Overworked - Tumblr Posts

If your feeling drained all of a sudden, then you're probably overworking yourself without even realising it. A question to ask yourself is, have I even taken any breaks? And I'm talking about a proper break, one that actually recharges you. I see some people take what they call a break, but really it means doing another task that's just as stressful. So take a break. Its okay to do so, you are allowed to sit and just do nothing, or do something you find relaxing. There is no long term benefit in running yourself ragged. But there is in self care.

Hi, this is part of my Whumptober series. I’m re-blogging it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my plot!

by ADGAEA

Tony and Peter are kidnapped from a charity gala when a human trafficking ring decided to get their next victims from the gala. Tony and Peter are separated, and back-up arrives. They were too late, so now Tony must have the help of Magneto and the Wolverine in order to save his kid from a terrible fate.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my plot.

Words: 15509, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 10 of ADGAEA’s Whumptober —— 2021

Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Iron Man (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Comicverse), Marvel 616

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Erik Lehnsherr, Logan (X-Men), Raven | Mystique, Luna Maximoff, OC doctor, oc nurses, OC Kidnappers, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, May Parker (Spider-Man), Happy Hogan, Pepper Potts, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, William Stryker (Movieverse), Sebastian Shaw, Friends of Humanity - Character

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Luna Maximoff

Additional Tags: Human Trafficking, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Avengers Compound, Whump, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Hurt Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker’s Parental Figure, Teen Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, BAMF Tony Stark, BAMF Erik Lehnsherr, Not Canon Compliant, Not Beta Read, Kidnapping, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Murder, Attempted Murder, BAMF Luna Maximoff, Collars, power-dampening tools, Needles, Tranquilizers, POV Alternating, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Iron Man 3, Genosha, Comic Book Science, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Torture

Our relationship is one of love and hate,

One day you care so deeply,

The very next you’re a flake.

You speak so, so much,

But tell me nothing at all.

You’re unreachable,

Surrounded by iron-clad walls.

You are without aim,

And have so little ambition,

But your creativity is marvelous.

Your smile is contagious.

You’re a little too honest,

With everyone but yourself.

You’re in dire need of a reality check,

Stop letting others put you down.

You’re worth more than you know.

You could do anything you desire,

But you fear the unknown.

A world of choices,

Yet you’re undecided.

Is your fear of failure,

Why you feel so daunted?

The calluses on your hands,

From writing, writing, and writing.

The aches in your being,

From everyone else you’ve been serving.

You got no time for yourself,

Darling, isn’t that unnerving?

It’s your life that you are living.

Our relationship is one of hate and love,

Regardless of the mixed feelings,

You should reach for the stars and above.

This is a story in a collection I an writing of hurt/comfort oneshots for me to vent and possibly give others the same comfort.

Possible TW: alcohol

Overworked

At first Lucifer was happy with [Name]'s increase in work, but it didn't take long for him to notice the bags under their eyes getting worse, and that they would forget to show up for meals. He was starting to get worried for the exchange student.

He had requested [Name] to go to his office after classes. Before they could show up he prepared some tea, [preferred alcohol], demonus, and biscuits to talk over. Was he the cause of this? Had he Lucifer made [Name] feel like they had to work harder and risk overworking themself? His pride kept him from that to be the answer. Even so he couldn't help, but wonder.

*After Classes*

[Name] was quick on their way to Lucifer's office so they could get back to their work asap. They didn't want to have to think, and talking to him required just that. However Lucifer said that they needed to have a discussion, and if they didn't show the punishment he would set up would get in the way of their work.

Just before [Name] knocked on the door Lucifer opened it, and gestured them in before sitting back down. They walked in and sat at the chair across from him.

"[Name]... Do you know why I called you here?"

"No, Lucifer I don't know why," they took a breathe, "I'd it about the Exchange Program?"

Lucifer shook his head, "while I should be glad that you are concerned about the Exchange Program, and you getting more work done, I am not."

"I- Why not?" They said with some noticeable worry

"Did you think for even a second that I wouldn't notice?"

"... notice what?" They questioned, unsure as to what he was talking about.

He sighed, "the bags under your eyes, you skipping meals, must I go on? You're clearly overworking yourself. That isn't good for a human, and your health is important."

"I-" "I'm not done talking," he cut you off, "until this gets better you will be sleeping in 1 of our rooms and coming to meals with at least 1 of us so we know that you are eating and sleeping." He walked around his desk and knelt down next to them," I- we may not be good at showing it, but we do care about you and if you won't or forgot to take care of yourself we will." He said with one of the softest voices he could muster. "Now here you go," he hands you some biscuits and a small glass of [your favorite achohal or drink] as he sits back down and pours himself a glass a demonus, "now tell me, what has caused you to overwork yourself?"

I think when I grow up I will overwork myself because I would think that I deserve it....

Or I will be just bored at home

You know how everyone thinks Timothee looked sick/tired during the Dune event last night? Maybe a fic where he’d actually not feeling well and has to miss it and he’s extremely bummed but reader wants to him to rest because he’s been working so hard for his next project Marty supreme and it’s taking a lot out of him. Physically and mentally.

Thx ☺️ love you 😘

🥰 I hope you don't mind a slight tweak where he did go to the event but came home wiped out and irritable.

Written from female reader perspective.

Most Meaningful Role

You could sense Timothée's foul mood before he even reached the front door after the Dune 2 Q&A. It was evident in the little things - the speed at which he pulled into the driveway, how hard he shut the car door, the muffled growl when he dropped his keys trying to get inside. If he was a cartoon, you would have seen a little dark storm cloud floating above his head.

IG credit: tchallamett

The aura of the room changed dramatically as he stepped across the threshold. He never even verbally responded to your greeting. Instead, he flopped down on the couch next to you and laid his head on your lap.

You softly gazed down at the boy turned friend turned love of your life, trying to exude calming vibes to counter his ire. You noticed the purple circles ghosting his eyes masked the beautiful constellations of freckles you adored. Out of habit, you extended your hand to play with his hair, but you hesitated ever so slightly due its new shortness before diving into the longer locks at the top.

Timothée noticed, rolled his eyes, and sighed heavily. "I know, I know, my fans don't like it either."

You gently tugged his hair to turn his face toward you. "They don't understand how much you sacrifice for your roles. How much you put your heart and soul - and health - into your craft. I- I'm worried about you."

He scoffed. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You are exhausted all the time. I don't even remember the last time you came home happy. The last time you had the energy to go out on a date or a walk in the park or..."

You were interrupted by a low, exasperated grumble. Timothée sat up quickly and walked away from you to the kitchen island, all but slumping as he leaned with all his weight on outstretched arms on the counter's ledge.

Fed up, you continued. "Remember. I was here, watching you starve yourself for Beautiful Boy. I was here as you went straight from Bones and All to Wonka to Dune 2 to ACU, and now Marty, watching as your poured your energy into your fans and work instead..." you paused, unsure whether you should continue down this path. "Instead of us. I can't believe they still have you doing press for Dune anyway. Isn't it a bit overplayed by now?"

You instantly cringed, knowing you had crossed a line as you saw his shoulders tense, which blunted your surprise as Timothée slammed his hands down onto the cold marble counter with enough force to rattle the silverware in the drawers below. He turned on his heel, insult clearly written on his face.

"Over-? Guess which movies paid for that brand new car of yours in the driveway, huh? Or this house?!" he snapped back heatedly.

"Timmy, I-"

He held up his palm to cut you off. "No! I had to listen to you rant. Now you get to listen. Acting is the ONLY thing I feel a little bit good at. Take that away, and I-" his voice faltered. "I have nothing," he finished quietly.

In the deafening silence that followed, you visibly deflated, shrinking into yourself and hugging your knees on the couch.

"That's - UGH!" Timothée groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. As you stared down at the plush carpet, you saw him tentatively pad closer in your peripheral vision. He sank to his knees when he reached the couch, looking up to lock eyes with you.

"That is *not* what I meant, Peach," he stated in a much calmer tone. "Without acting, I- I have nothing to offer. To you. The world. This face," he said, pointing to his own, "won't last forever. I have to make the most of it while I still look young."

"You're going to age prematurely if you keep up your current pace," you quipped tersely, breaking his gaze by moving your head to rest your chin on your elbow. "It won't be the end of the world to be typecast into the settled and married dad role, especially if that is what you are."

Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest. This wasn't how you wanted to tell him, but your emotions got the best of you.

Timothée sat back slightly. "I'm not a..."

You could almost hear the gears turning in his head. You shifted to look at him once again, your eyes now bloodshot from holding back tears.

"Dad?" he breathed.

You nodded. "I took a test this morning. Wanted to tell you when you got home."

"Oh. Oh, Peach! That's- I- " Timothée stammered. "You- we- we're going to have a baby?" he repeated with bewildered excitement. He practically launched himself from the floor, throwing his arms around you and peppering your cheeks with kisses while you laughed. He pulled back and held your face in his large hands, gently wiping a stray tear from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

It was heartwarming to see genuine happiness light up his face once again, even if just for a fleeting moment before his eyes fell to the ground. "This should have been a happy occasion, but you are probably going to look back at this moment and just remember me yelling at you. One of the most important moments of your life, OUR lives, and I stole the wind from your sails." Now it was his turn to cry as he rested his forehead on your knees.

You gave him a moment to wallow, using the time to carefully think through what you wanted to say. You carded your fingers through his chocolate locks. "Timmy, you will *have* to slow down and take care of yourself if you are going to play a meaningful role in your child's life and mine. Pun intended. Is- is that still a role you want?"

Timothée moved to rest his chin on your knee so he could look up at you with his red-rimmed puppy eyes. "More than anything."

He pushed himself up from the floor to sit beside you on the couch. "May I?" he asked nervously, gesturing his hand toward your stomach. The corners of your mouth pulled into a soft smile as you nodded, to which he replied with a huge grin. *This* was how you had pictured this moment.

Timothée gingerly placed his hand on your belly and laid his head on your shoulder, idly rubbing semicircles with his thumb. He exhaled a contented sigh while you resumed watching the sitcom his arrival interrupted. Within just a few minutes, his idle movements ceased, and soft snoring began. Amused, you rested your cheek against the soft pillow of curls atop his head.

"Rest while you can, love," you whispered as you laid your hand on top of Timothée's on your stomach and let out a contented sigh of your own.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag List: @croatianprincess @bluizh @jindongdongie @groovy-lady @pmak2002

"... We live in the age of the overworked, and the under-educated; the age in which people are so industrious that they become absolutely stupid."

𝑶𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒆

VENT

Im so stupid. Making a bunch of promises I cant even keep. Every promise I made, I didnt keep. Im scared that everytime I go online theres always someone asking, "Where's ____?" "Are you done with ____?" Im so busy in life, I cant even focus on projects anymore. Things that I want to do but can't. Hell, I cant even stay up late at night since of health issues. I want to keep going. But I cant. I have exams and tests thrown at me. And the more promises I make, The more projects I plan the more I hide. 'What if they dont like the product?' 'What if they dont like the outcome?' The Voice acting, Animating, Editing. Its all hell for me. Im scared to show scripts and concept art for them. What if they leave? What if they hate it?

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

This is the sundrop I want to write in my fanfiction

hang in there buddy🚬

It's wild how "normal" is going to school for twelve years, then going to college, all to get a job where you work 40 hours a week for like 40 years, and hoping you will have enough money to retire. But people who dont want this are the odd ones out. Nobody should want to live in a world where you cant start living life til youre 65