the strawberry pendant that symbolised the loss they’d had before him. It was a complicated kind of grief, one she thinks she’ll never get used to. The acknowledgement that if she hadn’t lost that baby she wouldn’t have her son was hard to accept, a bittersweet taste left on her tongue whenever she thought about it. 

“You want me to take him?” Aaron asks quietly, drawing her from her thoughts, and she smiles and nods, taking a second to kiss her son’s forehead. 

“Mommy loves you, sweet boy,” she says, kissing him again, “I’ll see you in a little while.” 

She watches as Aaron carefully lifts the baby and carries him back towards their bedroom. She follows them, her fingers automatically reaching for her necklace, something she now wore at all times. She rubs the pendant back and forth between her finger and thumb, a movement she had found comfort in ever since Aaron had first put the necklace around her neck, and she smiles as Aaron gently lowers the baby into the bassinet, simultaneously treating the newborn like he was something precious and a bomb that could go off at any moment. He turns to smile at her once he’s done, his smile curious as he catches her staring at him. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” she says, letting go of the pendant and letting it fall back into place against her skin. She walks across the room and climbs into bed, her exhaustion returning in full force as soon as she’s under the comforter, “I just love you, thats all.” 

He smiles and gets into bed with her, tugging her against him as they settle down, both facing the direction of the bassinet where their son was sleeping, “I love you too.” 

They fall asleep in tandem, and when they are woken up just an hour later by the baby crying, they are still tangled up around each other, not sure where the other ended and where they began. 

-x-

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[vatnalilja]

Anxious Nights | Berrien Cliane

Sleepless souls take comfort in each other's company.

Short fluff. No smut. 1,265 words.

I wrote this with a feminine reader in mind, but it is gender-neutral. POV 2nd person, present tense.

Part 1 | Part 2 »

Restless, you get out of bed and wander the mansion's halls. This is a now-familiar ritual, one which you're bound to do again. Your mind often races at night, full of worry about life in your own world and what's to become of these men you've grown so fond of. Your heart aches for them since you have no easy solution to their problems. They carry so much pain—a pain so profound that it qualified them to be powerful angel hunters.

Your feet carry you to the first floor, where you flip through things in the kitchen for a while. A cup of hot herbal tea will be the perfect remedy for your insomnia. After putting the kettle on, you follow the halls to the staircase leading to Berrien's basement study. Through the cracks around the door, you can see light. He must be doing his research.

You return to the kitchen and steep enough for several cups, then return to the staircase and creep down the steps. If Berrien is in deep thought, it's impossible to interrupt him, but you prefer to be polite. You stop when you reach the bottom, your heart warming at the sight of him. He's fallen asleep on his desk with his head nestled in his arms atop his journal.

You clear away the empty teacup next to him and set down the pot, then lean your hip against his desk and admire his gentle features. Every man in the house is handsome, but Berrien has a graceful beauty unique to your two worlds. You sweep his bangs from his face and tuck a few strands of hair behind his ear.

"My Lord," he mumbles, still asleep.

This isn't new, though you were surprised when he admitted so openly he dreams of you at night and does everything he can to make you appear in those dreams. The revelation embarrassed you for a while, but the more time you spent in the mansion, the better you understood him. Besides, if you can bring him solace, you don't mind the form it takes.

After pulling another chair beside him, you sit and pluck the quill dangling in his fingers free. He stirs with a faint smile. Whatever dream he's having must be a nice one. You'd like to let him sleep, but he ought to do it in bed, not at his desk.

With your hand in his hair, you whisper his name, and he murmurs. You tuck your second hand into his and squeeze it as you caress his knuckles with your thumb. He stirs, and his soft pink eyes, obscured by long black eyelashes, drift open. He draws your hand to his face and nuzzles it.

"Berrien, you shouldn't sleep like this," you say.

"You're right, of course, but indulge me and let me stay this way for a moment longer," he says, pleasantly drowsy.

"I brought some herbal tea, but I don't think you need any," you say.

"I only need the presence of the Lord. Your hand is so warm, so calming."

"Hold it as long as you like," you say.

"I was lonely here in my study. I wanted to see your face, but . . . "

"I was asleep."

"My Lord appeared in my dreams to comfort me, and now you're here." He sits up and rests his back against his chair, still holding your hand. "I'm sorry for saying such things. I don't mean to burden you."

"Berrien."

You tug him by his hand into an embrace. He stiffens, and you feel his initial instinct to fight you, but after a beat, he relaxes into your arms with a sigh instead. His warm breath washes across your neck, tickling your skin as he leans heavily into you. You'd do anything to fill the emptiness inside him, to free him from the melancholy caused by the memories of lost comrades. He says your presence and affection help, but you can't undo all those years of loneliness in mere months. You tighten your hold on him.

"My Lord," he whispers.

"If seeing my face would make you feel better, you have my permission to let yourself in and hold my hand as I sleep," you say.

"I don't think that's appropriate—"

"I'm insisting."

"Then I can hardly argue," he says with a quiet laugh. "Let me pour that tea before it gets cold, since you went to the trouble of brewing it."

He releases you and turns his attention to the teapot. Once he finds a clean cup among his things, he wipes out his own and fills them both. He hands you the drink, and steam curls from the brim, bringing with it a grassy, lemony aroma. You relish the tea's flavor as the two of you settle into a comfortable silence.

Without asking, he retakes your free hand and closes his eyes as he drinks. Occasionally, he clutches your hand to make sure you're still there with him. The reassurance brings joy and relief to his face each time.

He breaks the silence, his eyes shining with emotion. "These are the happiest moments for me, when I can spend time with my Lord."

"You can have as much of my time as you want," you say.

"Then stay here with us as long as possible. I know I can't keep you, but . . . when you're not here, I reflect on my inadequacies. No, you don't need to hear about that." He forces a smile.

You set down your tea and grasp his other hand. "We depend on each other, Berrien. You can share things with me."

A delicate flush of pink spreads across his porcelain cheeks. "I can't help but compare myself to the other butlers and wonder if I'm worthy of serving you. I must do more to protect those I love with my own hands."

"This place would fall apart without you. Give yourself more credit."

He takes a deep breath as he weaves his fingers with yours. "I will. Please watch over me."

The moment stretches on longer than you expect, and there's something more than warm gratitude and admiration in his eyes. His hands twitch as his hold on you tightens. It's easy to see he wants more. He's a man like any other, regardless of how many years he's been alive, but as long as there are angels in this world, he will constrain himself to his servant role.

"Always. My affection is yours. Be as greedy as you like, preferably before I get too old."

"My Lord . . . "

You release his hands as you stretch with a yawn. He stammers, beside himself with surprise. The faint blush in his cheeks turns crimson. You stand and pat his shoulder, enjoying his flustered state. You didn't mean to tease him—everything you said was true. If it gave him hope or encouraged him to be bolder, then all the better.

"Back to bed for me," you say.

"Yes, of course." He gets to his feet as he regains his composure.

As you reach the first step, you give him a pointed look.

"Yes, Lord?" he asks.

"Please don't sleep at your desk," you say. "It's bad for your back."

"Of course. I'll put my things away and go to bed myself," he says.

"Good." You grin, then climb the steps. When you reach the top, you call down to him. "I mean it."

The sound of his soothing laugh floats up to you. "Yes, my Lord. I hope you have pleasant dreams."

"You too, Berrien."

You're confident he'll return to dreaming of you.

[meowmeowriley]

Hi costume anon here! I love goth Soap and tech Gaz so much!!!!!!!

Do I have ideas about the effects of repeated and long term exposure to ghostly energy?why yes, yes I do >:3c

Okay Ghost isn’t a full Ghost (ha!) which means he operates on a plain/wavelength (or what have you) closer to humans then a regular goulie would, close enough that a little bit of the extra energy the run off starts to affect the mortals around him… (you can use this for horror or comedy depending on how far you want to take it (I don’t think it would lead to death though))

At first there’s a bit of lethargy and a feeling of lingering cold slight numbness and or tingling on fingers and toes easily ignore or brushed off

Insomnia would hit after that and if they were early birds they’d slowly become night owls but again given what the guys have been through they don’t think much about it

It isn’t until they get sick and they start leaking a little ecto that things start dawning on them (queue the angst (Ghost sulks and tries to avoid them ( this does not work)))

After a while their colds (he he) settle down but if they remain paler then before and their canines are a little sharper, they can see a little better in the darkness and have a feeling of general otherness about them who’s to say?

Itty-bitty baby cores they can’t replenish on their own so when soap gets angry people get static shocks if they touch him and it’s a little easer for Gaz to hack tech when he can speak tech. I’d also wager they’d build a tolerance to Ghost abilities so the ghostly wail and cold glare wouldn’t effect them much maybe they could even sense him.

The speed with which the changes happen would be determined by length and rate of exposure

I hope this isn’t to much rambling my autistic arse would not stop thinking about this even when I had things to do today lol

I hope you have a great day!

RAAAAAAHHHHH YOU'VE SOLD ME ON IT

Nobody would notice them being tired or testy, because they're in the military, everyone's tired and testy. They have caffeine addictions, but so does every soldier. They bark orders at recruits, but come onnnn they're sergeants. It's literally their job to be tough on lower ranks.

Ghost would sulk thinking he's hurting his friends, meanwhile-

Gaz: "who needs wifi when you ARE the wifi?!" Happily tip-tapping away on a laptop that absolutely should not be getting signal where they are, and yet he's getting better signal and faster internet than anyone else does on fucking base. Suddenly he's got controll of all the electronics the enemies have. Drones self destruct, turrets open fire, every door simultaneously locks, trapping men. The enemy base is in chaos.

Soap: "AHAHAHAHAHA! Zippity zap, pippity pop! And yer transformers all go BOOM!!!" His eyes shine brightly and electricity crackles and dances through his mohawk. Distant explosions as the every transformer and junction box gets overloaded simultaneously. There's fire everywhere.

Through their constant proximity to Ghost, and constant use of their powers, it doesn't take long for them to both become powerhouses in their own right.

Tbh, I fucking love electricity powers for Soap. I know we all headcanon him as a pyro, a firy little demon man, but I really think electricity suits him. Ever seen an outlet shoot sparks? They're blue! Not all the time, but still. Blue's always been his color, to me at least. Ever seen a transformer exploded? Big ol' fireball. And he'd cause constant electrical fires if he could.

Anyhow! Fuck I love this AU 🥰 And you! You're brilliant!

[edgessunflower]

At sunrise

Pairing: Test x Fem reader

Description: Test helps you back to sleep when your insomnia kicks in

You had managed to get three hours of sleep at most before you were wide awake trying to go back to sleep but despite your attempts nothing worked leading to the next four hours from 2:00 to 6:00 of being awake staying quiet as you can so you didn't wake your boyfriend Test until he had woken up when he didn't feel you next to him. He wakes up looking around before getting up to find you sitting next to the window with dark circles under your eyes, your eyes bloodshot, and definitely would have fallen over had he not been beside you in the second he saw you leaning away from the window "How long have you been awake baby? It's 6:15" you look at the clock before remembering what time it was when you woke up "Since 2...I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn't" he knew you had insomnia especially when your anxiety was bad which it had been for the past few weeks of being on and off the road, grueling matches, barely eating throughout the day, working out early in the morning and late at night, and training you were pretty much willing yourself to get through the day despite the full on exhaustion of not sleeping over the course of the past 51 hours using coffee and even small sips of soda to keep energy for matches. "Honey you could have woken me up" he pulls you in his arms after the two of you walk on the front porch being held as the two of you watch the sun rise "I love you Drew" he smiles at the nickname for short use of his real name sharing a kiss before the sun was now up thankfully the two of you had the next couple of weeks off so you could catch up on sleep "I love you my dear" he smiles more seeing you asleep in his arms carrying you back inside and tucking you in bed holding you in his arms sleeping in until you wake up to find him shirtless in the kitchen cooking putting a sweet smile on your face wrapping your arma around his waist as you slowly get awake peeking under his arm to see alfredo being cooked in a pan before the two of you were eating outside enjoying the warm sun shining enjoying more time tangled together on the couch before the two of you were back asleep.

[thequeenrose]

Article: Faithless singer Maxi Jazz dies aged 65

Faithless singer Maxi Jazz dies aged 65

Faithless was a band that touched my soul as a kid, and has journeyed with me well into adulthood. The lyrics in his songs are and always have been, awe-inspiring. Here's just a few

Deep in the bosom of the gentle night

Is when I search for the light

Pick up my pen and start to write

I struggle, fight dark forces

In the clear moon light

Without fear... insomnia

I can't get no sleep

-Insomnia

This is my church

This is where I heal my hurt

It's in the world I become

Content in the hum

Between voice and drum

It's in change

The poetic justice of cause and effect

Respect, love, compassion

This is my church

This is where I heal my hurt

For tonight

God is a DJ

-God is a DJ

In you the song which rights my wrongs

In you the fullness of living

The power to begin again

From right now, in you

- We come 1

Y'Know what? Skinny lickle me, started to strut.

Ten years old, suddenly bold,

'Cos I resolved to live like my hero in the ring...

Be smart, never give an inch, no retreating

An I racked up, respect from teachers, rednecks

And creatures who attack in a pack like insects.

Never, seen the like, not before or since,

A young prince an I remain convinced of his invincibility,

Athletic agility, virility, still a free spirit.

Forever through eternity, stingin' like a bee...

Muhammad Ali.

-Muhammad Ali

I can gauge your mood, from your approach to food

You use ya rude red shoes to accessorize your attitude

Desensitized to my roving eyes, and ready smile

I get loving that's versatile,

Worth that extra smile lying next to me

Your textured voice whispering,

I'm listening with my whole skin

Holding onto the moment for all its worth

How could I continue to be the sky without my earth

Miss U less, See U more

RIP Maxi Jazz 😔🖤❤️‍🩹

[ahalal-uralma]

^^ Person above me you have Migraines with auras as I have those very similar symptoms and that condition. You are describing auras. Auras can come in visual/auditory/sensory distortions that warn you of the impending attack. Sometimes they can last into it.

And I’m going to add many of those symptoms vary depending on the type of migraine sufferer one is. There is more than one type of migraine. Some are common (ie. migraines without aura) while others like migraine with aura are rare.

These are a list of them:

- Migraine without aura

- Migraine with aura

- Chronic migraine

- Abdominal migraine

- Acephalgicmigraine

- Migraine with brainstem aura

- Hemiplegic migraine

- Retinal migraine

- Status migrainosus

- Menstrual migraine

- Ophthalmoplegic migraine

- Medication-induced migraine

- Vestibular migraine

- Cyclic vomiting syndrome

With rare types you can be more susceptible to suffer severe symptoms like:

- Loss of appetite

- Dehydration due to uncontrolled vomiting

- Higher risks for sleep walking, insomnia, night terrors, and other sleeping disorder issues

- Loss of consciousness

- Short term memory loss

- Prolonged pain that can last for days straight. General rule is if it goes over 72 hours then you should go to the hospital, however there are other symptoms that can warrant an earlier trip within a 24 hour period.

- Paralysis (partial parts of the body or whole body paralysis). This can vary per person. Some may find their eyes paralyzed from movement, while other sufferers might have half or their entire body paralyzed like a statue.

- Stroke - either symptoms that mimic stroke or that literally lead to it depending on triggers

- Heart palpitations/ Heart attack risk

- Vertigo

- Seizures (these can be a result of the migraine with auras, especially; these may get diagnosed as psychogenic non-epileptic seizures, or can be triggered/coupled with another disorder like epilepsy—more rare, but not impossible)

I’ve been battling slow erosion to my esophagus due to some of my attacks leading to horrible vomiting that won’t stop without injection of Zofran. Thing about erosion to the esophagus is it can be fatal if it fully erodes. It takes about 6 or 7 years to heal this, but I have not been able to since I have migraines all of the time. Medics try to warn me to stop, but I’ve reached a point my esophagus literally rattles and beats against my chest when I vomit. They can hear it and it’s become default protocol when I get that bad to throw me onto fluids and Zofran.

I can’t stress it enough if you’re experiencing anything that disrupts your quality of life it is to your benefit as a migraine sufferer to get full diagnosis and treatment from a Neurologist. I suffer vomiting only once or twice a month now since I’ve begun treatment, which is a huge improvement to 3-4 times a week.

Many of my large list of seizures I was enduring every day (multiple times a day) occur once or twice a week now and are reduced most of the time to “pacing around” episodes (with a few exceptions once in a while).

Before I got the right medication, I was having regular full paralysis, waking nightmare seizures (hallucination type) and had to fear getting ones where I would collapse into unconsciousness so bad my lungs and heart would freeze working for minutes (so far this has happened twice at most to my functioning memory).

Also, have to stress it pain might not be the worst symptom for some people, but that alone can be extremely torture to others. When my pain is kicked in throughout my head and neck at it’s worst it can cause nerves to hurt down to my feet. I have severe muscle tension in my legs all of the time.

Additionally, not to be dramatic but this is how it feels to get this pain—I feel like I’m being broken and amputated but I’m still intact and my nerves are my worst enemy.

While I have a migraine on Christmas Eve let’s talk about other aspects of migraines besides the pain that comes in waves because for me and many others the pain isn’t the worst symptom of migraines.

Migraines may include:

Feeling tired

Your brain feeling like mush

Getting a stuffy/runny nose (why many people think they get sinus headaches when really they are getting migraines)

Before a migraine, hallucinating smells

Nausea

Vomiting

Feeling tired and full of brain fog the next day

Muscle pain in your neck and back

Dull uncomfortable pressure rather than pain

Distorted vision/general sensitivity to light

Sensitivity to sound

Irritability

Scalp tenderness

Lightheadedness/dizziness

And more!

[althealthinfos]

TR Night Burner Reviews: The Ultimate Fat Burner and Cognitive Booster?

Are you looking for a natural and effective way to lose weight and improve your mental performance? If so, you might want to check out TR Night Burner, a dietary supplement that claims to help you burn fat while you sleep and enhance your cognitive functioning.

TR Night Burner is a unique product that combines the benefits of thermogenesis and nootropics. Thermogenesis is the process of increasing your core body temperature, which can boost your metabolism and help you burn more calories. Nootropics are substances that can improve your brain functions, such as memory, focus, mood, and creativity.

In this article, we will review TR Night Burner and see how it works, what ingredients it contains, what benefits it offers, and what customers are saying about it. We will also compare it with some of the other popular fat burners and cognitive boosters on the market and see how it stacks up.

✅ Click here to read full review: TR Night Burner Reviews

What Are The Benefits of TR Night Burner?

By taking one capsule of TR Night Burner before bedtime, you can expect to experience the following benefits:

Increased core body temperature and metabolic rate, leading to more fat burning and weight loss

Enhanced mood, energy, and motivation during the day

Improved sleep quality and duration, leading to better recovery and well-being

Reduced stress and anxiety, leading to better mental health and performance

Improved cognitive functioning, such as memory, focus, creativity, and learning

What Are Customers Saying About TR Night Burner?

TR Night Burner has received many positive reviews from satisfied customers who have tried the product and seen the results. Here are some of the testimonials from the Official Website:

“TR Night Burner supplement has exceeded my expectations. Not only has it helped me shed unwanted pounds, but it has also improved my overall well-being. I feel more energized throughout the day, and my mood has significantly improved. It’s a holistic approach to weight loss that I truly appreciate.” - Jessica, 34

“I combined the TR Night Burner with exercise and a healthy diet, and saw amazing results. The natural ingredients helped me burn fat, maintain muscle, and provided an energy boost for my workouts. I lost 35 pounds and noticed improvements in cognitive ability and sleep quality. It’s a powerful tool for achieving fitness goals.” - Ryan, 28

“I was skeptical about TR Night Burner at first, but I decided to give it a try after reading the positive reviews. I’m glad I did, because it really works. I lost 40 pounds while improving my cognitive ability and sleep quality. The natural ingredients provided me with an energy boost during the day, while the melatonin and valerian root helped me fall asleep faster at night.” - Amanda, 32

Based on these positive reviews, it’s clear that TR Night Burner has made a positive impact on users, helping them achieve their weight loss goals, enhancing their mood and energy levels, and doing so without any unwanted side effects.

How Does TR Night Burner Compare With Other Products?

There are many other products on the market that claim to help you lose weight and improve your cognitive functioning. However, not all of them are as effective, safe, or natural as TR Night Burner. Here are some of the differences between TR Night Burner and some of the other popular products:

TR Night Burner vs PhenQ: PhenQ is a weight loss supplement that contains ingredients such as caffeine, capsimax, nopal, chromium picolinate, and L-carnitine. It claims to help you burn fat, suppress appetite, boost energy, and improve mood. However, PhenQ does not contain any ingredients that specifically target cognitive functioning, nor does it increase core body temperature while sleeping. Additionally, PhenQ may cause side effects such as jitteriness, insomnia, and headaches due to the high amount of caffeine.

TR Night Burner vs Mind Lab Pro: Mind Lab Pro is a nootropic supplement that contains ingredients such as citicoline, bacopa monnieri, lion’s mane mushroom, phosphatidylserine, and L-theanine. It claims to help you enhance memory, focus, creativity, and mood. However, Mind Lab Pro does not contain any ingredients that specifically target weight loss, nor does it increase core body temperature while sleeping. Additionally, Mind Lab Pro is more expensive than TR Night Burner, costing $65 per bottle compared to $49 per bottle.

TR Night Burner vs Leanbean: Leanbean is a weight loss supplement that contains ingredients such as konjac fiber, choline, chromium, green coffee, and turmeric. It claims to help you burn fat, suppress appetite, boost metabolism, and reduce bloating. However, Leanbean does not contain any ingredients that specifically target cognitive functioning, nor does it increase core body temperature while sleeping. Additionally, Leanbean is designed for women only, while TR Night Burner is suitable for both men and women.

As you can see, TR Night Burner offers a unique combination of benefits that other products do not. It is the only product that targets both fat burning and cognitive functioning, while also increasing core body temperature while sleeping. It is also made of natural and safe ingredients, and has a reasonable price.

✅ Click here to read full review: TR Night Burner Reviews

[redwineconversation]

SK Brann - Olympique Lyonnais OLPlay Postgame Interviews

Better late than never... Alas, some of us have full time jobs and other commitments which stop us from being chronically online, so here we are a month later.

I like Lyon like this in the postgame interviews: vexed, vengeful, and so obviously out for blood. The break will be good for them both in that it will give them much needed rest but also in that it will trigger their insomnia. Wanting to burn the world down keeps them up at night. They're better for it when they can't sleep.

Blah blah standard disclaimers apply; @OL Comms Dept pls pay for my Starbucks or help me replace my dishwasher, both are expensive; don't do invasive shit; y'all know the speech by now.

Timothee > your club's "journalist".

VANESSA GILLES OLPLAY POSTGAME INTERVIEW

Journalist: Thank you, Vanessa, for being here with us. We obviously brought the result, this draw in the dying seconds must be disappointing for you. And frustrating as well, I imagine.

Gilles: Yeah. I think we defended well, we stayed strong until the end. Then as you said, conceding a goal in the dying seconds, especially in the manner that it happened, obviously a lot of frustration. But we need to remind ourselves it's not the end of the world, we're still first in the group, and there's still two games to go.

Journalist: We were prepared for a tough game in Norway. We talked about it a lot leading up to this game, the playing conditions, the weather conditions, the synthetic field, and this Brann team. It's not a coincidence they're in second place. They're a team who put you under difficulty in the home leg. It's more the circumstances surrounding the game and obviously the direct red card for Lindsey Horan, a definite talking point. How did it affect you on the field, the circumstances surrounding the game?

Gilles: Yeah, conditions, non-conditions, sending off or not, I think we're here to win the competition. We're not here to just get out of the group stages. I think that we can - we have things to work on. Those are just part of the game, whether there is a sending off or not. And as I said, I think we defended well, but I think there were situations where we could have done better and we will work on that. But I think you have to think of the future, and that gives experience as a team on how to handle those parts of the game.

Timothee: Good evening, Vanessa. Before talking about the future, we in the studio struggled to understand the referee's decision to give the red card. Do you know more about it? Do you know what she accused Lindsey Horan of or not? Because we didn't really know. What motivated the referee's decision?

Gilles: That's a really good question. I think a lot of people are asking that question. We didn't really have an explanation on the field. Beyond that, we can't really talk about the refereeing, but Chelsea experienced a strange game as well a few weeks ago, now it was our turn. But I think it's a problem in women's football which is across the board, we talk a lot - I'm not supposed to talk about it, but it's talked about a lot in the D1 [Arkema], it's about in the Champions League. If we're supposed to improve, then the level of refereeing has to improve as well.

Journalist: You said it, Lyon remains at the top of the group. Lyon remains undefeated this season. There is a much deserved break. But I imagined you would have rather left with more of a peace of mind.

Gilles: [scoffs] Yeah, obviously. I think we had a really good dynamic with only wins. We would have liked to finish with that as well, and have the qualification and first place wrapped up. There is a lot of disappointment because I think Chris[tiane Endler] had an excellent game with incredible saves. To concede a goal like that in the dying seconds, for Chris, for the team, for everyone, it's - we'll say it's annoying. But we'll take the break as well, it's deserved, because it must be said we had a really good season up to now. Get some rest and come back with a lot of ambition and a lot of motivation for the second part of the season.

Journalist: And Vanessa, you were right to say we need to put things in perspective in life. I don't know if you were made aware of the news while at Brann, but the match between St Polten and Salvia Prague was postponed because of a shooting which occurred on a university campus today in Prague. When we get that sort of news, we have to tell ourselves that other things are more important.

Gilles: That's for sure. I think that everywhere in the world there are things like that, there are even things within our team which affect all of us [cf what Dabritz went through at the beginning of the season. Normally I would clarify but lord knows "people" love to mouth off about shit they don't know anything about] Obviously there are things we need to put in perspective. At the end of the day it's "just" football even if it is our job. But as you said, there are much more important things as well.

Journalist: In any case, Vanessa, if you could let the whole team know that everyone at Olympique Lyonnais is very proud of you, and we're really looking forward to seeing you again in 2024 which promises to be full of emotion. Until then, have a great Christmas break.

Gilles: Thank you. Thank you for all the work you do, and happy holidays.

CHRISTIANE ENDLER OLPLAY POSTGAME INTERVIEW

Journalist: We're back in Bergen with Christiane Endler. Christiane, thanks for being here with us. We got the feeling tonight that you had a big game, we really thought that you had guaranteed that 16th win by coming up with decisive saves. Unfortunately in the dying seconds, we will have to be okay with the draw.

Endler: Yes, it was a difficult game, a game where we couldn't get the three points. We're really disappointed because of that because I think we deserved the win. It was a really difficult game, and with an opponent who made it difficult. But I think we were playing against 12 today.

Journalist: Christiane, we knew that the game tonight would be complicated. We obviously talked about the weather conditions in Norway in the depth of winter, a synthetic field, an opponent who wanted to get a result to stay in the race for qualifications. It was a difficult game but Vanessa [Gilles] brought it up, it's also those sorts of games that make you stronger.

Endler: Yeah, I think that games like that can help for the rest of the season to be stronger, more efficient, manage the difficult games well. It's good to have that kind of game before going into the playoffs. We'll learn from this for sure. I hope it stays in our memory for the rest of the season and we do better next time.

Timothee: And you also showed, Vanessa - Christiane, sorry - you also showed strong character values which will be important for the rest of the season: courage [Note: not exactly the word I would have chosen...], showing solidarity, holding on to the result even with everything going against you. All that are things you can build on for the future, no?

Endler: Yes, of course. It shows that we have a strong mentality, that we work together, and that we're behind each other. And the solidarity we showed today, that's how we win trophies. And for sure for the next few months, it will help us for sure.

Journalist: So Christiane, Chile is obviously going to be another story in the upcoming days. But you have any memory of playing a football game in conditions like today?

Endler: No, for me it's the first time. I don't really like conditions like this. It was hard. But it's good to have experienced it at least once in your life.

Journalist: Christiane, once again congratulations. You were voted Player of the Match tonight. You showed all your talent by pulling off amazing saves tonight. You're also going to warm up a little. It's the middle of summer in Chile.

Endler: Yes, it's good, it's summer over there. It's really warm, I will make the most of being with my family, and stay over there and recover before coming back and winning everything, which are our objectives.

Journalist: A huge thank you, and a big congratulations, Christiane. Wishing you a happy Christmas and New Year and looking forward to seeing in 2024 with all the challenges Olympique Lyonnais Feminin will be facing in 2024.

Endler: Merry Christmas to everybody and happy holidays. We'll see each other next year.

SONIA BOMPASTOR OLPLAY POSTGAME INTERVIEW

Journalist: Sonia, unfortunately the perfect streak has been broken. Despite that, Lyon remains undefeated, Lyon is first in the group. But the context of the game leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth.

Bompastor: Yeah, exactly. Good evening. You're right to say that with this scenario, we're obviously disappointed with how the game ended. I think that when you look at how we played in the second half, and that we were a player down, we deserved to keep our lead. Obviously the frustration prevails because they scored in the very last minute. So... But once again, despite this frustration, we had a very strong desire to have a perfect record. I think we have to look at the facts. The facts are that today we are top of the ground, we hold our destiny in our hands and we can get the qualification locked up in the next game in January.

Journalist: We talked about the scenario with Vanessa [Gilles] and Christiane [Endler]. We'll stay positive. The first half of Lyon's season was excellent, and we almost want to say that it's this kind of game which will help [prepare] for 2024.

Bompastor: Yes, it's true. The overall results were good, very good even, even if we wish we could have ended on a good note. That being said, the kind of game is useful, as you said. We need to analyze it and take away the important information, even if the result isn't up to our standards, there are positive things to take away. I've said it before, I already firmly believed this, but the team's mentality, the values the players showed in the second half, those are things we can obviously build off of in anticipation of what's to come in the second half of the season.

Timothee: Good evening, Sonia. We got the impression this was a group which gave everything they had, they showed such incredible moral values, such courage and solidarity. How do you - I know it's difficult to answer this in the heat of the moment - but how do you analyze the start of the first half, where the score was largely in favor of Olympique Lyonnais? How do you explain Brann getting back in the game? Was it because the players were tired, was it because they [Brann] made adjustments which made things difficult? How do you explain how they were able to get back in the game in the first half?

Bompastor: Yes, it's true we started well, we started strong. We were up 2-0 and were in control of the game. And I think that in the second period of the first half, we lacked communication defensively, players weren't communicating with the outside backs, Perle [Morroni] and Elle [Carpenter], especially with Ellie. We had a team in front of us who was causing us problems with their tactics, their two midfielders who typically play out wide were much more central, and their positioning created doubts for us. We weren't able to make adjustments in the second period of the first half. So there were moments where we should have put the ball out of play, especially with Kadi[diatou Diani], Damaris, Ellie, who [all] like to drive forward. Kadi should cut inside more and timed runs better. Those are things we weren't able to do. The communication was off so we weren't able to execute well. We tried to fix it in the second half but unfortunately the scenario and the red card meant we weren't able to execute it.

Journalist: Sonia, Olympique Lyonnais remains undefeated. You can nonetheless go on vacation, take a break. January is going to be a packed month, with a lot of important games. We're thinking of the first game against Paris FC, then the sequence with the Coupe de France, Montpellier in the Coupe de France and then the league, the Champions League as well. This month of January 2024 is going to be difficult for you. What is the program for the upcoming days? What are the plans during the break?

Bompastor: Well listen, right now we're really focused on the break, which will do the world of good to everyone, the players, the staff as well. We played a lot of games towards the end of the year, so the priority is the recovery. Physical recovery but mental as well. Spend good time with your loved ones. The end of year celebrations are moments meant for those, to really recuperate mentally. And as you said, we're coming back in January with a packed season and a lot of big objectives. I said it before. there are three trophies at play in the second half of the season. So there will be a second half of the season full of emotions. But for now we will really focus on recovery and come back full of energy in the second half of the season.

Journalist: Sonia, a huge thank you on behalf of everyone at OLPlay. A big thank you for everything you've shown us, we've really enjoyed the first half of the season and we're very eager to see what comes next. Happy holidays, and see you in 2024.

Bompastor: Thank you, have a good break as well.

[valgasnewsthings]

Salt bath for legs.

 In cold, high temperature use hot water in bowl on 37C, and add handful of salt, mix, and put legs, keep bath for ten min, in cooling adding hot water.After  rub legs, drink raspberry tea or honey, go in bed .Cure doing for night and its all, ten min and its enough!

Am wondering right if not would be a happy, but misfortune helped me. At garden worked on August am received spine injury, am not fallen, probably am overloaded. Doctor checked me and diagnosis put as osteoporosis and pathological compression fracture for 12 breast vertebra. And prescribed cure, but daughter helped me as for accelerate this cure as vertebra growing faster and cooked jelly of agar-agar, that taste delicious meal am eaten three months for 2 times/day on half glass.

 And am not sure, a how jelly helped me, but x-ray need to show , but for my bowel helped, am fought hard stool, stool is normalized, this is true miracle,that used different cure, but such positive result in bowel problem as of jelly has not happened. Am share recipe, I hope this helps for the other in same problem. A half packet of agar-agar 7 gr, add in 0.5 l. ready cow berry water, as you can cook his, or buy, mix good, lead till boiling in enamel dish and boil 4 min, after add in plate and cold, jelly is ready, and if jelly is very sweet, add lemon juice pinch.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/agar-powder/s?k=agar+agar+powder 

Cats and dogs often  eating herb wheatgrass, this herb helps in ache joints, osteochondrosis, gout. Cure in herb are all parts, but a most are roots, and her use in meal for salads, soups or cook infusion.

2 tbl.sp. dried roots add 2 glasses for hot water, infuse 12 hours, in closed dish , filter, use for 3 times/day as warm before meal, for month. Cook better for night, you are getting good concentration. 

50 gr of roots, cook 20 min.  in a full 5 l. of pot, infuse till a full cooling, filter, use for 2 times/day one glass before meal, for month.

Lots of patients are having haemorrhoid problems.

Am too having. Am used in pharmacy remedies , and herbs. But this recipe helped me by Caucasian peoples, which are lives in Caucasus . Buy nutrition ram s lard , cut his, and on weak fire evaporate all fat, when lard is cool, not cold, form suppositors, like of pharmacy, apply on a formed from paper are candy wrappers, and in hardening theirs is to wrap. Suppositiors   are getting much. And put theirs in packet and in freezer. And am cures as bought in pharmacy pills Venarus  as one box, cure by scheme, after defecation wash, rub, and drop with any cream or Vaseline grease anus,that suppository enter easy. One for venarus is enough. And suppositors  enter by a your condition, am having constantly theirs in freezer. Using without venarus. Will happy, if this recipe helps you too. He is true helps.

https://sijer-frost.ru/product/diosmin-hesperidin-venarus/ 

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9 years ago am read in one press, as doing a data cocktail calling Glass for a blood circulation am used for health strengthening, and in recipe shared,that he is help in heart beating, hypertension, meteo- addiction , insomnia, low spasms , cramps, and beating thrombus. Confirmed this am done a surgery for veins removing, and doctor asked, that Do I had thrombus? And yes, they are never left me, and you are beaten theirs..Am remember ,that within 12 month used this cocktail, not regularity, just if heart worried, for calm, and puzzle connected. And for cook his use tinctures from pharmacy are on 100 ml. valeriana, crataegus, peony, leonurus, add 50 ml. eucalyptus tincture, 25 ml. of mint. All add in one bottle or jar, add 10 buttons of pink, close jar, put in dark place,  and periodically shake .In two weeks cocktail filter, and use on 15 drops in half glass of water diluting before meal for 3 times/day. And course by you can use, these  tinctures from recipes are enough for one course, as for night or from a case to case. After stroke am cured with this cocktail for my hubby after stroke, giving for my friends and importance he is works!

from Valga s health news,gardening,and cooking ,and beauty . https://ift.tt/8mUGHTN via https://ift.tt/1bYyjCS

[the-sage-libriomancer]

Act Two

In which Tadashi makes some bad decisions and shit goes down real fast.

Tadashi, frustrated with not having any more leads, tangles with Yama and his gang in search of answers. Yama isn't exactly sympathetic that the snot-nosed kid who tried to dupe him is dead, but he's more than willing to do business if Tadashi has something to offer...like maybe making winning bots for Yama's botfighting rings. Tadashi doesn't take him up on it immediately, but it festers in the back of his mind for a long time.

Tadashi goes on the hunt for Kabuki Man, but since EB-1 is still unstable, he uses Baymax as a ride/bodyguard instead. Insert lots of bonding, a (college) boy and his robot, etc etc. This is the part of the story where he starts to actually heal from losing his brother, and he takes important steps toward improving his mental health.

There's no reason for Tadashi to hide Baymax from Cass, so he becomes part of the household very quickly lol. There's some Cass & Baymax bonding - he gives her tips on stress relief/managing insomnia and she gives him a bunch of recipes because "there's no better cure for a bad day than good food!"

Tadashi is still actively working on the EB-1 in his downtime, convinced it will help him resolve something (it won't but shhhh). However thanks to Baymax's influence, he's started sleeping at home again and doesn't pull as many all-nighters.

One night, Tadashi has a nightmare about Hiro's death and decides to work at the lab for a while to calm down. While there, he discovers Kabuki Man stealing EB-1. Kabuki Man escapes with EB-1 and Tadashi uses Baymax (who followed Tadashi to the lab bc his programming told him to) to chase after him. Unfortunately Kabuki Man gets away with EB-1.

Now Tadashi really starts to panic. Kabuki Man knew where Tadashi's lab was, which means he might know where Tadashi lives too, putting him and Cass in danger. Not to mention he just stole a robot that could very easily be used as a weapon. They have to find this guy and they have to find him NOW.

Feeling like he's out of options, Tadashi finally decides to take Yama's offer. Yama promises to find him information about Kabuki Man if Tadashi makes winning bots, and a tired and desperate Tadashi thinks that he can work with that. He's just about the make the deal when his friends show up to stop him - luckily Baymax contacted the rest of the team because "my programming does not allow me to endorse illegal activities" (except we all know it wasn't just his programming lol).

Good ending to this subplot is that Yama, upon hearing the full story behind Tadashi's motivations, manages to squeeze enough empathy out of his shriveled heart to find Tadashi the information he needs pro bono. Bad ending is that Yama doesn’t like Tadashi saying no and attacks, forcing Team Tadashi to fight their way out of there.

I can't think of a good way to get the girls fighting so let's just say Baymax ended up scanning Kabuki Man at the lab and they track him down like in canon. It turns out Kabuki Man is testing out EB-1 at the abandoned Project Silent Sparrow site. When Team Tadashi arrives, they have to go head to head with Kabuki Man and EB-1 at the same time.

After a hard fight, Kabuki Man is defeated and finally gets exposed, revealing...gasp! Professor Callaghan? This is a huge blow for all of them, but Tadashi in particular (understandably) takes it hard. After spending the entire story suppressing his emotions, Tadashi finally loses it and attacks Callaghan—not in the cold, revengeful way Hiro did, but with his own hands. No Baymax rampage, just Tadashi and his grief getting violently externalized.

Tadashi gets pretty into whaling his former teacher, and his friends have to focus on prying him off of Callaghan before he does some real damage, allowing Callaghan to escape with EB-1. Tadashi is a hot mess right now, but luckily he's got his entire support group surrounding him. This is the part of the story where Tadashi finally, finally lets go of all the horrible grief-stricken feelings that have been eating him alive and has a good cry.

Once Tadashi gets it all out of his system, the exhausted team heads home, trying not to think about what Callaghan is up to...

Was randomly in the mood to read a Tadashi Lives/Hiro Dies au for BH6, but then I remembered that I was never able to find a good one bc all of the fics were just boring remixes or even outright retellings of the movie's plot with Tadashi in Hiro's role. So since I'm in the mood for outlining and also super bored here's my vision of what a good "Hiro dies instead of Tadashi AU" would look like:

(this is split into acts bc apparently Tumblr has a character limit and this got unspeakably long lol)

Act One

A little before the fire starts, Hiro runs back into the school for whatever reason and is in the building when it explodes. Obviously he doesn't make it and of course Tadashi is completely devastated.

Most fics I read showed Tadashi falling into a depressive funk the way Hiro did in canon. I actually think he would react the opposite way: Hiro was so brilliant that he lost motivation easily bc it was so hard to seriously challenge himself, but Tadashi strikes me as the sort of person who needs to Do Something when things go to shit. So in this AU he becomes a workaholic, working on a brand new project that requires a LOT of time and effort.

Tadashi's new project is an "emergency bot" (aka EB-1) that is basically a more proactive version of Baymax centered around search and rescue. EB-1 will be capable of saving people from car accidents, natural disasters, and yes, fires. Tadashi is obsessed with completing it and forgoes everything else.

Unfortunately Baymax is pushed to the wayside by Tadashi, as just looking at him brings up memories of Hiro that are currently painful. A small running gag is that Baymax keeps inflating when he senses Tadashi being self-destructive (ie every ten minutes) and Tadashi keeps shutting him down, until finally Tadashi brings him back to Cass's place and leaves him there.

Tadashi's friends are more heavily involved this time around since this is one of their best friends. They do everything in their power to make him take care of himself, but he's heavily resisting because he is Going Through It and refuses to relinquish his unhealthy coping mechanisms.

A couple of weeks after Hiro's death, Tadashi is snooping around town in search of a good place to field test the EB-1, and he happens upon the warehouse that's hosting Callighan's microbot making operation. Tadashi accidentally tips off Kabuki Man while getting some pictures and barely escapes Kabuki Man's clutches.

Furious that someone has apparently stolen his little brother's tech and is mass producing it, Tadashi gets his friends involved. They're initially skeptical even with the pictures (which are terrible quality lol), but Tadashi convinces them to come see the warehouse with him so he can prove himself. Since they get a jump start this time, they end up catching Kabuki Man red-handed as he's still moving the microbot-making equipment.

Obviously Kabuki Man chases Team Tadashi, and there's a brief chase scene. However, Tadashi came prepared: he brought EB-1 (hastily modified to have some fighting prowess) and unleashes it on Kabuki Man for its first "test run." EB-1 successfully fills all its initial parameters before Kabuki Man bails, which Tadashi is excited about - his invention works! His friends are considerably less excited about all this and vote to go somewhere to recuperate.

Safe at Fred's house (because we NEED that reveal), Tadashi and his friends put their heads together to figure out their options. One thing leads to another, and the five of them end up pinning Krei as a main suspect - not necessarily as Kabuki Man himself, but definitely as someone who might be involved.

One fic I read was such an unoriginal rehash that it literally repeated movie scenes verbatim with Tadashi speaking Hiro's lines (AU authors please don't do this) BUT the one place it did try to be original was by replacing Hiro's gadgets-making montage with Team Tadashi literally flying up to Krei's office on the top floor (using Baymax no less) and interrogating him, and I honestly can't think of a more ic way for the group to go about it. If you asked me "what would a bunch of tired and desperate STEM majors do when they need to talk to a rich businessman they can't contact" that would be it lmao.

Interrogating Krai goes about as well as you'd expect: he refuses to give them any information, but does make a compelling enough argument that Team Tadashi is forced to leave him alone. Tadashi still doesn't trust him but reluctantly rules him out as a Kabuki Man suspect. However, Krei accidentally drops a couple clues about Silent Sparrow that will become relevant later.

Team Tadashi dejectedly calls it quits, and the team tries to convince Tadashi to focus his energy elsewhere. But Tadashi isn't giving up just yet.