#when it is late enough in the midnight my anxiety level increasing to a level that i want to bury myself for those idiot post

[shut-the-burrow-door-pls]

……i just back from birb site, cannot tell what the fuck is this (was a eye train but i just don't like drawing eyes) just silly red-beans

[doridoripawaa]

Zenderella

What’s the point of wishing upon a star at night?

Could stars even hear wishes from up in the sky?

Zen continued to dream, with aspirations bright,

And hoped that one day, he would be able to fly.

Each day felt like a nightmare, trapping him inside,

As he strained to endure his family’s abuse.

Their cruelty was something he could not abide,

As they treated him like some hideous refuse.

But he found a release in the form of the stage

When he was not tidying up around the house.

Theater helped to free him from his family’s cage

That forced him to act as a quiet, ugly mouse.

One fateful night would transform his entire tale.

A night that’d show dreams and love would always prevail.

Clean as could be. Not a speck of dirt or dust in sight.

To meet these goals, Zen would likely need to work all night.

His parents and his brother would be off to the ball,

While they expected him to stay home and clean the halls!

Little did they know, tonight in that grandiose gala, the primary source of entertainment would be coming from the one who they had scorned, ridiculed, trampled, abused. The highlight of the night would come not from the dancing and music--which were to be expected at this type of event--but from the players who would take the stage and enchant the guests with a whimsical tale. Apparently, the princess of the kingdom had been struggling lately, living a life devoid of joy, hope, wonder, or optimism; thus, the king and queen had demanded a riveting tale that could restore the spark to their child’s eyes.

What kind of life was that? Even Zen, pitiful as he was working on his hands and knees in his family’s home, had his dreams. He had a reason to live, a reason to keep pushing forward. Did royalty ever feel troubles, though? At first, he hadn’t been sure; he thought all nobles and royals were born with a silver spoon in their mouth and would never understand what it meant to truly toil and suffer. However, after hearing the plight of the princess….

Maybe, just maybe, that princess was different.

A sudden rap at the door interrupted Zen from his tumultuous thoughts. With a grunt he lifted himself off the floor to his feet, and he brushed the dirt and dust off of his apron and his knees before heading over to the front door. The rest of his family had already left for the ball, leaving him behind to make their home sparkling clean before they returned.

Maybe, just maybe, today would be the day he wouldn’t have to return.

A second knock came, sharper and more urgent than the first. Zen brushed some sticky, loose strands of his feathery grey-white hair out of his face, and then he hurried over to the door, not wanting to keep his guest waiting.

Honestly, he’s lucky that he decided to run, because as soon as he opened the door and saw a brunette woman scowling at him, he realized that she probably would have broken down the door if he had taken much longer.

“J-Jaehee,” he stammered as he looked down at his castmate. Out of all of the members of the troupe, she was the one with whom he felt the closest connection. She had an incredible work ethic, a true passion for the stage, a meticulous eye, and a personality that wouldn’t shy away from any task given to her. She would always be the first person to speak up if she didn’t like the idea for an upcoming show, but she’d also be the first person to shower the rest of the cast in praise for their heart-wrenching performances.

She also seemed to have a special fondness for Zen, which did wonders not only for his ego but also for his motivation. An actor’s job wasn’t to smile--it was to make others smile.

However, Jaehee also was the type of person who could easily kick you to the ground in three seconds flat if you messed with her or her crew. Apparently, running late was something that could land you on her hitlist, because the glare that her fierce coffee-colored eyes gave him was one that sent shivers down the young man’s spine. He was already ashen, but somehow, he felt as though that stern look made his face grow even paler. “What a delight to see you, babe.”

A soft blush rose to her cheeks, but she quickly managed to force that down. “Don’t b-babe me,” she muttered. “You were supposed to arrive backstage an hour ago. I had no choice but to fetch you myself.”

A whole hour? Zen glanced at the clock and his ruby eyes flew wide open in a panic. “Shit,” he muttered. “I got so distracted by this stain that I… well, that isn’t important.” He sighed and began to untie his apron. “Let me gather my belongings, and I’ll scamper off with you into the sunset, okay?”

He couldn’t tell if her face was flushing red from embarrassment, ire, or exasperation. “P-please make haste!” was all she managed to sputter before Zen headed to his room with a wink and a flick of his wispy ponytail behind him.

~~~

Ball gowns and smiles, pressed suits and polished shoes.

A room full of guests who appeared amused.

As MC stepped down the staircase that night,

Her eyes swam with woe, rather than delight.

Royal life was difficult to abide.

She felt lonely, with no one by your side.

What sorrows could have the heir to the throne?

A life of solitude, scared and alone.

She hoped to enjoy herself at the ball.

She wondered if you would feel joy at all.

When she descended the steps, her eyes glowed.

They had arranged for her to see a show.

The lighting in the room dimmed down and a hush fell over the attendants as actors made their way to the elevated platform at the front of the room. Murmurs and mumbles began to spread throughout the crowd. What was happening? Was this planned? Of course, the king and queen would never allow for any tomfoolery to take place at their event, so this must have been carefully orchestrated. But why take time away from the socializing, the dancing, the mingling? Would this show be enough to dazzle the audience?

Zen had the drive and the skill to ensure that it would.

A sharp inhale of breath, as Zen smelled the perfumes of the ballroom.

A twirl of his long, cascading hair around his fingers, as Zen relished in its softness.

A glance at Jaehee, as Zen sought comfort in her level smile.

A bite of his lip, as Zen tasted the remnants of berries on his tongue.

A twitch of his ears, as he strained to hear the music that signaled his cue.

And as soon as the clock struck, Zen departed from behind the scenes, and Cinderella strode out onto the stage.

Cleaning, cooking. Obeying, behaving. Little “Cinderella” was stuck, trapped at the whims and wills of her abusive family. As Zen knelt down to “scrub” the stage and enact all of her chores, he couldn’t help but feel a growing pit growing in his stomach and anxiety welling in his mind. He wasn’t worried about not portraying the character accurately-- on the contrary, he was nervous that he had embodied her too well. The parallels in Cinderella’s life with his own were almost frightening.

But here, on this stage, this was the one place where his chains were released, his shackles were open, and he could fly, free as a bird. He could forget his worries, he could abandon his burdens, he could become someone else and live his ideal life.

He could sing to his heart’s content, as a free bird, rather than a caged one.

A step. A song. A smile.

The fairy godmother was spinning her magic and casting a spell on the entire crowd, watching with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Above all, however, Princess MC found herself absolutely entranced, hooked on every word and her eyes tracking every single motion, every spin, every twirl, every wave of a wand, every flutter of a skirt. The costumes, the dances, the makeup… they were all spectacular. But above all, the star of the show, Cinderella, really shone like a princess in her own right. Who was this actor with skin as white as snow, hair as soft and pale as the clouds, and eyes that sparkled brighter and warmer than the reddest flame?

Cinderella, despite all of her hardships, had never let go of her dreams.

As Cinderella spun around and her filthy rags turned to magnificent robes, MC’s eyes twinkled and she felt a rush of excitement flood her. When was the last time she had genuinely felt so… happy? Watching this character’s aspirations be realized, watching Cinderella break free and manage to escape for one night of whimsy and fantasy at the ball, made MC’s heart swell. She wanted to cheer Cinderella on, encourage her, support her. Cinderella, who suffered at the cruel hands and horrible words of her family.

The way the actor walked forward, radiant white locks tumbling down his back as he took those first steps towards his dream. The way his drab brown and grey costume melted away, revealing a soft pink tunic and radiant periwinkle cloak, perfectly accentuating his figure while giving him an air of regality. He reached up and clutched a hand to his chest, and then when he opened his mouth to speak, MC felt certain that she had died and been transported to heaven.

That was no mere mortal whose voice she was hearing. She was currently being serenaded by an angel.

Princess MC was only snapped back to reality by the sudden sharp increase in volume of the music.

“And so Cinderella went to the ball,” the narrator announced in a booming voice, trying to orate over the echo of the strings and percussion. “Hoping to grab a dance before midnight should fall. Please, esteemed guests, enjoy your time to dance. Like Cinderella and her friends, may you find your fairytale romance.”

At once the actors and actresses began to mix with the crowd. Most of them moved in pairs and began dancing with the lads, lasses, lords, and ladies of the party. A few of guests rushed up to the actors and actresses--one of the actresses, a slender young woman with short chestnut-colored hair and eyes warm like mocha, was particularly popular--to try to woo them and coax them into a dance.

Perhaps on any other day, MC would have rolled her eyes and tutted softly, disappointed in their fawning and flattery. Today, however, she felt… softer. More in touch with her emotions.

Emotions that she had feared had disappeared into thin air, vanished as she drowned in the duties and obligations of her station, without a chance to fantasize or dream like she had done as a child.

The princess wasn’t normally one to take advantage of her station, but as she stepped forward, heels clacking against the tile ground, the crowd seemed to part ways before her. Out of reverence, out of fear, or out of pity, she couldn’t be sure, but their motives were the least of her concerns. As long as she could reach her destination, her goal, the means didn’t matter.

“Excuse me, Cinderella?”

Silence befell the folks gathered around the grand actor, as the princess of the kingdom spoke. The actor himself looked somewhat startled, but he masked it well; MC could only detect a faint glimmer of apprehension flicker in his rich red eyes before it faded away and a smile settled onto his white lips. “Good evening, Princess,” he greeted MC with a wink. “Did you enjoy our show?”

Enjoy? That would be putting her feelings mildly. “I absolutely loved it,” she whispered, and then she cleared her throat. No point in being meek with her request-- she was determined to obtain exactly what she wanted. “In fact, I liked it so much,” she went on, tilting her shoulders back and lifting her chin to stare directly into his eyes, “that I have a request for you.”

He tipped his head to the side in confusion, causing his flowing white tresses to sway with the movement. Nevertheless he kept that same smile on his face. He then nodded firmly and asked with that little coy look in his eyes, “Of course. Anything for you, babe.”

Babe? Now that was a new one. MC could feel her face flushing as crimson as the actor’s eyes, but she tried to ignore it and hoped that he wouldn’t be so brash as to actually draw attention to it. Nobody would dare to tease the princess, right? “If I may be so bold as to tear you from your fans,” she began, “then might I ask Miss Cinderella for a dance?”

A new expression lit up those eyes, that pair of flames that stood out in stark contrast to the rest of his ashen features. Was he… surprised, flattered, bewildered, flustered, or…?

She couldn’t be sure, but despite whatever turmoil was burning in his eyes, he kept the rest of his expression level. In fact, the corners of his mouth twitched upward into a… smile?

“It would be my honor,” he told her with a wink and a bow at the waist.

“We haven’t much time left in the night, so to the dance floor, we shall make haste.”

And so he extended his hand, which MC graciously took with a squeeze.

To the center of the dance floor they scurried, where they could dance as they pleased.

With one hand on MC’s shoulder and the other resting right on her hip,

Cinderella led her across the floor, with a waltz, a twirl, and a dip.

The princess, for the first time, let herself give in to another’s demands.

She simply followed, losing herself to the feel of his step and his hands.

His grip was firm but gentle as he guided her to and fro ‘round the floor.

The princess could lose herself in his rhythm, dance with him forevermore.

His radiant ruby eyes matched the ribbon in his flowing, snowy hair,

But it was the warm smile on his face to which no gem could ever compare.

His statuesque features glimmered under the chandelier’s glorious light,

And as she took them in with her gaze, she knew she’d never forget this night.

As the music reached a crescendo, the actor pulled her close to his chest.

“Thank you, mademoiselle,” he whispered, and she felt her heart pound in her breast.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she told him, as she reached up to caress his face. “Thank you for making a world of magic and wonder in this humble space.”

He laughed at her words, and as he leaned in with his breath hot against her ear,

“Princess, you’re the one who made my night magical,” he whispered, “my dear.”

The chime of a clock tower suddenly boomed, and quickly they pulled apart.

Princess MC felt relief, as she struggled to steady her pounding heart.

The actor’s expression, however, had shifted from mirth to misery.

“They said they would return at midnight,” he murmured, “which has arrived, I see.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he lifted her hand and gave it a kiss.

“Thank you for this memory,” he told her, “and for a night I’ll truly miss.”

Then he dropped MC’s hand and dashed away to the entrance to the grand hall.

As he flew away like a frenzied dove, something from his outfit did fall.

Princess MC tried to scamper after him, but she was left in his wake.

Then she spotted the fallen accessory, which from the ground she did take.

A ruby-red ribbon, which matched the mysterious actor’s gorgeous eyes.

“I never got his name,” she said; his identity remained a surprise.

~~~

As soon as the sun rose the next morning, Princess MC followed suit. She knew that she had to hurry after that actor in fast pursuit. What if he belonged to a traveling troupe and they’d be gone by the end of the day? Princess MC knew she could not allow the object of her affections to get away.

With any luck, he was still somewhere within the territory, but she would have to act fast. The princess carefully scrutinized the team of knights she had amassed. She told them, “We’re searching for a young man with hair and skin fair.” Then she lifted the ribbon: “With eyes the same color as this ribbon,” she declared.

Near and far, to and fro, the princess’s team began to search. They checked the shops, the plazas, the gardens, the parks. They asked residents, merchants, children, adults--anyone who might have a hint. Every now and then, the princess would find someone who looked vaguely reminiscent of her prince, but as soon as she lifted the ribbon to their hair, she would just shake her head and sigh; his hair would be too dark or his eyes too brown. What was it about her Cinderella that made him so… ethereal? Someone that beautiful must have been a mistake from God, an accident that wasn’t supposed to bless mortal eyes.

Here and there, high and low, the princess’s team continued their quest as the sun traveled overhead. They had left at the first pink and orange streaks of dawn, carried on as the burning bright sun hovered directly overhead, and now they were finally allowing themselves to take a rest as the sun grew ever closer to the horizon once more.

Could the troupe possibly have left town? That thought kept creeping into the back of her mind, and she desperately tried to push it away, push it down, push it… somewhere else. She couldn’t afford to let such doubts sneak up on her, or she couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t give in to her despair and cease her search altogether. This Cinderella, her first glimmer of light, her first ray of hope, in days, weeks, months. While her life as a princess was entirely different from Cinderella’s, who was practically a slave in her own home, MC could relate to the feeling of being trapped in one’s duty, being trapped by one’s circumstances, being trapped by one’s family, being… a bird with clipped wings.

This actor had given her the power to fly again.

“Your Highness,” one of the knights murmured to her as they rested for a minute underneath the overhanging shade of an oak. “May we take a moment’s respite? Most of us haven’t eaten since the morrow,” he asked tentatively. He looked full of trepidation, which only served to send pangs of guilt emanating from within her chest.

“Of course,” she told him with a feeble smile. “Let us find some food or drink to sustain us, alright? I wish to keep searching until the sun goes down, but…” Her gaze flickered to the sky, and even though the colors of the sunset were unobscured in the clear sky, she could feel dark clouds beginning to rumble in over her heart. “I’ll go fetch something,” she offered, barely suppressing a sigh. “It’s the least I can do,” she insisted quickly, before her knight could open his mouth to object. With a reluctant but firm nod, he watched as MC walked away, in search of a cheap, quick bite. They could feast upon their return to the castle, but candidly… as twisted as her heart and stomach were right now, the princess didn’t have much of an appetite.

This was a part of town with which the princess didn’t have much familiarity-- while the constant growth of her city was definitely a welcome sight, since she hadn’t ventured out of the castle too often recently, she found herself a little confused and disoriented by the unexpected developments. Had that shop always been there? What about these homes?

Exhausted, distressed, and admittedly hungrier than she had initially realized, MC nearly began to weep with joy as the sudden scent of batter wafted up to her nose. A freshly baked bun, calling for her, crying her name, luring her person. What delectable treats had she almost passed? What delicious delicacies were waiting in the middle of the street?

MC followed her nose and her soul, yearning to fill every one of her senses with whatever this mysterious morsel may be.

Her surprise upon reaching a humble little stall in a side alley was, to say the least… significant.

‘Don’t judge a book by its cover,’ she chided herself gently as she neared the stall, although anxiety began to tug at her and drag her feet. ‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’

Sometimes, gifts came in the least expected places. That actor had been a surprise to her last night, after all. Maybe this snack--a fish-shaped bun, judging from the sign--would be a pleasant surprise as well.

Nothing could have prepared MC for the surprise that awaited her as the customer in front of her turned around, though.

Glittering white hair, like sunkissed snow.

Pale, translucent skin, with a gentle white glow.

Above all, the element that caught her by the most surprise,

Was this young man’s resplendent ruby-red eyes.

With a gasp, she immediately began to shuffle around in her satchel for the ribbon. “E-excuse me,” she stammered, “but… have you… lost this?” Her hands trembled as she pulled the little accessory out of her bag, but judging from the way his mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide, he was equally as stunned as she was. Nervously she reached up to brush a feathery lock of hair from his face; his hair was pulled back in a ponytail, so she couldn’t be exactly sure that this was the same man who had enchanted her last night.

As if on cue, he put down his bag of fish-shaped buns and pulled his hair out of the hairtie, allowing it to cascade around his shoulders and tumble down his back.

As if that hadn’t already confirmed her suspicions, MC lifted the ribbon and placed it gently in his hair. In the glow of the setting sun, its scarlet hue shone vividly, perfectly matching the sparkle in his eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, princess,” he murmured, and a shy smirk played onto his lips. “Have you been… looking for me?”

MC felt a coy grin tug on the edges of her mouth as well, but the salty tears that were beginning to sting the corners of her eyes were probably ruining the effect. “Only for my entire life,” she breathed.

A Cinderella who dared to dream.

A princess who dared to wish.

Their fates overlapped by chance,

But were now sealed with a bean-flavored kiss.

This is my piece with @/watereddowncoffee on instagram for the @mysme-rbb! I hope you enjoy our fairy tale!

[peachyteabuck]

eating a heart in a marketplace

summary: "[C]ommunion doesn’t need to be holy. Or even decent." -  THOMAS C. FOSTER 

After one of Tony’s men injures one of yours, he must present a peace offering in order to keep his black market distributor business afloat. 

Good news: you accept the gift. 

Bad news: the gift is Thor.

pairing: Thor Odinson x Reader

words: 5,863

trigger warnings: dubcon ig, humiliation, heavy d/s dynamics, mentions of canon-level violence, use of gags, collars, basically kidnapping, dehumanization (sexual and nonsexual)

notes/other: this fic is entirely self-indulgent and i am anticipating sequels bc i .... love it.  enjoy!

sk box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The obnoxiously long, dark oak table lays mostly bare, the only places set are the ones at each end of the exquisitely made piece of furniture.

The pink, sheer robe you’re wearing does nothing to hide the matching baby pink lace lingerie, just as the equally feminine heels donned with a strip of pink puff across the base of the toes would do nothing to protect your perfectly manicured feet from the harm of the eerie storm raging outside. Still, the garments and accessories are not meant to be something that cover you up, keep you warm, help you run from danger; they’re tools, tools you’ll hopefully use to get your way as the final meal of the evening approaches.

The entire event is set up just the way you want, with your makeup setting just as expected; the pig roasted to perfection, the pasta firm to the touch, the carrots and broccoli steamed until palatable, the champagne chilled. Most important, though, was the arrival of your guest. At exactly 6:05, your head butler comes in to notify you of the car pulling in front of your expansive home. With the wave of your hand she’s instructed to let the man come in, allow your rival to step into the palace you’d constructed for yourself when you’d risen to the top of your organization.

Well, maybe “rival” is the wrong word. “Rival” implies an active dislike or struggle, when in reality you two operate in separate spheres of influence.

“Companion,” though, seems too friendly.

As the distinct sounds of footsteps filter through the grand hall and into your study, the man you’ve decided to call “fellow leader” steps into sight. His fine pressed suit, dry as the Sahara desert, smiles as you come into his view.

“Ah, my favorite mob woman.” His eyes seems more sinister than you expected. You attribute it more to the dark tones of the evening rather than actual malice.

“Stark,” you say with a curt nod. You go up to exchange a kiss on each cheek, heart racing with the anticipation of what’s to come, excitement increasing with each step. “Come, we have a wonderful meal prepared for you.”

Anthony doesn’t protest, simply accepts a glass of Scotch a maid hands to him and follows you into the dining room. He chuckles a bit at the display you’ve put on, but doesn’t say anything outright. You two have enough respect for the other not deny their counterpart the joy of a dramatic display. He simply sits, the pig placed in the middle of the table large enough to be an obvious sign of wealth but not too big as to deny the two of you eye contact.

Small talk is exchanged as the meal is served, biscuits placed, and pork cut into thick slabs. Vegetables placed delicately on plates and napkins placed on laps. You ask how Pepper is doing, he asks if the dress you had handmade from some extravagant designer turned out how you wanted. Half your plates are clear before either of you truly start to converse.

You’re the first to break the silence as Anthony begins on his mashed potatoes. “I appreciate your understanding of the deal. I’m not a fan of bloodshed, and the demonstration at the club that night are something I wish to forgive and forget as soon as possible.”

Anthony nods, speaking around a bite of the creamy starch. “I agree. Odinson’s actions were inappropriate, wildly and unpredictably so. In truth, I’ve thought he was a liability since he joined, but I never thought he’d lash out like that.”

As you slice through a particularly thick cut of meat, your fork slips and scraps against the china. Both of your winkles your noses at the grating sound.

“Yes,” You pause to chew. “cutting off Barnes’ arm during a bar fight does seem a little…” The bite of biscuit you had gotten was just perfect, the equal amount of butter and brown sugary, apple flavor from the pork together. God, you really do love a good meal. “Rash.”

Your guest hums in agreement. He then clears his throat, preparing to talk. “To symbolize my apologies, I have brought you the gift we spoke of earlier,” he pauses, raising his left hand just above his elbow and bending his first two fingers forward. You sit up, intrigued.

As the large French doors behind him open, from the dark depths of your hallway comes the man who scarred your oldest friend for life, cost you hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills, and has put your best hitman out of commission. He’s tall, fills the doorway like a key in a lock. His scruff thick and dark, bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.

Something deep in you stirs, and squeezing your thighs together does nothing to stop it.

Thor Odinson is clad in a suit, as most of Stark’s enforcers are. Though, the handcuffs keeping his hands behind his back are new.

“Interesting addition,” you note, staring at his straining arms in the expensive fabric.

Anthony doesn’t give any indication that he hears, let alone cares, about your sarcastic comment. “I’m assuming this” he gestures to the man. “Will put me back in good spirits with you and the rest of your crew?”

Odinson walks to your side, head hung in shame and hair tied in a tight bun as his former employer speaks. He knows what he’s in for now, has been told in so many words he is now something less of a person – and it’s obvious this has put him to shame.

You consider it – think about letting all that happened go with a simple olive branch. Before you can do that, though, you must make sure that the merchandise lives up to the promises on the box.

“Down,” you command. Immediately, he drops to his knees. You smirk, dragging your baby pink nails down his stubbled jaw.

“Oh, yes. This will do just fine, Stark. Just…fine.” The last two words are long, almost forgetting to finish them as your mind travels to all the things you could do with him.

Anthony smirks. “Perfect. I’m assuming business with resume as usual?”

Your fingers stroke at the sides of Thor’s face and trace around the shell of his ear. “Of course. I’ll call the appropriate people later. Everything should be up and running by midnight.”

Suddenly Anthony tenses, his fingers moving to fidget with his tie. “If I may-”

“You may,” you tell him, not meeting his eyes.

Anthony audibly gulps, fidgeting in his seat and with his tie. “That’s quite late, that’s hundreds of millions of dollars that we’ll miss out on if we-”

You hold up your hand flat while your gaze remains locked on your new toy. “That’s the earliest I can assure you. Whether or not it happens before that is,” you stop to try and feed Thor a small bite of carrot from your hand. He hesitates but accepts after a few moments, plucking the orange vegetable with beautiful teeth and a gentle bite. He doesn’t make eye contact like you originally wanted, but this is a good start.  “Not guaranteed.”

Anthony knows that you’re stubborn, much too stubborn to be moved away from your current stance. He’s done all that he can do to sway you, and now whatever income he hopes to make between now and the end of the day depends on Thor.

In short, Anthony Stark Junior (and his bank account) are royally, utterly fucked.

As he leaves your home he can hear you call to your head servant to tell Customs and Border Patrol to let his packages in (an assured start to him not losing a fortune), but he still wrings his hands as he slides into the backseat of his solid black Escalade. As the partition opens to reveal the man at the wheel, the thought of angry text messages from smugglers trying to get their goods into the States flash in front of Stark’s bloodshot eyes.

His driver, Happy, notices the fellow man’s anxiety as he looks at his boss through the rearview mirror.

“You think Odinson is gonna be okay, boss?” He asks, sort-of worried but mostly focused on filling the deafening silence in the expensive car. Money can buy a lot of things, but it can’t fill the awkward spaces in conversation that always come post-transaction.

Tony just laughs, typing something into his watch. “Of course not. That woman is going to chew him up and spit him out by the end of the fiscal year.”

Happy chews at his bottom lip. That’s two weeks from now. “You really think it’s gonna be that quick?”

“Probably,” Tony shrugs. “She’s never been known for mercy.”

The other man nods, quiet as he makes his way to the Stark residence. The quiet, cold night air strikes the mobster as he steps out of the car; the sharp grass smells fills his sense and bloodstream, calming him as he steps into his home. Pepper’s at the counter, stirring something in a pot. She doesn’t turn around when she hears his footsteps, but knows he’s somber nonetheless.

“Hard day at the office?” She asks, giving him a small taste of the homemade alfredo sauce.

Tony snorts, moving to lick at the wooden spoon. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around her waist. She’s in one of his t-shirts and sleep shorts, the soft material comforting him. “You could say that.”

You only make good decisions when you’re in a good mood, and right now said mood depends on Thor Odinson - a man so insecure he once got himself tortured just because his captors told him he couldn’t take it. The man is a stubborn, uncontrollable mess with an anger issue to rival that of Lyssa, or a lighting on a field of dried grass.

He was feared within the Nest and by the lower Excidium members, but he didn’t make palms sweat and hands shake and hearts beat faster quite like you do.

No one fucks with you because you’ve very appropriately placed yourself on a pedestal based on madness, control, and desire for power. Thor’s just feared because he’s a dumbass with a short fuse. It’s the difference between a forest fire and a crazy, drunken uncle holding a lighter; one you can try and prevent, coax it into submission and run away if necessary. The other? More unstable than Francium.

(At least you know that thing’s only going to last twenty-two minutes, though. At least it’s predictable in its instability.)

Back inside, you’re more than ecstatic to have a new plaything. You were fully prepared to let the kid’s behavior slide, especially since the Nest brings in a hefty amount of revenue. But if Tony wants to give up a weak link, you’ll gratefully treasure the broken piece of steel you picked up from the gravel.

Thor stays like that, on his knees and eating out of your hand, for so long his legs fall asleep. You spend the rest of the night chatting at nobody, talk to him like he’s an old, deaf cat who just remains in your favor because he’s soft to pet and is cute. You sign some deals, check the language of some proposed treaties, write your to-do list for the next day all at the dinner table. Thor only dares to look at you when you’re too busy conversing with maids or chastising someone who works under you or any time your head is turned enough that he can make out the scar that runs from behind your left ear to the back of your neck.  

Your form, the way you speak, he’s obsessed with his chance finally take it all in.

He hasn’t seen you in person before, just heard rumors and conspiracy theories and whatever else people spend their time making up about you. Thor always passed it off as fiction, simply inflating the higher-ups to pass the time. Everything about you, though, seems exceptionally true. Maybe even underestimations. It’s true you walk around your house in matching lingerie sets, possibly a robe if it’s breezy. The East Coast heat can be unexpectedly warm, but as the sun sets on the July day he can see goosebumps rise across your soft skin and the shivers that sometimes shake your spine. Your house fits all the descriptions he’s heard, too. The decor seems almost welcoming, faded oranges and pastel pinks and dull whites and baby blues and mustard yellows. Plush, velvet furniture the same deep magenta, mirrors trimmed in what Thor can assume is real gold.

It’s like a scene from Mean Chicks or whatever those 2000s teen movies are. If one of those movies took place in the home of an incredibly powerful mobster, it’d look like this.

“What do you think, pet?”

Oh shit. Thor was supposed to be listening, wasn’t he? When he looks up, Bucky Barnes (the man who called him a pussy and “Stark’s whore,” prompting him to grab one of the decorative - but still fully functional - swords from the wall of the bar they were in and just...slice away at his tormentor), Steve Rogers (who looks like the human version of a sugar cookie while specializing in torture) , and Sam Wilson (a sarcastic little shit who knows exactly how to get anything past the feds) are all staring down at him. Barnes’ left arm (stub? It’s mostly just stub now) is still bandaged, but he’s at least walking now. Thor was told he might die from blood loss, but no. Thor Odinson would never be that lucky.

“They never listen, do they?” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you shift to face them. None of the men sit, knowing they won’t be there long. Plus, they get a much better angle of Thor’s tortuous position while standing.

“You don’t think that deserves punishment?” Steve asks, a smile curling at the sides of his mouth that speaks volumes.

You shrug, not looking at him. “Later. Now I want you to donate fifty thousand to the Vermont special elections. I need that entry point into Canada or else there’s no way we can get out shipments into that garbage country in a timely manner. Also,” you turn to Sam, whose eyes are caught staring between Thor’s left upper ribs. “Call CBP. Stark held up his end of the deal, I have to hold up mine.”

All three of them huff, both at the large sum of cash you’re about to give to a twenty-something know-nothing frat guy who knows nothing about politics but everything about being open to bribes and about them not being able to watch the man they hate become the most embarrassed version of himself in front of the man he tried to kill and his two best friends.

Whatever. The trio’s time for revenge will come, you promised them that - promised Bucky when he was in the ICU that you would find the man that did this and would make them pay.

Bucky has never known you to break a promise.

When the three leave you and Thor, you raise your left arm high flick your wrist towards the large doors. Understanding the cue, your maids wordlessly close them to seclude you from whatever responsibilities you were intending on dealing with tonight. Whatever it is, was, can wait until tomorrow, can wait until you’ve begun Thor’s assimilation into your home.

There’s a moment of quiet, of stillness in the house before Thor hears the sounds of several pairs of footsteps – maybe four, he counts – that enter the large dining room with haste. He’s quickly escorted down a long hallway and up a winding set of stairs. Thor can’t see much as he’s rushed away, and the little he can make out is a baby blue wallpaper with gold patterns etched into it, and fine paintings that appear sporadically on the walls. Some are black and white with abstract patterns, others depictions of angels, a few featuring intricate designs that resemble the sky and sea.

It feels like a forever before Thor is slammed down onto the floor of your bedroom, his knees hitting the wood with a painful smack. Despite the earsplitting sound, he doesn’t wince, doesn’t even flinch as his hair is pulled back by one of the maids so he’s forced to look at you. As you gaze upon him he bares his teeth; you can see fire behind his eyes. What a cutie, you muse to yourself.

“Wrists,” you instruct. Another maid moves behind him with dusty pink rope, securing his wrists together behind his back. “Legs,” you tell them next. Thor is easily flipped onto his back, arched at an uncomfortable angle because of his arms. Just as quickly as before, his legs are tied so that his calves and the backs of his thighs meet. When he’s flipped back up, all he can see is you smiling devilishly. “I’ll do the rest myself ladies. Go ahead and take the night off, I want him all to myself.”

“Yes ma’am” they respond in unison, Thor unable to see their hurried steps but understanding that when he hears the door closing behind them, he’s completely and utterly alone.

For a moment you two just stare at each in silence, his nostrils flaring and chest rising from anger and adrenaline. He heaves as you calmly gaze upon him, pissing off your captive even more. All Thor can do is react while you stand there, stationary and speechless.

Within a few moments, he’s lashing out to break the painful quiet. “This fucking sucks,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “That Barnes fucking deserved that shit, you know? He’s a whiny bitch that gets into shit he doesn’t belong in. I bet he’s fucking compensating for something, ya know? He’s not even a big enough man to come at me himself, needs his master to do his bidding ‘n shit. Why the fuck am I ever here anyway, do you go through boytoys so fucking often you just steal them so that you don’t have to pa-“

You roll your eyes, shoving three fingers into his mouth. Thor looks more confused than anything else, but he does immediately stop talking. Good, exactly what you wanted.

You two stay like that, your jaw tightened with one eyebrow raised – daring him to defy you - and him looking up at you like a puppy who’s just pissed on the carpet in defiance. “Listen, you little brat. I used to babysit for twenty dollars an hour. I put myself through grad school twice on money from too-rich white-ass parents who couldn’t control their kids so they pawned them off to underpaid college kids. I got here because I worked for it, dealing with men much more powerful than you acting like children. If you think for a fucking second that I will tolerate this behavior in my house, under my roof, then you are wrong. Very wrong. Do you understand me?”

Thor’s eyes narrow, and though he doesn’t bite, he does press his teeth into the skin of your first knuckle. It’s enough to keep your attention entirely on him, eyes locked on his as you throw your phone onto the bed next to you. You know this game, and you know breaking first would mean he has some sort of holding over you. Unblinking, you stay silent as he swallows around your fingers.

The tension in the air is thick; it’s nothing you can’t handle, nothing you aren’t used to. Thor is the first one to surrender, looking down at your baby pink stilettos. “Good boy,” you huff, moving to open a drawer that conveniently sits just within arm’s reach. You withdraw you hand from his mouth but don’t move to wipe his spit from your fingers. Thor can’t see anything you’re doing, but does hear a smaller (and less used, judging by the squeaking noise it makes as you open it) drawer open, the sound of a little bell, and then the loud scraping of both drawers closing on top of each other and hitting the back of the structure that holds it.

“Head up,” you command. “Look at me.” Thor’s hesitant but ultimately obeys. His eyes widen as he sees the items in your hand. The first is a simple, black ball gag and the other a frilly, pink collar with a small bow and equally tiny bell at the front center. In the back, an adjustable metal clip.

The gag is slipped on first, the uncomfortably large sphere blocking any searing remarks from leaving his lips. As spit pools below his tongue and from the corners of his mouth, all he can do is growl low in his throat.

Despite your long, pointed nails you open the clasp of the collar with ease, flashing it close to your captive’s face like an owner showing a dog his new restraint. Thor may be your pet, and you may be his rightful owner, but the move isn’t one that builds trust. It’s one that makes his insides curl, because it’s a demonstration of how much power you have over him. Look at this thing, the gesture conveys. Do you understand now? You’re mine. Everyone will know that. Everyone will know what you did. This is your retribution.

“Are you gonna shut up now?” Thor doesn’t move, but he also doesn’t make any disgruntled noises. “Good. Now, let me make myself clear, since it appears you do not know the terms of Stark’s and my agreement; Stark settled to give me the man who permanently injured one of my best men in exchange for my forgiveness of the entire event. That means two things. First, Stark gets the money he needs from my business in order to remain powerful. Second, I get to do whatever I want to you. Understand?”

Thor’s eyebrows furrow. What do you want to do to him?

“For now, though, I am going to untie you and go to bed, because I am tired, and it has been an exhausting day. Got it?”

Thor nods.

“Good.”

He flinches as you kneel down to his level and begin to untie him from the complicated binds. Your fingers move with purpose, your nails occasionally scraping across his electrified skin. With his body uninhibited, he flexes his fingers as to examine the indents in his flesh.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “Those will go away by morning.”

Somehow, he doesn’t believe you.

He spends the night on the cold wooden floor, occasionally making a desperate attempt to fit himself on the tiny plush pink carpet that the dresser rests on. Thor doesn’t get much shut-eye, time either spent shivering or trying to plan for survival. He can’t escape, it’s been made very clear that both Excidium and the Nest will both be hunting him down if he so much as pisses where he’s not supposed to. It seems keeping his mouth shut, following orders, and taking whatever it is you want to put him through with whatever tiny amount of dignity he has left.

(As the night progresses, he realizes the last part will be the hardest).

When the world comes alive again, Thor remains mostly ignored. As the sun comes up and you awaken with your alarm, he barely gets so much as a brush of fabric as you pull off your white nightgown and slip into a pale-yellow sundress with a long, white cardigan. It’s much different than what you were wearing last night, but as you readjust the strap of your lacey white bra from its improper place on your shoulder, he guesses that was more show(wo)manship and a reiteration of hierarchies than an honest exchange between business partners.

As the first full day under your whim progresses, he’s left behind as you move to your office. You feel some time apart may be good for his insolence, even if his fierceness amuses you so.

You like a challenge, especially one you know you can win; a little tussle didn’t hurt anybody, has it?

You instruct one of the new recruits to buy you a dog bed – the largest one they can find – and you have it placed on the floor next to your bed so you can keep an easy eye on him throughout the day. Thor’s kept on a leash attached to the collar on his neck; the piece of leather is flimsy at best, but the man still refuses to break out of it for fear of punishment.  

There, on a large, baby pink pet meant for some Doberman or Pitbull or other bigass dog, he waits, ears perking up whenever someone, anyone steps into the room. But, while he craves human contact, the hushed voices of the maids that clean up the dirty clothes and make your bed make the hairs on the back of Thor’s neck stand in fear.

Natasha, lover, retribution.

Bucky, money, revenge.

Loki, trip, return.

He can’t tell which name fills him more with dread. Barnes is barely healed and full of rage at his injury, desperate for vengeance against the man that hurt him so. Natasha Romanoff is a woman that Thor has never truly met, only seen when Stark and you have business that requires some back up. Even so, the stories of her apathy and brutality need no introduction; once, she cut a dude’s dick off, made a wallet from the foreskin, and sent it to him while he was recovering in the hospital. She carries a switchblade in the inside of her bra. She only has red hair because the blood crusted onto it permanently stains the follicles.

And Loki…

Well, Loki and him have been estranged since they were both late teens. They’ve both had daddy issues since birth, and Loki’s so happened to manifest in a weird mix of picking up mercenary work, becoming a serial sugar baby, and wearing a lot of black. The last thing Thor would expect is for Loki to settle down for someone like you, a woman who requires loyalty of heart, mind, soul.

His thumping heart and terrifying internal monologue are interrupted by a maid, one he hadn’t yet seen, whose face scrunches up when she notices your absence from the room. She then sighs, and beckons two other maids – one pushing a cart filled with a small buffet of food, one carrying a cart with cutlery and dinnerware – through the threshold. The three of them stop at a bone-white desk, fretting about as they set up what Thor can only assume is a late lunch.

As you step into the bedroom – pushed through the doorway by the maid from before – Thor can tell you are less than happy.

You’re annoyed, to say the least. Can’t even tell why, really, can’t find an even barely comprehendible reason for you to be tearing through financial documents as if they were important family heirlooms that were on fire. No reason for you to snap at a recent recruit for misspelling the code name of a spy you had placed in the Nevada Supreme Court three courts back. Some madness bites at your skin as you nibble on small sandwiches and drink a large glass of cold sun tea, and Thor can tell it’s tearing you apart.

Thor can’t see much from the floor, but he can feel the electricity in the air as you scribble in a notebook that he guesses is where you plan all of your mob’s heinous activities. He wonders what your handwriting looks like, how you keep all the people you’re blackmailing straight, what kind of code you use. Stark keeps everything on paper as well, in a locked room inside of a secret room inside of his basement (well, maybe. Thor’s never been there, he’d never gotten high enough in the Nest to warrant being given access to such a space, but he’s heard the rumors).

It's about an hour later when the head butler from before, the one who led him, his (former) boss, and his (former) bosses men through your maze of a home, steps just into view of your tired eyes.

“Miss, you need a break,” she says simply.

You sigh, rubbing at the bridge of your nose and then your temples. Resting your head in one hand, you use the other to grant her permission to grab your paperwork. It’s only when she’s gather your things and left the room that you speak.

“She’s right,” you let out a small chuckle before sauntering over to the white dresser in the far corner of the room. “I do need a stress reliever.”

The man on your floor can’t see what you’re doing, his eyes only widening when you place the thickest, blackest dildo he’s ever seen into his view.

“Wh-“he starts to speak, trying but failing to push himself away from you. “What are you doing to do with that?”

You shrug, eyeing it up and down. “I don’t know. Could fuck myself with it…could fuck you with it…”

Thor’s stubbled face is beet red from embarrassment, even more so than when you made him kneel in the dining room or gagged him with your fingers.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little slut,” you hiss. When he doesn’t look up at you, you grab his chin and force his head back. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it wouldn’t be fun if he just gave in the second you put the tiniest bit of pressure on his overly-tough facade. “Tell me you love sucking my cock.”

But all Thor does is open his mouth wide as it can go and pushes his flattened tongue as far out of his mouth as it’ll go. He’s got this glimmer in his eyes and a smirk on his lips that tells you Thor knows what he’s doing, he knows he’s pushing every button he can think to push.

You’ve danced this routine before, though this time Thor’s much more confident, willing to push further, push harder.

“You want to be a brat?” You ask, begging him to give you a smartass response. “Then take it like one.”

With swift movements of your right leg he’s pushed flat on the ground, his back hitting the hardwood with a low thud. “Flip over,” you tell him. With an unfortunate lack of protest, he does, toned stomach settling onto the floor barely warmed by his back.

You climb over him, leg on each side and core pressed into him as you gather his hair in your first. “You’re such a fucking tease,” you hiss through grit teeth. Thor makes a similar – but more pained noise – as you wretch his head back. “Such a little tease, begging me to put him in his fucking place. If you wanted me to fuck you like you deserve, you should fucking ask for it next time.”

Smack, the deep sound of your callous hand hitting the soft flesh of his ass almost makes him flinch more than the pain. Smacksmack, two more, quicker this time.

“I’ve met little fucking brats before, but never like you,” you pull the rest of his clothes off with minimal protest. “Gotta get you cock drunk before you’ll figure out how arrangement of ours works, don’t I?”

Thor, with his eyes scrunched shut and mouth lax, says nothing in return.

Your hand reaches under him, hips lifting to provide a small space between him and the floor. He’s already hard, aching, leaking, and he moans brokenly when you wrap your hand around him.      

It’s rough, hurts more than it pleasures, but it still feels so, so good all the same. Thor almost wants to say so, too, but can’t make himself push the words from his throat.

“So easy to get you all fucked out isn’t it?” You whisper low in his ear. “So easy to break brats like you, makes me wanna make you cum and then leave you here for the rest of the night…”

The subsequent whine from Thor makes you laugh and push him harder into the floor. “But I won’t do that, can’t leave little things like you all alone, would be like leaving a baby bunny to a bunch of wolves.”

Thor doesn’t disagree, doesn’t try to build his demolished ego back up.

“Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart?” you purr, hand keeping a slow, torturous pace. “Doesn’t it feel good to be good?”

All Thor can do is squeak and push his face into the floor, trying to hide the deep redness in his cheeks.

For once, you don’t punish him. You want to, want to stop and make him beg for forgiveness for his nonanswer. Maybe tie him up and fuck him with your fingers until he’s ready for your biggest strap, pounding into him.

Oh, Babyboy, you’re being so good taking this whole cock inside of you, aren’t you? So good for your owner. I bet nobody’s ever fucked you this good.

Maybe you’ll tie him up, edge him until he’s sobbing. Wait until he’s just about to cum and pull a vibrator or your hand away – make him whine and tease him as his whole body twitches.

Are you not enjoying yourself, baby? Because it looks to me like you are. Look at those glassy eyes, do I need to slap you to make you pay attention?

Thor screams as he cums all over your floor, whole body tense then completely lax within the span of seconds. His breathing is loud enough to be heard across nations, each exhale laced with a small moan.

He cries, deep and low, when you climb off of him, tries to arch his spine into the nothingness that once held you.

“Shh,” you tell him. “Mommy’ll be back in a second.”

Thor seems to calm with that, heart still racing but head and body slumped.

When you come back, you hold a bit of salmon - small grains of buttery jasmine rice and cranberry sauce stuck to the pink meat. You’ve grasped it with three fingers – thumb, middle, point – and have it nearly pressed to Thor’s plush, pink lips. It’s still warm, dinner having  been served by the maids despite your absence from the dining room.

“C’mon baby,” you tell him. “You gotta eat sometime.”

Thor glares at you but knows you’re right – his already flat stomach howling in pain from lack of sustenance. Reluctantly, meekly, he pulls your fingers between his lips and swallows the soft food.

“Good boy,” you tell him. “See? Following directions isn’t that bad.”

Thor, for the first time in days, says nothing to the contrary.

 //

[marquiswrites]

White Christmas

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Reader, Tony Stark [Guest Appearance]

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader,

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1535

Warnings: FLUFF, small language

Author’s Notes: Written for @mypassionsarenysins for their  #mypassionsarenysins1k challenge! My prompt was “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby. This was super fun to write and gave me a chance at some sweet sweet fluff to balance out my usual Angst and Mystery categories. I hope that you enjoy! [also, nothing against Las Vegas for the people who live there, but I too live in a desert, and no snow on xmas is a sucky tradition]

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One hundred and ninety four days.  

That’s how long you and Bucky had been undercover in Las Vegas. Trying to catch out a Hydra base that was somewhere in this miserable desert. It was far too cold for the fact that there was absolutely not a single snowflake in sight. 

You pouted once more, leaning over the balcony of the hotel suite that they had put the both of you in. Under the guise of foreman overseeing the construction of yet another Casino and hotel. It gave you both reason enough to be in the city for as long as you had been, and to chat up the other managers and foreman. But you had made little to no headway on figuring out whether the intel was good. 

And now here you both were, on Christmas eve, in weather more suited to fall or even late summer. Clear and dry.

After so long on the east coast, or even the occasional trips to Europe, it was depressing. To put it plainly. And to make it all worse, you were with the one Avenger who couldn’t stand to be around you for more than a few minutes at a time if you weren’t actively working. 

You and Bucky made a good team, Natasha’s training had helped you to come far in hand to hand combat since your first days with the team; and your enhanced ability made Bucky an absolute force of nature, strength and endurance expanded even past the capabilities of the super soldier serum, with absolutely no side effect due to the increased healing component. You worked well together, and your histories with Hydra helped you to understand each other on a level that none of the rest of the team shared. 

But he also absolutely refused to acknowledge your existence half the time. Maybe it was because he was finally regaining memories, maybe because it was of the fact that you had grown up a Hydra Princess for the first half of your childhood, privileged compared to how he was tortured. Likely it was just because that was how he was. Reticent with most of the crew, except for Sam and Steve. 

And you were so desperately in love with him that it hurt. Sending flutters through your chest every time your gazes met. Your mouth ran dry with his every smile, though it was usually saved for when you were actively on the job, a facade, no matter how real it looked.

Now you were stuck with each other on Christmas. 

Happy holidays to you.

You tucked your hand against your cheek. Sighing to yourself once more as you watched the lights of the Strip. You were far enough away that the noise fell away across the desert, so much quieter than anything that you were used to. 

Which made it worse that you didn’t realize Bucky had joined you on the deck until he was clearing his throat. “If you want, you can always go and do somethin’. I’m not about to make you miss christmas just cause Stevie’s got a stick up his ass about this case.”

Jumping out of your skin, you whipped around to find Bucky leaning against the open sliding glass door. Shirtless. 

Which made you lose all ability to form words until it was almost too awkward to pick the conversation back up. 

“You alright there, killer?” A raised brow suddenly brought you back to your senses. 

“Uh yeah… just got caught up in my head.” Lifting a hand to rub at the back of your neck, shrugging slightly while you flicked your tongue against your lips. “But… what do you mean?”

Bucky chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair to push it back from his face. Possibly the most distracting habit that he had, well, the second most distracting at any case. “I mean if you got plans for the holiday. Go and catch a show. Get some drinks. Ice skate. Don’t have to be cooped up in here with me the whole time. Sad way to spend christmas, Doll.”

“I don’t mind. I mean… Everything is probably packed anyways, and there’s no snow or anything. Doesn’t really feel like Christmas, you know?” Shrugging once more as your gaze dropped. Missing the way that Bucky frowned at you. 

“Yeah, guess that’s right. I’ll leave you to it then.” Bucky pushed himself off of the door jam, turning back inside. Leaving you with a growing pit in your chest. That niggling of anxiety that you tried to ignore most of the time. Resigning yourself to spending the rest of your evening out here, avoiding him in the hopes of keeping you from making a fool out of yourself. 

It was quickly approaching midnight as you finally pushed off from the balcony, shuffling your way back inside the hotel room. Trying to keep quiet so you didn’t wake Bucky. 

The only reason that you stayed out this long was to try outlasting the man’s seemingly incurable insomnia. Making it to the door of your room, pulling it open just to freeze as you caught sight of Bucky sitting on the edge of your bed. “You’re up late.”

You wet your lips and huff a laugh. “Says the man who never sleeps.”

“Did enough of that in Cryo. Come on, have something I want you to see.” Bucky stood, offering you your heaviest jacket and a pair of boots. Leaving you tilting your head up to him in confusion. 

“Umm… I mean…”

“Doll, trust me.”

You wanted to tell him that you trusted him with your life, but those weren’t words that you said to people who couldn’t stand your company for more than five minutes. Instead just nodding dumbly. Slipping your feet into the boots, and the jacket over your arms. Watching as Bucky pulled out a blindfold, then swallowing tightly as he tied it around your eyes. “We’ll be there in just a few moments.”

It certainly felt like more than a few moments before you felt the car stopping. Listening for the opening of Bucky’s door, then the way it shut. Your own door opening, with a hand reaching gently from yours to lead you from it. 

“I hope you know how very kidnappy this feels.”

“Don’t worry, Doll, if this is kidnapping, it’s the gentlest I’ve ever done.”

“Buck… That really, really doesn’t ease any of my concerns.” You manage to laugh as he guides you through what you are assuming in a parking lot. Ears straining as you caught the unlatching of a door, lifting a hand to feel the edge of it to confirm your thoughts. 

“Smart, Doll, but stop cheating.” The warm laugh comes once more, bringing a heat to your cheeks. Warm in comparison to the sudden chill creeping along your skin. No wonder that he had  wanted you to wear the coat. Your brow furrowing in confusion. Then wetting your lips as he moved to untie the knot at the back of your head, gently pulling the cloth from your eyes. 

When you open your eyes, you can feel your breath catch in your throat. You heart skipping several beats as you stare out at the ice rink. Completely covered in snow from a machine blowing it in from one corner of the room. “But… how?”

“Made a call to Stark.” You can feel him shrug from where he stands just behind you, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. Sending chills up your spine. 

“But… why?”

“Because you deserve a White Christmas, Doll. And if I can do that for you, even if just for this one night, then I’m damn well gonna make it happen.” 

In a sudden flurry of emotion, you twist on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your lips finding his in a desperate sort of gentleness, not caring how he might pull away at any second. Not caring that this might ruin any hope of him reciprocating those feelings. Just needing to express how much it meant that he would do this for you. 

And then slowly melting in his arms as he met your kiss in return. A hand moving to cup the back of your head while his free arm slipped around your waist. Cradling you in place against him. Keeping you there, lips gently sliding across yours, for what felt like an eternity before he was pulling back to grin almost shyly. 

“Well… if I had known it only took a bit of snow for you to notice me…”

You blink up at him before your forehead thuds against his shoulder. “We’re such idiots…”

“Yeah you both are, now get out there and enjoy the snow before they have to open this back up to the public. And turn off your coms next time old man.” Stark’s voice suddenly rings out across the loudspeaker system as a spotlight lands on you both. Leaving you and Bucky to both groan with embarrassment before bursting into a quiet sort of laughter. Bing Crosby’s classics gently filtering through the air as your gaze meets Bucky’s once more. 

“Come on, Doll, let’s go enjoy our white christmas. Together.”

[lalainajanes]

I picked some of my faves from the prompt lists I reblogged earlier. This one is based on: “I came to your house for a sleepover but you weren’t here your house was trashed and when I found you again the next day you were naked and without any recognitions of what had happened” werewolf au because I am a sucker for a wolf!fic.

Under The New Sun

Klaus has come prepared and approaches Caroline’s front door armed with coffee (black for him, caramel syrup laden monstrosity for her). He’s also got bag full of donuts because he’s planning on starting a difficult conversation he figures Caroline might find ‘By the way, I’m a werewolf’ easier to swallow if she’s stuffed with sugar and chocolate.

It was overly optimistic, a sure sign of Caroline’s effect on him. And while he wasn’t banking on her taking the news without blinking he did rather think she was fond enough of him to keep an open mind. They’d known one another for months now, surely she’d accept him? That’s what he’d been telling himself. Truthfully, he hadn’t allowed himself to contemplate a world in which she couldn’t be won over. Caroline had come to mean a great deal to him and Klaus wasn’t one to let go of people he considered his.

He come to assume it was part of his nature though he’d had very little contact with other werewolves.

Klaus glances up when he reaches the porch, his muscles locking as he takes Caroline’s open front door. The coffee and the food hit the pavement, immediately forgotten, and he takes the steps at a near sprint, panic clawing at him.

He barreling through the doorway and calling her name, doesn’t even wince as the door slams into the wall. His alarm grows as he takes in the mess inside. He’s been a frequent visitor to Caroline’s home these last few months. Initially it had been pristine, the sort of clean that you’re afraid to eat in for fear of marring it. She’d relaxed as they’d gotten to know one another, left things slightly askew – a hamper of laundry left out here, an untidy stack of magazines there - and Klaus has spent many an evening comfortably eating takeout and arguing about Netflix selections in Caroline’s living room.

Something that’s going to be difficult to do again given the state of the place.

Caroline’s couch is on its side, wood frame exposes and split, spilling stuffing across the wood floors. The coffee table and rug are shoved across the room and it looks like the wall’s been dented from the impact. Her bookshelf hadn’t survived either and there’s a mass of planks and books and dvds strewn about.

It takes him a second to be able to think straight, the terror tightening his chest difficult to breathe through. When he does his other senses, sharper than a human’s, clue him into what had happened. There’s a distinct scent in the air, that of a wolf other than him, and nothing underneath it to suggest that anyone unfamiliar to Klaus has been in the room recently.  His fear shifts, changes, a heavy dose of dread sinking into him.

He’d never meant to scratch her, had been so relieved when it seemed like she’d remained unafflicted. He loathes that he’d been wrong, that he’d missed the signs at that she must have been dealing with changing on her own. He remembers how awful that had been, how confused and scared he’d been waking up alone with blank spaces in his memory and odd impossible images where the previous hours should have been. It’s gotten better, he’s learned to manage the pain of changing, can focus in his wolf form enough to process what’s happening and remember it later. If he hadn’t he might never have met Caroline while capable of standing on two feet and carrying on a conversation. And that would have been a tragedy. He hadn’t set out to save a damsel in distress that first night. Caroline had been on a camping trip (a girl’s weekend, he’d later gleaned, organized by her friend Elena who was fond of nature based pursuits) and had taken a midnight swim. She’d been caught in a riptide, only managing the faintest alarmed gurgles as she fought the currents. Klaus, in wolf form, had jumped in without a thought. She’d struggled at first and he’d bet that’s when he scratched her, but together they’d managed to get to safety. He’d waited long enough to see her cough up an alarming amount of lake water but, once he’d been assured she was breathing, he’d loped off into the woods.

He’d met her the next day at a gas station just outside of the national park Klaus preferred for full moons. They’d bickered over slurpees – Caroline seemed to think cramming every flavor into one cup was acceptable, Klaus disagreed – he’d learned her name, that she lived not far from him, all while her friends waffled over their snack selections.

He’d been able to engineer another meeting with a little careful Facebook snooping. It was only responsible, he’d told himself at the time. She’d been had a bandage on her arm and it was entirely possible he’d infected her.

He’d found her to be as engaging as she was lovely, hadn’t even considered terminating the friendship they’d struck up once a full moon seemed to have passed without incident.

And wasn’t that was fortunate now?

Giving the room one last once over Klaus spies the fleece blanket that usually sits along the back of the couch wadded up in a corner. He retrieves it, shakes it out as best he can, and tosses it over his shoulder. Klaus ignores the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, the shakiness of his limbs.

His anxiety isn’t important now, only Caroline is. He has no hope for acceptance, not when he’s ruined her life but he refuses to dwell on that. He’s got to find her and ensure that she’s safe. He’ll do his best to explain what he knows of werewolves, answer any questions she might have and, knowing Caroline, there’s an endless list.

Once he’s achieved that and Caroline’s home, fed and warm, he’ll wallow in self-pity and recriminations over the knowledge that she hates him for what he’s done to her.

Caroline shifts, feels damp grass and various stones and twigs digging into her skin. “Ugh,” she groans, cracking her eyes open. “This part is always gonna suck.” 

The clearing is familiar, it’s not far from her house and she’d always thought it would make a killer romantic picnic spot. Now, waking up naked and filthy in the center of it, for the fourth time, she can’t really appreciate it’s picturesqueness in quite the same way.

Besides, while she actually has a decent picnic partner prospect she’s really going to need to figure out how to explain the recent freaky turns her life has taken before she makes a move. Hopefully in a way that wouldn’t lead him to run away screaming and never speak to her again.

Klaus was too damn observant for Caroline’s comfort and she’d been taking great pains to appear normal in front of him. She counted her bites of food, mindful of how it looked, and prayed her stomach wouldn’t give away her always starving state. She held her breath whenever he was too near so she wouldn’t be distracted by his scent. She did what she could to prepare, had taken to buying steaks in bulk so she could binge after he left. She did her best to fight the strange insistent urges she’d been having lately, pinched herself every time she considered climbing into Klaus’ lap and sinking her teeth into his skin until he wore her mark prominently.

They hadn’t even been on a date. Biting would totally freak him out. She needed to get a handle on things, figure out how the whole werewolf thing worked, before she even attempted to flirt with him. She’d noticed her senses sharpening incrementally each month, slight increases in her strength and stamina. Apparently that would continue but would eventually plateau. She just had to wait for it all to level out.

Patience wasn’t Caroline’s strong suit but she was determined. What if she broke him in the heat of the moment? Caroline would never forgive herself.

She pushes herself up, rolls her neck to the side and grimaces at the audible cracking of her bones. She gets to her feet easily, brushing off what she can, humming softly to herself.

The first time this had happened she’s been too bewildered to appreciate the afterglow of her impromptu nude nature fugue – the energy buzzing through her, making her blood rush and her skin tingle. Getting home that morning had been a bitch and she’d thanked her lucky stars that it had been a Sunday and her neighborhood deserted. Sneaking in through her back fence she’d been annoyed to find it broken, puzzled to see her glass of wine and tablet still on the lounge chair she’d settled into the previous night. After a stressful week she’d been happy to just veg, enjoy the summer night with a book that was a little on the trashy side. She’d remembered sipping that first glass but little after and the bottle was still mostly full when she’d checked it.

It was then, in familiar surroundings, that she’d taken note of how clear-headed she was. She’d felt like she could have brokered world peace, run a marathon and charmed her way into the pants of a famous Chris or two. She’d felt like Alice, had even muttered, “Curious and curiouser.”

A car engine had sounded somewhere on her block and she’d been jolted into action (and out of talking to herself like a crazy person), and Caroline had hurried inside, making a beeline for the shower. While lathering she’d kicked into planning mode, resolved to do some research, and made a mental not to make an appointment with her doctor on Monday.

She’d made up a story about blacking out and waking up outside and her doctor had ordered some tests. She’d passed each one with flying colors – her blood pressure was even down a little – and had walked out with a recommendation to try a sleep study if she found herself being troubled by nocturnal wanderings again.

When it had happened a second time Caroline had turned to the internet. And her google-fu was strong enough to open up a whole new world.

Werewolves, it turned out, were totally a thing. With a thriving Tumblr community and all sorts of secret message boards. She’d made some internet friends, skirted the ‘woe is me, I am a hideous monster cursed to wander the earth alone and unloved’ factions.

From what Caroline had experienced so far the pros outweighed the cons. She needs less sleep so her productivity is through the roof. She’s burning calories like an Olympic athlete without having to set foot in the gym, indulging in Ben and Jerry’s nightly. She’s been careful about planning her full moons, recognizing that she could easily hurt someone. Caroline didn’t want that, she been diligently meditating and hoped to be able to accelerate the process of learning control. In the meantime she’d called in a couple of tips about wolf sightings to animal control and they’d been posting bulletins warning hikers and campers to be cautious. She’d taken to hiking in her free time, scoping out signs other humans were around, found the areas closest to her house that were free of campfire and litter, enough so that she felt safe indulging in the urge to run free.

Last night had been a misstep, she’d cut it way too close, one that couldn’t happen again. Hopefully the pain of checking her credit card balance, after she replaced her trashed living room furniture, would serve as a reminder.

It’ll suck but hey, redecorating could be fun? Maybe she’d go for a bolder wall color. And Klaus was into art, teased her about the prints she’d had since college, so she could possible test the waters and finagle something pre-date like by getting him to offer to help her.

She couldn’t jump his bones just yet but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy his company.

A rustling in the distance causes Caroline to still and she darts over to the tree she’d stashed a few things in. The bundle is tied to a branch, tucked close to the trunk and she quickly rips it down, shaking out the hopelessly wrinkled sundress it contained.

She wasn’t exactly presentable but untidy was way better than naked when meeting strangers, right? Less crazy and alarming and unlikely to result in a call to the authorities.

Explaining a citation for public indecency to her mom was not something Caroline wanted to have to do. Once clothed she listens carefully, ducks down to yank up a couple wildflowers. She tucks a few behind her ear before glancing around for some more, mentally rehearsing words that will make her sound like a crunchy granola type (which would hopefully explain the lack of shoes). She’s got her back to the approaching person. She can tell from the footsteps that it’s just one, she’s not the least bit alarmed. Even before she’d become what she is now, stronger and faster and potentially more lethal than any human, she’d been well versed in self-defense courtesy of her parents.

Caroline’s relaxed, resumes humming, only the notes fade away as the approaching person’s pace quickens, she whirls when she feels them near her, eyes widening when she sees Klaus. He looks relieved, and scared and sad and about a dozen other things that she doesn’t have time to register before he’s touching her, hands urgent as they skim over her arms. He’s gentle, his eyes scanning over her critically, “You’re alright?” he asks, “No injuries?”

“I’m fine,” she tells him, confused. What was he even doing here? “What…”

Klaus tugs her into him, cupping the back of her neck and bending to rest his forehead on her shoulder. He mutters words of thanks, jumbled and reverent, before pulling back, his face tight with strain. “I am so, so sorry, love. I will do anything I can to make this better. I promise.”

Caroline’s confusion only grows. He’s tense against her, his expression filled with resignation. Her mouth falls open, a demand for an explanation on the tip of her tongue. “Klaus, what? Make what…”

Her questions fall away when she inhales, breath stuttering out in one big woosh. She has a lot of feelings about the way Klaus smells and she’s been careful not to think on them too deeply. She appreciates how he wears just the right hint of cologne, has come to love the way his scent lingers on her couch after they’ve been on a Netflix binge. It’s clean, a little earthy, equal parts comforting and prone to send little tendrils of need pooling in her belly.

It’s different today, all store bought fragrance absent. It’s just his skin, and Caroline knows. He’s like her.

She can’t break him.

She doesn’t even think about it, just lets her instincts guide her. Her hands have been hanging loosely at her sides, unsure of how to deal with the sudden, uncharacteristic, physical affection from Klaus. He’s always kept a careful distance between them, even when Caroline’s caught him checking her out. She gets it now. He’s been fighting the same desires she has.

Her hands reach out, sliding under fabric, searching for the heat of him. His muscles twitch under her palm, a ragged inhale ruffling the hair at her temple. “Caroline,” he rasps out, “What…”

She shakes her head, presses her mouth to his throat. She tastes his skin, humming with the pleasure of it, relishing the throaty noise Klaus makes. She nips, he jolts, his grip on her tightening even as she pulls away to look at him, “I want you. I want you so much and I didn’t think I could have you.”

He wants to argue, Caroline can tell, sees him try to fight the haze of need that’s washing over them.

She’s not willing to let him, not when her heart’s thrumming in anticipation and everything in her screaming that this is right. Her dress is easy enough to lose, as floaty and insubstantial as it is. A quick tug and the thin straps snap and it’s pooled around her ankles. Klaus grits out a harsh curse as she rubs against him, moaning as she seeks to get as close as possible, her nails digging into his back as her hips push against his.

When his teeth sink into her bare shoulder Caroline knows she’s won.

[finndujn256-blog]

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Stress is a natural part of our everyday lives. It can be triggered by any demand, from burning the midnight oil as well as getting embeded web traffic, to major life adjustments such as death, separation, or ailment. When you deal with a stressful circumstance, your pulse quickens, you take a breath faster, your muscles stressful, and also your mind utilizes more oxygen as well as enhances task.

You can't always avoid the stress in your life, yet you can find out to deal with it better. The National Institutes of Health suggests these steps: Establish top priorities: Decide what should obtain done as well as what can wait, and learn to claim no to brand-new tasks if you are bewildered. Stay in touch with people who can offer emotional as well as other assistance.

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Require time to do soothing tasks you delight in, such as analysis, yoga exercise, or gardening. Prevent residence on issues. Concentrate on what you have achieved, not what you have been unable to do. Exercise frequently. Simply 30 mins per day of modest walking can help enhance mood as well as lower stress. If you seem like you are utilizing medications or alcohol to deal, or are having suicidal thoughts, see a mental health professional or call the National Self-destruction Avoidance Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

Stress and anxiety! It affects the lives of over 65 million Americans. Even more than 5 billion dosages of depressants and sleeping tablets are taken in daily in the USA, in attempts to minimize its impacts. Thirty million Americans have actually been detected with severe anxiousness conditions such as panic, fears, as well as trauma.

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Are these people that, "just can not take it?" Possibly not. According to research study done by Juliet Schor, teacher of business economics at Harvard, the typical American is working 163 hours every year greater than she or he operated in 1970. That's another full month! If you are a management specialist, the numbers are also greater.

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There are lots of approaches of reflection, yet a straightforward one, adapted by Herbert Benson at Harvard University, is to merely shut your eyes, unwind, and repeat a word or phrase that you locate relaxing. It can be something scriptural like, "The Lord is my shepherd," or a word like "Relaxing." Benson found that this basic workout can have a measurable effect on stress-related signs such as heart price as well as blood pressure.

Words wa in Japanese symbolizes a problem of calmness as well as harmony where the mind and also the body are one. It takes initiative and time to reach such a problem as well as much thought is given up Japanese society to the conservation of this well balanced state. Things as far apart as horticulture as well as judo, for instance, have their roots in the cultivation as well as preservation of wa.

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Scientists have long know the impact that the mind can have on the body, however it has actually only been lately that there has actually been enough empirical proof to completely sustain it. The unconscious mind has no voice; it talks to each people with the language of the body.

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Follow our 10 simple suggestions to assist manage as well as lower your stress degrees. Stay clear of, or at the very least lower, your intake of pure nicotine and also any kind of drinks containing high levels of caffeine and also alcohol. High levels of caffeine and pure nicotine are stimulants therefore will certainly enhance your level of anxiety instead than lower it. Alcohol is a downer when absorbed large quantities, but functions as a stimulant in smaller quantities.

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Swap caffeinated and also alcohols for water, organic teas, or watered down all-natural fruit juices and also purpose to maintain on your own hydrated as this will enable your body to deal much better with stress and anxiety. You ought to also aim to prevent or reduce your consumption of polished sugars - they are consisted of in numerous manufactured foods (even in savoury foods such as salad dressings and also bread) as well as can cause power accidents which may lead you to really feel weary as well as irritable.

Stressful circumstances increase the degree of anxiety hormones such as adrenaline as well as cortisol in your body. These are the "fight or trip" hormones that development has hard-wired into our brains as well as which are created to protect us from prompt bodily injury when we are under danger. Nevertheless, anxiety in the modern age is rarely fixed by a battle or trip response, and so physical workout can be utilized as a surrogate to metabolize the excessive stress and anxiety hormones as well as recover your mind and body to a calmer, much more kicked back state.

[samtheflamingomain]

SAD and other awful things

We’ve all heard of SAD, Seasonal Adjustment Disorder. Many people have this affliction separate from any other mental illness, but many more, those with depression, anxiety, bipolar, etc. experience the added baggage of SAD. I’m one of those souls.

This is going to be a long, pointless, personal ramble, so feel free to ignore me here.

Anyway, the last month or so has been weird for me. Actually, I need to go back to September.

I started saving up for my boyfriend coming to visit, knowing I’d lose a week of work at the end of October. So I worked nearly double what I would’ve liked, saved, and went on a nice trip.

Then, as soon as I was supposed to go back to work, I got a horrible case of strep throat. That put me out of commission for another solid week. 

I worked the Sunday, so that fell into the pay period, and I got a paycheck of 50$. 

The next week, one of my coworkers was having and recovering from preventative surgery (she’s fine). She works a lot, so I had to take a lot more hours than I would’ve liked to cover her. In fact, I broke my record at 35 hours. I worked 6 days that week.

Then, the clocks went back. Though I have a normal amount of hours this week, with the time change and the temperature drop, and still recovering from the entirety of the last two months, I’m stressed as all hell. When I leave work at 4pm, it’s dark out, and it feels like 10pm, and I want to sleep immediately. When I start at 4, it feels like the day is already over because, again, it’s fucking dark.

There’s a few more factors that have been fucking me up lately. I have my top surgery appointment with CAMH next week, I have very little money and will get very, VERY little money from ODSP at the end of the month because I made so much money in October. (They deduct half of what you made.) This is very inconvenient because I missed a paycheck this month already. I’ll be fine come next Friday, but when my ODSP comes in, I might be strapped.

And finally, the icing on this shit-glazed cake: my sleeping pills do nothing anymore.

I’ve been on industrial-strength tranquilizing sleeping pills for about four years now. I have somatic fatigue (like Chronic Fatigue Syndrome but related to my mental illness) and so I’m in a state of constant fatigue all day every day. This makes it hard for my brain to realize that midnight is sleeping time. 

So lately, when I’m not drinking myself to sleep, I’ll lie awake for upwards of five hours before falling asleep - if I even do. Two nights the past two weeks, I stayed awake all night unable to sleep, just thinking and generally feeling awake (as much as I can given my fatigue levels).

My psychiatrist has nothing for me. He can’t increase the dose any higher or give me a new pill because they’re all in the same class. Imagine you start drinking vodka and initially two shots makes you drunk. If you drink every day, however, soon it will take 10 or 20 to make you feel buzzed at all. But switching alcohols won’t fix the tolerance you’ve built. Same with sleeping pills; it’s like switching from vodka to gin.

I’ve never slept well. I can sleep for a long time and I don’t wake up in the night, but for 90% of my life, I’ve lied awake for at least a few hours before managing to sleep. Sleeping pills fixed that for a long time. They make you stop thinking.

So now I’m at the point where I can’t stop thinking and there’s nothing I can do about it. 

This is really fucking me up, especially because of work. I didn’t sleep at all Wednesday night, had to work at 10am the next day, and then passed out at 9pm and slept through my alarm, waking up five minutes before work. 

I’m going to request that I be put back on night shifts because I simply can’t keep working all morning and afternoon without sleep. My manager is kind of an idiot who doesn’t listen to the needs of her workers, so it might take a while for her to get it that I’m just not reliable enough to work mornings. 

I’ve been prescribed a new antidepressant, my first tricyclic, so I’m hopeful that that will help. Also, fewer work hours and (hopefully) getting approved for surgery on Tuesday. 

I’ve been desperately hanging on for seven months - CAMH wants me to prove I can be “stable enough” for them to give me the green light for surgery. That means no rehab, no hospital, and no homelessness. I’ve fit that bill since April, but I can’t fit it forever.

Once I’m approved, they can’t take it back, though. So as soon as the appointment is made with the surgeon, I’m going to rehab. I know I’ve said this a thousand times, but I mean it, and I always have. It’s just never been a good time, especially considering I don’t want to fuck up my chance for surgery.

But between all the things I bitched about above, I know I need it. The cravings are getting worse as the sky gets darker and the wind gets colder. I tried to stop with the help of my therapist, but it’s been 9 months that I’ve been an alcoholic, and we’ve run out of ideas. 

Again, I just need to make it till Tuesday, get approved, then I can fall apart. But till then, I’ve been coasting along, desperately holding onto this appointment as a deterrent to being admitted. I know I need it, but I need surgery more. And I can’t wait another six months for approval like I’ve been doing for the last six years.

If I don’t get approved, I don’t know what I’ll do. It’s a slim chance, but it’s happened eight times now already. But this time, despite everything, I know I’m more stable, and hopefully, stable enough for CAMH.

This concludes this personal bitchfest that nobody cares about. Just needed to get it all on paper for my own sanity, I suppose.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

[midlifewithavengeance]

What Sleep is Like at Every Age: 20s, 30s, and 40s

The blog post What Sleep is Like at Every Age: 20s, 30s, and 40s was initially published to https://midlifewithavengeance.com

From our first days as newborns all the way to our old age, sleep changes throughout our lifetimes. Sleep is a dynamic process, one that affects (and is affected by) every other aspect of our lives and our biology. Bio rhythms shift, sleep architecture changes, hormone production rises and falls, all of which deeply affect how, whenand how wellwe rest. Throughout it all, the demands of daily life affect the amount—and the quality—of our nightly sleep.

There are some challenges to sleep that are perennial: inconsistent sleep routines, overconsumption of stimulants such as caffeine, over-exposure to artificial light—especially blue light. (I just wrote about blue light blocking glasses, how important they are and how to pick the right ones for you.)

But some important aspects of sleep change as we grow older—and those changes need to be met with new and different attention to sleeping well.

Wondering what sleep looks like at your age? Read on to find out the most common sleep challenges we face throughout every stage of life, and how to navigate them.

What sleep is like in your . . . 20s

Think back to your 20s, how the decade started and how it ended. A lot of us spent our early 20s up for almost anything, no matter what the hour—in fact, the later the better. (Party starts at 10 or 11? Great!) By late 20s, things probably felt different. For many of us, by the time we got close to 30, leaving a party before midnight suddenly seemed like a pretty decent idea.

We have a major bio rhythm change to thank for that. The most common sleep-related change that occurs during our first full decade of adulthood is this: a shift away from a strong preference for evenings over mornings.In adolescence, changes to bio time make nearly every one of us into Wolves—up and alert at night, struggling to function in the morning. That bio time shift happens with the onset of puberty and lasts until sometime in our mid-20s. When it does, those changing bio rhythms shift many people into another bio type—one you’ll likely have for most, if not all, of the rest of your adult life. Some people become early-rising Lions. Many settle in to the middle-of-the-road Bear bio type. Some smaller number of people will shift into a short-sleeping Dolphin bio type, that’s characterized more by their insomnia-like sleep habits than a distinct preference for mornings or evenings. And some of us (including me) will stay Wolves—continuing to prefer evenings to mornings, in perhaps slightly less pronounced ways.

Don’t know your bio type yet? Take my quiz: http://www.thepowerofwhenquiz.com/

These late nights are one big reason that sleep deprivation catches young adults in their 20s unprepared. Social jet lag—the difference between the social schedule you’re pressured to keep and both the amountand timing of your body’s sleep needs—is a big issue for young adults. Feeling healthy, resilient, and full of energy, it can be tempting to think you can skimp on sleep without consequences. It’s true that a typical 20-something has a lot of sleep-related biological advantages going for them. Hormones that enable healthy sleep—including estrogen, testosterone, and human growth hormone, among others—are naturally high. While deep sleep amounts are lower than during childhood and adolescence, they’re also still running high, compared to where they’ll be in a few decades. But there really is no free ride when it comes to the impact of sleep loss. An abundant and ever-growing body of research shows how deeply the effects sleep deprivation—including on cognitive function,mood and emotional regulation, appetite, metabolismand weight gain—affect children and young adults, with consequences that can extend long into adulthood.

In their 20s and throughout their pre-menopausal lives, women regularly experience sleep problems that directly relate to their menstrual cycle. Fluctuations of the hormones estrogen and progesterone shortly before and during menstruation cause difficulty sleeping, as well as headaches, cramping, anxiety, and low mood—all symptoms that can compound sleep problems. I see patients in their 20s experience insomnia and other sleep troubles linked to menstruation. Recent research from the Centers for Disease Control indicates that about a third of pre-menopausal women sleep an average of less than 7 hours a night, and roughly 17% have routine trouble falling sleep.

What to watch for:Irregular sleep routines, and not making enough time for sleep. Most people in their 20s have the discretionary time and freedom to get the sleep they need, but their social schedules don’t allow for it.   

What sleep is like in your . . . 30s to mid-40s

So many life changes take place during these years—and all of them have a major impact on sleep and sleep cycles. New and more demanding jobs, marriages, buying homes and having children. Our bodies in our 30s and early 40s remain naturally poised to sleep well—but the demands of work and family often make that difficult.

At a biological level, there are a number of important things happening during these years. By the 30s, you’ve settled in to the adult bio type that you’re likely to keep for decades—and maybe for the rest of your life. That makes this period an ideal time to identify the sleep routine and sleep amounts that meet your individual needs—and to start doing all you can to set daily routines that allow you to meet those needs.

(If you’ve taken my quiz to determine your bio type, now use my bedtime calculatorto find your ideal sleep schedule.)

Some bio types have an easier time than others in meeting sleep needs in the real world. Lions (early to rise, early to bed) and Bears (who fall right in the middle of a morning-evening preference scale) are more naturally aligned with society’s daily clock than night-wired Wolves and restless-sleeping Dolphins. Social jet lag continues to be a big issue for most sleepers—and by our 30s and early 40s, some bio types are feeling its impact more than others.

To learn about how bio type affects sleep and nearly every part of your waking life, check out my book, The Power of When.

Changes to sleep architecture also continue, and it’s during these years people may begin to notice. As we age, our sleep cycles contain less deep, slow-wave sleep. We spend more time in the lighter stages of non-REM sleep. This is a gradual shift—research indicates that we lose deep sleep at a rate of about 2% a decade, up to age 60. In our 30s and early 40s, people often begin to experience restlessness in their sleep, find themselves waking more easily and often at night, and feel less refreshed in the morning. It’s a good time to take a look at the natural supplements that promote sound sleep—many of which also help reduce stress and sharpen cognitive performance during the day. Here are 10 of the most effective natural sleep aids.

In addition to the ongoing sleep challenges that come with menstruation, women who go through pregnancy are likely face sleep problems that include significant sleeplessness—even if they’ve been sound sleepers in their pre-pregnant lives. Nearly 4 in 5 pregnant women report experiencing new problems with sleep. Changes to the body and intensely shifting hormone levels lead to many pregnant women feeling sleepy during the day, and restless and uncomfortably awake throughout the night. Pregnant women are at significantly higher risk for developing sleep disorders, including obstructive sleep apnea, insomnia, and restless leg syndrome.

Men who might think they can skate through these years on too little sleep without consequences: think again. Men’s risks for sleep disorders, including sleep apnea, are higher than women’s risks at this age. And shortchanging sleep can directly hurt male fertility. There’s a growing body of research showing that poor sleep reduces sperm healthand makes it harder to conceive. For example, this 2017 study found that both too little sleep and too much sleep—as well as late bedtimes—were linked to reduced sperm counts and diminished sperm motility, as well as an increase of production of an antibody that targets and destroys healthy sperm.

What to watch for:De-prioritizing your sleep. Suddenly, demands from your time are coming from everywhere—kids, spouses, work, community. It’s common for both men and women to flag their own sleep needs as low importance. Think of your sleep for what it is: an investment in the health, success, and happiness of all you’re working to build.

Next week, I’ll talk about the changes that happen for sleep as we head into middle age and beyond.

Sweet Dreams,

Michael J. Breus, PhD, DABSM

The Sleep Doctor

www.thesleepdoctor.com

  The post What Sleep is Like at Every Age: 20s, 30s, and 40s appeared first on Your Guide to Better Sleep.

from Blog | Your Guide to Better Sleep http://thesleepdoctor.com/2019/07/30/what-sleep-is-like-at-every-age-20s-30s-and-40s/

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[nic-and-annie-in-france]

Copenhagen in 10

1. The cozy/friendly/sophisticated vibe. Denmark’s interior design recently became very trendy as the concept of hygge caught on in America. The Danish word, roughly translating to “coziness,” was introduced to us on a large scale in 2016-7, when the books The Little Book of Hygge, Hygge: The Danish Art of Happiness, and The Book of Hygge: The Danish Art of Living Well were published and met significant success. Upon our arrival in Copenhagen, we got to see for ourselves what hygge was all about. Looking in windows of houses and shops in the evening was cozy. Our bed and breakfast was cozy. Several restaurants we went to were cozy. We also quickly noticed that Danish people seemed more considerate and law-abiding than most—the people we saw jaywalking were almost exclusively tourists. It also doesn’t hurt that Copenhagen is a wealthy city. Things and people seemed well-kept. With all those elements combined together, the atmosphere was perfect for our winter vacation.

2. The sunrise/sunset. Copenhagen was the furthest north we went on our trip (the equivalent latitude in North America is smack dab in the middle of Canada). So, the days were very short. Short days bum me out when we are at home in the French Alps, because the mountains block basically all of the day’s direct sunlight. But Copenhagen is extremely flat, so the short days meant that the whole day felt like either sunrise or sunset. I am a big fan of the golden hour, so the short days actually suited me quite nicely! The only downside to the city’s flatness was the consequent cold, cutting wind.

Around 2pm.

Around 3:45pm. 3. The tours (two by land, one by sea). Copenhagen is wealthy, which also means that Copenhagen is expensive. When I was planning this leg of the trip, I tried to stay conscious of how much we were spending each day, so I booked two tours with a company that provides free (or pay-what-you-want) walking tours. We had the same guide both times—an Australian man named Daniel. These tours were fun, informative, and professional. Daniel even recognized us when we came back for the second tour, saying, “Oh, there’s the couple from America by way of France!” Our third tour was a boat ride through the city’s canals. The difference from Daniel’s tours was jarring; it began 15 minutes late, the plexiglass windows were so scratched they might as well have been opaque, and the tour guide seemed to be constantly out of breath and improvising her script as she went. The boat was warm, though, and we enjoyed the opportunity to rest our legs in a warm place. We were also quite amused by the tour guide’s observation that the decorative golden onion atop the royal pavilion we were (supposed to be) looking at had gone missing since the day before.  Even after we were far away from the pavilion, she said multiple times, “I do wonder who took that onion!”

4. The Copenhagen card. Another part of my strategy for saving money in Copenhagen was to get two Copenhagen Cards for us. For five days, we had unlimited rides on public transportation, as well as “free” entry to many tourist attractions. Of course, these cards cost us money, but when I compared the cost of them to the cumulative cost of transportation and the activities on our itinerary, the cards ended up being a very good deal. The cards were also extremely helpful psychologically. I would never pay full admission to an art museum 45 minutes before it closed, but with the prepaid Copenhagen Card, I had no problem spending 45 minutes in the museum because it meant we were getting more for our money than if we had spent zero minutes in the museum. The cards did a lot to help me relax and enjoy the trip (except for the time the wind was so strong that it ripped the card out of my hand right as I was about to board the bus, but that wasn’t the card’s fault).

5. Not being able to predict how words sound in Danish. I’ve had enough exposure to German that, although I couldn’t speak it in Germany or Austria, I could at least look at the name of a train station in those places and recognize it when it I heard it on the intercom. This was not the case with the Danish language, which features those lovely “ø”s and “å”s. Our best predictions for how a word might sound always turned out to be incredibly wrong. On that subject, be sure to ask Nicolas about the convenience store cinnamon rolls. 6. Tivoli. We spent the our New Year’s Eve evening in Tivoli, which is known as the world’s second-oldest amusement park and Walt Disney’s inspiration for Disneyland. Tivoli has separate tickets for people who just want to walk around and for people who actually want to ride rides. We opted for the former. We spent a couple of hours strolling around and looking at the wintry decorations still up from Christmas time. There was fake snow and twinkle lights everywhere, plus a train engine à la Polar Express, in addition to all the normal rides and decorations. We even happened across a peacock wandering around. For someone who’s not a big Disney World fan, I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would. I think I especially appreciated the combination of the whimsical aesthetic and the absence of branding/trademarked names and characters.

7. The fireworks. Given the cozy, mild-mannered, sophisticated perception of the Danes that we had built up in our heads, we were not anticipating the kind of fireworks displayed on New Year’s Eve (or the days before or after it). Copenhagen doesn’t seem to have any kind of law against using fireworks within city limits. Even in the very center of the city, we saw and heard fireworks being set off in close proximity to us. When we were on the bus to our bed and breakfast, someone exploded a firework directly under our bus. We thought surely we would find some respite back at our place, which was in a quiet suburb far away. Nope—even at 7pm on NYE, not even close to midnight, it sounded like a war zone just outside our window. The most reasonable solution I can think of for this reckless obsession with fireworks is the fact that Denmark is still a constitutional monarchy, and never had a revolution or independence movement of any kind. They must think that NYE is their only chance in the year for fireworks, so they make the most of it! 8. Favorite fun fact: Danish danishes aren’t called danishes. The pastries we know as danishes in English are called wienerbrød in Danish. That word translates literally as “Vienna bread.” They have that name because, in the mid-1800s, the Danish bakers went on strike, and Viennese bakers came to replace them, bringing their own baking techniques with them. The Viennese bakers popularized their pastries in Denmark. Later, a Danish immigrant popularized the pastries in the US, where they finally got the name “danishes.”

9. Not being able to get the check. Tipping isn’t obligatory in many European countries because servers are paid a reasonable wage by the restaurant. Servers are not as doting as they are in the US, therefore, since they are getting paid the same amount no matter the quality of their service. Nicolas and I, as “Taco Bell people,” aren’t usually bothered by this. But on this trip, and especially in Copenhagen, we had the most difficult time getting our server to give us our bill so that we could exit the restaurant. On multiple occasions we waited over 20 minutes after finishing our meal, trying desperately to make eye contact with our server, social anxiety levels increasing all the time. On one occasion, we were quite happy to find that we arrived at a restaurant 45 minutes before it closed. “Perfect,” we thought, “when they close they’ll have no choice but to let us pay!”

See the desperation just behind the eyes?

10. 7-Elevens. I was surprised to discover that 7-Elevens convenience stores are ubiquitous in Copenhagen. The phenomenon of gas station convenience stores is largely missing in the places we’ve been in Europe. These 7-Elevens had no gas station attached (60% of people in Copenhagen use bicycles as their primary means of transportation), but the coffee dispensers and comfort foods were there, practically on every street corner. This sort of surprising and comforting reminder of home always makes me say to Nicolas, “Rivers in the desert!”

[eznews]

“You have a growth between your L3 and L4 vertebrae.”

The statement from my doctor didn’t seem real when he said it on the phone. It still didn’t when I met with the surgeon a few days later and he explained the scans, surgery and recovery process in more detail. Because of the tumor’s size, he told me I only had one or two months until the chance of permanently losing sensation in my right side increased. In fact, he warned me, I’d likely already lost some sensation, but my level of pain was hiding it.

Coronavirus has made it easy for us to become dismissive of warning signs that we experience — and for others to become dismissive of what we’re dealing with.

His diagnosis made me angry with myself for waiting to seek care. I knew something was wrong, but my fear of the coronavirus, the overwhelmed health care community and my false hope that I’d just get better made me wait. I will never know what that time cost me.

The whole world is consumed with COVID-19, understandably so. There is endless talk of the risks and inadequate resources. But one important conversation is largely overlooked: What happens when the coronavirus prevents you from getting unrelated care that you need? Just because you don’t have it yourself doesn’t mean it can’t affect your health negatively.

Fear of exposure to COVID-19 is keeping people from seeking sorely needed medical help. Moreover, the stigma that you’re burdening the system or endangering others when you do so means guilt and anxiety are also discouraging people from getting treated.

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At the heart of this conflict is the question of what essential care is. There’s a longstanding debate on whether we, as a country, are over-medicalized. How many of the visits, tests and procedures we get are medically necessary? How much do patients’ anxieties, doctors’ desires to avoid lawsuits and the system’s misguided fee-for-service incentive structure result in excess?

While these questions are all important and worth examining, they shouldn’t be communicated in ways that discourage those who need help from getting it. It would be the wrong lesson to draw from the pandemic that since so many people stopped their normal checkups, elective procedures and other medical steps, much of our health care is unnecessary.

March 26, 202002:58

In fact, if we don’t start to focus on the steep cost in lives and worsening chronic conditions resulting from our avoidance of regular health care during the pandemic, we will see much more preventable death and suffering in a country that has already experienced far too much of both.

In an interview with NBC’s “TODAY,” emergency physician Ryan Stanton painted a bleak picture of the losses already: “We’ve seen heart attacks, strokes and surgical issues that would have been a relatively benign procedure or something that we could have acted on that are coming in too late for us to do much with it.”

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In the same segment, cardiac physician Ahmed Osman stated, “There’s a lot of patients who are basically dead on arrival by paramedics because they waited too long.”

A May poll from the Kaiser Family Foundation found that nearly half of Americans have deferred medical care because of COVID-19, and 11 percent of people who have delayed or skipped medical care since the outbreak reported their physical health has gotten worse. While this shows that a majority of people feel their physical health has stayed the same, this still amounts to a huge number of Americans who have jeopardized their health as a result of waiting. Millions more might be unaware of deterioration in their health or have yet to suffer the long-term consequences of missed appointments and diagnoses.

I, personally, am only too aware of what the delay in getting treatment cost me. After eight weeks of debilitating pain in my lower back down my leg to my toes left me unable to move, I finally sought help. Unfortunately, I thought the highest risk was that of contracting COVID-19, so I measured that danger against the pain I was feeling rather than the danger of what having the pain signified.

I have an autoimmune disease that affects my kidneys and lungs as well as other chronic health conditions — including ones that are heart-related — so I am the definition of high-risk for the coronavirus. I had been viewing any medical environment as a guarantee for contracting the virus and all the devastation that would bring. Once I began to get treatment, I felt like I was playing an extended game of chicken. With every appointment and test that followed, I felt like I was pushing more than any luck I’d been afforded.

Thankfully, seeking medical treatment now is much safer than it was not long ago. Whenever I go somewhere, my temperature is taken and I’m asked questions about my possible exposure to the virus immediately upon arrival. At a hospital, I have to show proof of my appointment; many hospitals do not even allow people to visit patients. But many Americans are not aware of the improved safety at health facilities and continue to prioritize their fear of COVID-19 over all else.

Many Americans are not aware of the improved safety at health facilities and continue to prioritize their fear of COVID-19 over all else.

The coronavirus has made it easy for us to become dismissive of warning signs that we experience — and for others to become dismissive of what we’re dealing with, as only “necessary” care is encouraged. The term “necessary” sounds thinly coated in judgment, implying the question, “Is this important enough?” In other words, “Do you matter enough?” The answer is, yes, you do.

Most people forget that when it comes to their health, there are two experts and the first one — you — matters more. No one will ever know your body better or have your intuition, familiarity and intimacy with it. You are the only one who can put sense in the senseless word “necessary.”

When I think of those eight weeks lost, I try to move past my anger. In addition to the possible loss of feeling, being immobile for that long caused me to gain 15 pounds and for my blood pressure to go through the roof. My body was — loudly and obnoxiously — telling me something was wrong, and I ignored it. From now on, I will listen to it more carefully. I hope everyone will, too.

D. Michael Whelan

D. Michael Whelan is a gay, gender nonconforming, disabled and deaf writer and activist. His work has appeared in The Huffington Post, The Dallas Morning News, The Manifest-Station and Midnight Circus, among others.

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About Stress-free Storage

Stress is an all-natural part of our day-to-day lives. It can be set off by any kind of demand, from burning the midnight oil as well as getting stuck in traffic, to major life modifications such as death, separation, or disease. When you encounter a difficult circumstance, your pulse accelerates, you take a breath much faster, your muscles strained, and your mind utilizes more oxygen as well as raises activity.

You can not constantly stay clear of the stress in your life, however you can find out to deal with it much better. The National Institutes of Health and wellness advises these actions: Set priorities: Choose what have to obtain done and what can wait, and also find out to say no to brand-new tasks if you are bewildered. Keep in touch with individuals that can supply psychological and also other assistance.

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Require time to do enjoyable tasks you enjoy, such as analysis, yoga, or gardening. Stay clear of house on issues. Concentrate on what you have accomplished, not what you have actually been unable to do. Workout routinely. Just 30 minutes each day of moderate walking can aid boost state of mind and decrease anxiety. If you seem like you are making use of medicines or alcohol to cope, or are having suicidal thoughts, see a psychological wellness expert or call the National Self-destruction Avoidance Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

Anxiety! It impacts the lives of over 65 million Americans. More than 5 billion dosages of depressants and also sleeping pills are consumed daily in the USA, in efforts to decrease its effects. Thirty million Americans have been identified with severe anxiousness disorders such as panic, phobias, as well as trauma.

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Are these people that, "just can not take it?" Possibly not. According to research study done by Juliet Schor, teacher of business economics at Harvard, the typical American is functioning 163 hours every year greater than he or she functioned in 1970. That's another full month! If you are a management specialist, the numbers are also higher.

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The more you have the ability to monitor your inner responses to your setting, the easier it will be for you to identify the stressors in your life and also take steps to reduce or remove them entirely. Lots of have actually located that some kind of meditation is a means to achieve this.

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There are numerous methods of reflection, however an easy one, adapted by Herbert Benson at Harvard College, is to just close your eyes, loosen up, and repeat a word or expression that you discover relaxing. It can be something scriptural like, "The Lord is my shepherd," or a word like "Calming." Benson located that this straightforward workout can have a quantifiable influence on stress-related symptoms such as heart rate and blood pressure.

Words wa in Japanese signifies a condition of calmness and also harmony where the mind and also the body are one. It takes effort and time to get to such a condition as well as much idea is given in Japanese society to the conservation of this well balanced state. Things as far apart as gardening and judo, for instance, have their roots in the farming and also conservation of wa.

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Researchers have actually long know the effect that the mind can have on the body, however it has actually only been lately that there has actually been enough empirical evidence to extensively sustain it. The subconscious mind has no voice; it talks with each of us through the language of the body.

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Follow our 10 basic ideas to help manage and also minimize your anxiety degrees. Prevent, or a minimum of lower, your usage of pure nicotine and also any drinks containing caffeine and alcohol. High levels of caffeine as well as pure nicotine are energizers therefore will boost your level of stress and anxiety instead of lower it. Alcohol is a depressant when absorbed big amounts, but works as an energizer in smaller sized quantities.

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Swap caffeinated and also alcoholic drinks for water, herbal teas, or thinned down all-natural fruit juices and goal to maintain on your own hydrated as this will certainly allow your body to deal much better with tension. You need to likewise aim to stay clear of or decrease your consumption of refined sugars - they are included in lots of manufactured foods (also in savoury foods such as salad dressings and also bread) as well as can cause power accidents which might lead you to feel weary and cranky.

Difficult scenarios increase the degree of anxiety hormonal agents such as adrenaline as well as cortisol in your body. These are the "fight or trip" hormones that evolution has hard-wired right into our minds as well as which are designed to secure us from prompt bodily damage when we are under danger. However, anxiety in the contemporary age is rarely corrected by a fight or flight reaction, and also so physical exercise can be utilized as a surrogate to metabolize the excessive stress and anxiety hormones and also recover your mind and body to a calmer, much more relaxed state.

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Car Garage Things To Know Before You Buy

Anxiety is an all-natural part of our lives. It can be triggered by any type of need, from burning the midnight oil and also obtaining stuck in website traffic, to major life changes such as death, divorce, or illness. When you deal with a demanding circumstance, your pulse accelerates, you take a breath quicker, your muscular tissues tense, as well as your mind uses more oxygen as well as increases task.

You can not always avoid the anxiety in your life, however you can discover to cope with it better. The National Institutes of Health advises these steps: Establish priorities: Determine what should obtain done and what can wait, and find out to say no to new tasks if you are overwhelmed. Remain in touch with individuals who can provide emotional as well as other support.

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Require time to do stress-free activities you enjoy, such as analysis, yoga exercise, or gardening. Stay clear of home on troubles. Emphasis on what you have completed, not what you have actually been unable to do. Exercise consistently. Simply 30 mins per day of modest walking can aid enhance state of mind and decrease stress. If you really feel like you are utilizing medicines or alcohol to deal, or are having self-destructive ideas, see a mental wellness expert or call the National Self-destruction Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

Tension! It impacts the lives of over 65 million Americans. More than 5 billion dosages of depressants and also resting pills are taken in daily in the United States, in efforts to minimize its impacts. Thirty million Americans have been diagnosed with severe anxiety problems such as panic, anxieties, as well as post-traumatic stress problems.

9 Simple Techniques For Storage

Are these people who, "simply can't take it?" Possibly not. According to study done by Juliet Schor, professor of business economics at Harvard, the typical American is functioning 163 hours yearly greater than she or he worked in 1970. That's one more complete month! If you are a monitoring specialist, the numbers are even greater.

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The more you are able to monitor your internal reactions to your setting, the much easier it will be for you to recognize the stress factors in your life and also take actions to lower or remove them totally. Lots of have discovered that some kind of reflection is a means to accomplish this.

What Does Car Garage Do?

There are lots of techniques of meditation, but a straightforward one, adjusted by Herbert Benson at Harvard University, is to just close your eyes, loosen up, as well as repeat a word or phrase that you discover relaxing. It can be something scriptural like, "The Lord is my shepherd," or a word like "Soothing." Benson found that this straightforward workout can have a quantifiable effect on stress-related symptoms such as heart rate and also blood stress.

The word wa in Japanese signifies a condition of tranquility and also serenity where the mind and the body are one. It takes effort and time to get to such a condition and much thought is given up Japanese society to the conservation of this balanced state. Things as much apart as gardening and also judo, for instance, have their origins in the farming and also conservation of wa.

Storage for Dummies

Scientists have actually long understood the result that the mind can carry the body, yet it has actually only been lately that there has been enough empirical proof to extensively support it. The unconscious mind has no voice; it speaks with each of us through the language of the body.

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Follow our 10 basic ideas to assist take care of and also minimize your anxiety degrees. Prevent, or at the very least minimize, your intake of nicotine and also any type of beverages including high levels of caffeine and also alcohol. Caffeine and pure nicotine are stimulants and so will certainly enhance your degree of tension instead than lower it. Alcohol is a depressant when absorbed huge quantities, however functions as an energizer in smaller sized quantities.

The Greatest Guide To Stress-free Storage

Swap caffeinated as well as alcohols for water, herbal teas, or diluted all-natural fruit juices and also purpose to maintain yourself hydrated as this will allow your body to cope far better with stress. You ought to also intend to avoid or lower your intake of refined sugars - they are included in lots of manufactured foods (even in delicious foods such as salad dressings and also bread) as well as can cause power crashes which might lead you to feel worn out and irritable.

Demanding scenarios increase the degree of anxiety hormonal agents such as adrenaline and also cortisol in your body. These are the "fight or trip" hormonal agents that evolution has actually hard-wired right into our minds as well as which are developed to protect us from immediate physical damage when we are under threat. Nonetheless, stress and anxiety in the modern age is seldom fixed by a battle or flight feedback, and also so exercise can be made use of as a surrogate to metabolize the extreme stress hormonal agents and restore your body as well as mind to a calmer, much more relaxed state.

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Blog 14: March 31, 2017  The Dangers of Sleep-Deprivation

While stress is one thing that I can share with millions of students in this world, another is the lack of sleep. Sleep in high school seems so impossible to grasp when we are so suffocated by stress and anxiety caused by the intense work we receive from school. There are different reasons to why students might sleep late or even not rest at all! For example, some students may lack sleep because they are overwhelmed with school work and extra-curricular activities. For others, they may be sleep deprived because they simply suffer from the side effects of stress and anxiety, specifically when you lack the ability to slumber for a full 8 hours and instead have sporadic sessions of waking up in the middle of the night. Sleep is on of the factors that is barely recognized for its vitality and instead is only pushed aside because it is the less important than having incomplete work. Well, for those who believe this are students who are unacknowledged of the alarming effects and truths that result in the sleep deprivation. As I searched for the reality of sleep-deprivation, I discovered multiple websites that all had the same information regarding how one may suffer from the spooky effects of lack of sleep. These are just SOME of the dangers to sleep and the terribly consequence that they have on students:

Sleep impacts and regulates our emotional perception.

When we don’t get the right amount of sleep required for our body to shut down temporarily and rest, fatigue kicks in. It is then that our body is so susceptible from emotional distress, examples being crankiness, anxiety, and unwonted emotional outbursts. In addition, our emotions as well as our concentration levels are so triggered that we will feel provoked when there is actually no intention of provocation. 

According to one study I found (http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2016/03/03/sleep-deprivation-effects.aspx), our body deteriorates over time as we lose sleep. This horrific discovery states that:

“After 48 hours of no sleep, your oxygen intake is lessened and anaerobic power is impaired, which affects your athletic potential. You may also lose coordination, and start to forget words when speaking. It's all downhill from there.”

“After the 72 hour-mark of no sleep, concentration takes a major hit, and emotional agitation and heart rate increases. Your chances of falling asleep during the day increase and along with it, your risk of having an accident”

“In 2013, drowsy drivers caused 72,000 car accidents in which 800 Americans were killed, and 44,000 were injured.7 Your problem-solving skills dwindle with each passing sleepless night, and paranoia can become a problem.”

Our immunity is impaired: In a study conducted in 2009 discovered a revelation that  “people who sleep fewer than seven hours each night have almost three times the risk of catching a cold.”

Our Central Nervous System is attacked: When the body goes to slumber, it is the perfect time for the brain to rest the neurons that work so diligently throughout the day which also permits the creation of new pathways. With this fact, it is so vital for teenagers to sleep because the brain releases growth hormones during sleep which also enables for the production of proteins that are essential for repairing damaged cells. 

The Digestive System is also dramatically impacted: From an experiment done by Harvard Medical School, lack of sleep is a huge factor that contributes to obesity. This is because  “lack of sleep lowers your levels of a hormone called leptin, which tells your brain you’ve had enough to eat.”

If you are interested in more of these facts go to this link: http://www.healthline.com/health/sleep-deprivation/effects-on-body

So what do you do? Well, it is my mission to conduct this experiment in order to help you and other students in gaining more sleep. I understand that I will have challenges that will rise time to time. For instance, what happens if I can not actually get sleep because I myself am already struggling from sporadic midnight wake-ups. Also, what if all methods I find online fail and therefore cannot help others? I know that this will be challenging, but I am also eager to do this because sleep has also been a major issue for me since my average sleeping hours are 3-5 hours a day.