#for reminding me that i need to post something this week

[leandra-kinard]

I'm in no way invalidating this post, as I assume it's US-centric. But it's a stark reminder how vastly different the work cultures are there and in Germany where I live and work.

Yes, you don't have to tell your boss everything, and in some instances it's a good idea to say less, but if you have any kind of long-term illness or condition, it actually is a good idea to talk about it with your boss (and HR + the work's council, if you have one). Good employers in Germany will then do their best to accommodate for your needs so they can keep you and make things work out for you. They tend to have a more long-term mindset where they want to help the employee get better or find better ways to be a happy (and yes, with that productive) employee.

That's not always the case either; especially internationally operating corporations here are a bit more cut-throat, so it's a good thing to know the company's mindset well, but it's a tendency.

Also, there are actual laws that prohibit them from firing you for something like that. There are limits, for example if you're actually sick (off work) for too long repeatedly with no prospect of improvement that can be a just cause for termination, but the employer has the duty of proof in that instance. If they cannot prove that your absences are too detrimental to the company's well-being for them to tolerate it, you can sue for reinstatement or damages.

At my current company, I've been immensely lucky, because even for German standards the mentality there is extraordinarily understanding and supportive. When I told my boss that I was burned out and had to take a week or two off (on fully paid sick leave, mind you), he said "Two weeks might not be enough. Take as long as you need." So I took four.

I was in the process of switching departments, so I had a conversation with my next boss too and asked if I could work from home completely for a while. He seemed very understanding, and I then told him the whole story - because he also needed to have some kind of prospect and know how long it was gonna take etc - so I said I was in the process of being diagnosed for ADHD and that I just couldn't manage also having to go into the office.

Now that I have the diagnosis and will soon hopefully get my meds, there's that prospect, and we said for now, I was gonna come in one day a week (usually 2 is mandatory) for a while until I feel ready to be there two days again.

That was only possible because I explained what was going on with me; the transparency also gave the employer a positive outlook and a feeling of trust, and when your company's mentality is built on those kinds of values, it makes for a million times more pleasant AND productive working environment. I mean, just by how this all was handled I do feel very loyal to my company now. (I'd be stupid to leave, frankly, lol).

And from many other cases I know how they reacted too. A colleague had to stay at home because she had pregnancy complications - no problem. Another one sometimes has to leave early or work from home because she has frequent and heavy migraines. Sometimes people have to do the same because of something to do with their kids. Everyone is usually fully transparent about it and it really helps create an atmosphere of openness and trust.

TL;DR: Err on the side of caution, yes. But do inform yourself of your legal rights in your country, and the mechanisms in such situations. Suss out the company's approaches to various issues and know their policies. Sometimes, when the outside conditions are in your favor, being transparent about your situation can be the better choice.

Hey here is your friendly reminder to not tell your nice boss stuff.

I’m at the executive management level for my very small company and I have 4 people who report directly to me. I am a nice boss. I’m friendly with my employees, I treat them like professional adults, I actively try to create a positive work environment, and I mentor them and make sure they’re advancing in their careers. I do my best to shield them from the rest of management doing stupid shit. My employees like working for me.

The other day one of my employees came to ask if she could change her hours on Mondays. I said yes immediately because it’s helpful for me to know when she’s here and when she’s not, but as long as she gets her work done I don’t care when and where she does it. She then proceeded to tell me that it was so she could attend therapy and like … I will never use this information but … as a general rule don’t fucking do that.

Do not tell your employer shit about your mental or physical health except for the bare minimum needed to request a reasonable accommodation. Even your nice boss can fire you, even your nice boss can unfairly change your working conditions, and even your nice boss at some point is probably going to face pressure from their superiors.

I’m not saying don’t trust your boss with anything ever. I’m just saying that anytime you are in the workplace you need to keep your private information private. You can still have a good relationship with your boss. Your workplace can still be pleasant. But if it ever feels like disclosing private information is required in order to have a good relationship with your boss, please see that as a red flag.

[firenati0n]

wip wednesday <3 :)

hello friends, it has been a while...thank you for all of the tags over the last few weeks <3 i really appreciate the love. queueing this post early :)

here's a long snip from something i am writing for fun in a doc aptly titled "proposal au chapter 1 henry pov"

if you have not read proposal au and are interested in a little romcom, here is the link :) - fully posted, 54k :)

Henry has a routine, honed after years of trial and error, comfortably adopted now by him and those important to him. Typically, he wakes up, gets ready for the day, makes sure David has everything he needs in Henry's absence—which reminds him, he needs to ask Alex for more treats soon—and then walks at a moderate but comfortable pace to the 4 train. Somewhere in the middle of all this, his brain spares a moment to wonder what Alex's face will look like in the morning. If his hair will be neat with defined curls, or tousled in a cheeky nod to his night's activities. The latter makes his stomach churn, just a little.  Today, however, feels different. Something is in the air. It goes— David whines at his feet before he leaves, so he takes an extra three minutes to soothe him before leaving, because regardless of what people may whisper behind his back, he's no monster. The train pulls into the platform seven minutes behind schedule, resulting in at least twenty-five percent more congestion and more harried commuters squishing into Henry's space, the air a mix of cologne and sweat and stress.  Then, after walking into the office at 8:25am—too close to his regular time for comfort, requiring him to walk at brisk pace instead of a leisurely stroll—he watches as the people in the elevator don't hold the door for him, even though they absolutely saw him walking hurriedly to catch it. And then, as he's rounding the last corner between him and his blessed office at 8:28am, he gets stopped by Amy and her newest embroidery project, a floral arrangement of sorts, which is admittedly very lovely. Maybe she should work with the design team sometime for one of the book covers, she'd be an excellent asset.  So, he definitely cannot be blamed for his tetchy attitude when he walks into his office at 8:32am, late and desperately in need of some bloody tea. He runs an agitated hand through his hair as he heads to his desk, a thrum of nervous energy making him restless. 

xoxo roop

open tag + tagging back some friends and folks who got me over the last few months fjaskldjflasf sorry if i missed anyone! my brain is like scrambled eggs rn:

@kiwiana-writes @cha-melodius @alasse9 @jafffacakess @porcelainmortal

@run-for-chamo-miles @onward--upward @blueeyedgrlwrites @suseagull04 @judasofsuburbia

@caterpills @rockyroadkylers @seths-rogens @orchidscript @onthewaytosomewhere

@energievie @indestructibleheart @clockwrkpendrxgon @everwitch-magiks @sophie1973

@eusuntgratie @stellarmeadow @rmd-writes @fairflowered @incalamity

@anincompletelist @wordsofhoneydew @cricketnationrise @miss-minnelli @itsmaybitheway

@whimsymanaged @zwiazdziarka @milowren29 @msmarvelouswinchester @sherryvalli

@getmehighonmagic @welcometololaland @thedramasummer @priincebutt @stratocumulusperlucidus

@leaves-of-laurelin @14carrotghoul @anchoredarchangel @clottedcreamfudge @tintagel-or-cockleshells

@dumbpeachjuice @shesfromboston @miharaikko @theprinceandagcd @kj-bee

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 23 - Cockwarming

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : so, my first attempt at doing Kinktober taught me that one of the pros of using someone else’s prompts is that you don’t have to come up with them by yourself. Sadly, it has also taught me that one the con of using someone else’s prompts is that… well, you end up having to write things you’ve never tried before 🤣. Anyway, this is my attempt at writing something « cockwarming ». Shoutout to people on Reddit who shared their experience on various posts. Really couldn’t have done it without them 😅. Oh, and this is Dom!Marshall x Sub!Reader !

CW : Smut? - Cockwarming - Anxiety

It had been a couple of months since Marshall had agreed to show you more of what being a submissive entailed. He was a great teacher, willing to answer any question, offering detailed explanations, putting the emphasis on consent and safety. Obviously, this brought a shift to your friendship dynamic. You weren’t just buddies anymore. There was something deeper there, something based on trust and intimacy. Both of you had access to parts that each other kept hidden. In the past few weeks, Marshall had gotten to know your body like the back of his hand, as well as your mind. He was able to anticipate your needs, knew exactly when he could push you further or when it was time to hold back. And, in spite of the rigid structure inherent to the weekends you spent at his place, that the untrained eye would identity as some distance between the two of you, he had become some sort of safe place for you. Not only as a close friend but also as your Sir.

You’d had a really rough week at work. Not only was your boss even more of an asshole that usual, but you had been assigned to some big project that had you stressed out. The anxiety was paralyzing and the tension followed you home, too. Even out of the office, that thing remained on your mind. And for the first time, you weren’t sure you’d be able to last a whole weekend with Marshall. You had texted him a few days earlier, letting him know how you were doing (as part of your agreement). You had been pretty straightforward and expected him to cancel, but he seemed pretty adamant on having you come over as usual. And when you showed up, as soon as he opened the door, he took notice of how disheveled you look. Big dark circles, eyes glistening with exhaustion and a drawn out stance. It didn’t take a genius to tell you were a mess. You looked down, bowing your head as he had taught you, waiting for him to invite you in.

Contrary to what was usual, he pulled you into a warm embrace, one that reminded you of the ones you’d shared as friends who showed up for each other during hard times. You leaned into it, closing your eyes, though you had a hard time letting go of all the tension. He seemed to notice it and gave you a reassuring smile before kissing your forehead. « I know you had a rough week, » he said in a tone that with both firm and gentle at the same time. « You don’t have to worry about anything now. You’re here with me and I’m in charge ».

His tone did not leave room for argument or doubt. You nodded, anxiously hoping that he wouldn’t go too hard on you. He had never given you any reason to doubt the fact that he’d make your comfort and wellbeing a priority, but you were the one you didn’t trust. You weren’t even sure what your own limits were. Everything in your mind was blurry, noisy and messy. You took a deep breath and entered the house. And as was now usual, you put down your bags and knelt in the foyer, waiting for him to properly greet you and give you your instructions. He stood before you, his hand gently patting the top of your head. « Good girl. Welcome home. » he praised in that low voice of his. « You may go to your room and get ready. Your checklist is on the bed », he instructed.

You nodded and did as you were told. It was the same start every weekend : you’d kneel, he’d greet you and you’d go to make yourself at home in the guest bedroom next to his. Then, you’d take a shower, put on the clothes he instructed you to wear and read the checklist he had prepared in advance. Most of the time, it was the same thing : you were in charge of making dinner for the both of you, as well as doing some reading on submission. Some other tasks included helping him sort out his cassette collection or library. On occasion, if he had a specific event coming up, he tasked you with outfit recommendations. This time, however, the checklist was pretty brief : «Put on comfy clothes - No chores - Rest - Obey».

When you walked back downstairs, you found him on the couch, scrolling on his phone. He glanced and your direction and gave you a nod, signaling he was happy with your outfit choice. He gestured for you to have a sit and you noticed that a cozy blanket and a cup of herbal tea were waiting for you. « Figured you’d need this. Take a moment and have some tea. I’ll be right there. » he instructed. You settled onto the couch, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and cradled the mug into your hands, the warmth seeping onto your skin. You took a sip, the comforting taste calming your nerves, and let out a small sigh. Normally, simply being in the house would be enough for your mind to go quiet but not this time. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on your surroundings, the comfy couch, the familiar smell… but you kept on replaying moments of the past week. Your boss yelling at you. Your colleague pressuring you about the deadline. Instinctively, your hands clenched around the mug. You felt Marshall’s hand in your back, rubbing comforting circles. None of you spoke for a while, before Marshall cleared his throat, signaling for you to look at him.

« This weekend, I want you to let go and rest, understood? », he said, his gaze meeting yours with quiet intensity. « You’ve been pushing yourself and now, I’m going to take care of you », he added. Your eyes softened at his words and, though you found yourself nodding, you were met with a surge of anxiety. You didn’t want to be a burden. And you didn’t want him to think you’d given up on your progression as a sub either. « Thank you, Sir. But you don’t need to-», you began. He silently raised an eyebrow, making you shut up instantly.

« Who am I to you right now ? » he calmly asked. « You’re my dom, Sir », you replied softly, looking down. « Which means you are…? » he asked again. « Your sub, Sir », you replied. « That’s right. You’re my sub. Mine. And I take care of what’s mine. » he said firmly, in a tone that didn’t leave room for you to second-think. You nodded and he cupped your face, his thumb gently brushing your skin. You finished your tea and he led you to the movie room where he put on a movie, in an attempt to distract you. He was sitting on the couch while you were at his feet, sinking into the soft carpet, your head resting gently against his leg. One of his hands was in your hair and his presence grounded you.

You enjoyed the movie, but it still wasn’t enough to put your mind to rest. Contrary to your habits, you were fidgeting, nervously biting your lip, the skin around your nails. Marshall kept on swatting your hand but you couldn’t stop, much to his exasperation. « Stop doing that », he scolded. « Sorry, Sir. Can’t really help it. », you apologetically replied, to which he rolled his eyes. « It’s stressing me out. And you’re going to hurt yourself.» he continued. « Sorry », you mumbled, without really stopping. He firmly grabbed your wrist and watched you intently. « Y/N » he said sternly. « It’s an oral fix- » you began, though he cut you off with a loud sigh. « Do you need me to help you with that ? »

You looked at him, trying to scan his face to make sure what he was implying. Your eyes traveled to his crotch, then back to his eyes. You were about to make a comment about him just needing to tell you to get on your knees if he wanted you to satisfy him when he clarified it. « Not asking for a blowjob » he said. You looked at him, slightly confused. « So, uh, what is it, Sir? » you asked with a raised eyebrow. « Just you, keeping it in your mouth. Ever heard of cockwarming? ». You nodded. You’d vaguely heard of it but you had never found it too appealing. In your opinion, it kind of lacked the fun of an actual blowjob and you didn’t quite see the point. « Some people like it. They say it’s soothing,» he continued. « We can give it a try if you want. It’ll be less disgusting than… you biting your nails or whatever ». You nodded after a couple seconds of consideration. Worst comes to worst, you’d find it disgusting and wouldn’t try it again. Plus, if there was anyone you trusted with this, it was him. And in the best case, it might actually work. « Words, doll » he ordered. « When it comes to anything like that, I’d rather have you verbally consent », he added. « I consent to trying it, sir », you said with a slight smile, finding it quite endearing, the way he always made it feel safe. He nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. « So, uh… I just… put it in my mouth and not move? » you asked. He chuckled and shrugged a bit. «That’s the idea. You can gently suck and lick if you feel like it, too» he nodded. « But is that going to be… enjoyable? » you asked again with a raised eyebrow. « For me? Yeah. It’s agreeable. Pretty intimate, too. Might be enjoyable for you too. Apparently, it does a great job satisfying oral fixations. You’ll tell me. If you don’t like it, we stop. And you know the safe words and moves anyway, don’t you ? » he said with a smile and you nodded.

He moved a bit on the couch, before lowering his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. It was in a semi-soft state in which, not to toot your own horn, you weren’t use to seeing it often. You almost found it unsettling, not seeing it fully erect. He gestured for you to come and you settled between his legs, comfortably curling up and wrapping your mouth around his dick. You looked at him for a few seconds, as if to make sure you were doing it right. He gave you a small nod and a reassuring smile, before running a hand in your hair. « Good girl », he praised softly. « Now, try and relax, ok? ».

Much to your surprise, you didn’t find it as weird as you thought you would. Sure enough, you’d never had a cock that wasn’t fully hard in your mouth, nor were you used to not doing anything to it once it was in. But it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as you expected. And it wasn’t disgusting either. In fact, he was right : it did do a good job at satisfying the oral fixation. As someone who had always been sort of « orally centered », there was something relaxing to holding him in your mouth. Soon enough, you let your mind wander, shifting your focus from work to your dom, who gently stroked your hair and neck. You instinctively suckled, not exactly on purpose, but you could hear Marshall humming lightly. You stayed like that for a while, enjoying the contact and intimacy of it, while the TV show played in the background. «All good, doll? », Marshall asked after a while. You let out a soft hum, your mind kind of elsewhere. He let out a soft chuckle and a « Good girl » escaped his lips. His fingers found the back of your head, stroking in soothing motions. You found yourself in some kind of meditative space, halfway between relaxation and submission. Finally. What you enjoyed the most. The point where the noise in your head went quiet and nothing outside really mattered.

You’d had enough conversations with Marshall to know what sub space was but you had never experienced it. In the back of your mind, you wondered if, perhaps, that was it. You were feeling both vulnerable and connected to your dom, your body feeling as if it were « floaty ». You were not exactly sure where you were, or how long you stayed like this and, frankly, you didn’t care. You felt serene, as if you were exactly where you belonged. Marshall’s fingers traced your scalp, your forehead, your cheek, grounding you, reminding you of his presence and him being in charge.

You could feel him twitch slightly in your mouth, hardening and softening at times. You went with the flow, instinctively shifting your position. At some point, however, it became too challenging for you to hold him in your mouth, to even breathe. It kind of took you out of your zone and you took it out of your mouth as you came to your senses. You looked at Marshall, who was seemingly zoned out. He gazed at you with a smile, his eyes full of silent praises. «All good, sweetheart ? » he asked in a low voice. You nodded, smiling at the sweet pet name. « All good. Thank you, Sir » you replied quietly. He cupped your face and let his thumb stroke your cheek. «There it is. That smile. Missed it. » he teasingly commented, making you blush. « So? I take it that you didn’t hate it? » he asked with a grin. « I didn’t » you agreed. « It was nice ».

« I’m glad » he hummed. « Wanna keep going? ». You lowered your gaze, noticing he was still fully hard. « Don’t think I’ll be able to hold it, Sir. Not like… this » you softly commented. He looked down and let out a chuckle. «Ah. Sorry. Side effect. » he replied with an unapologetic smirk before putting his boxers and pants back in place. « Means you’re a good girl », he added with a wink. You felt a familiar warmth through your body and for a second you wondered if he was aware of the effect his praises had on you. You let out an involuntary giggle before blushing and looking down apologetically. « Didn’t think you’d find me so funny » he said with a raised eyebrow. You shook your head, indicating it wasn’t that. He crossed his arms and stared at you. « Why don’t you share, then ? » he suggested with a smirk. « Before I punish you for laughing in my face », he added in a low voice. You looked at him and blushed slightly before tentatively explaining. « I, uh… I was wondering if it was an acronym, sir », you awkwardly replied, failing to hide a goofy smile. « An acronym? » he repeated, clearly not getting the pun. « Because it stands for me », you mumbled, trying not to let out the goofiest snort. He stared at you intently, sternly for a few seconds, before breaking character and face palming himself, letting out a loud chortle. « Oh Jesus Christ, Y/N » he sighed with a laugh. « Sorry » you giggled before looking down. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You exchanged goofy smiles, both of you enjoying the moments when your friendship bled into the dynamic. «If the bad jokes and lyric references are back, I think it means you’re feeling better » he chuckled. You nodded and gave him a sincere smile. « I do. Thank you Sir. You’re a good dom. And a great friend. » you said with a heartfelt gratitude. He chortled and nodded. « I mean, it’s nothing special. Friendly cockwarming. It’s a thing. » he deadpanned. You couldn’t resist playing into it. «Makes sense. I might remember that next time work brings me down and ask my office buddy for a friendly favor » you playfully replied. The humor in your voice was unmistakable but it didn’t prevent him from squinting and his eyes from going darker. « oh yeah? Anything you want to share, doll ? » he asked sternly.

You gave him a smile and shook your head. You were well aware of the rules : the whole dynamic was basically a friends with benefit arrangement and, if you wanted to date or be involved with someone else, you were free to, but it would mean his domination would become strictly platonic. « There’s no one else, Sir. » you hummed. «I’m all yours », you added in a whisper, though you knew he could clearly hear it. « Good. I like the sound of that. You’re my good girl » he praised in a low voice, his face inching closer to yours. « I like being yours, sir » you added under your breath. You saw a smirk form on his face and, without adding anything, he pulled you to him and his lips crashed into yours, sending jolts of electricity through your whole body. You thoroughly enjoyed him having such a primal reaction. And it was quite rare, too. Most of the time, your dynamic didn’t involved a lot of flirting and teasing. Kissing, too, was quite rare. That being said, you found it quite exhilarating.

His kiss was possessive, not leaving room for doubt. His hands moved to your waist, his hold on you feeling fierce and raw. Though you were used to letting him be in control, this time, you couldn’t resist responding eagerly. Your body melted into his, your lips soft and insistent against his. Marshall’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss, a quiet growl escaping his throat as he claimed you fully. It was empowering and intoxicating, noticing the way he reacted to your submission. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy him being territorial. As your mouths parted, in order to allow for some much-needed breathing, you slightly pulled back, realizing that, regardless of how enjoyable it was, you might be overstepping. « Sorry, sir », you whispered before lowering your gaze. He shook his head and cupped your cheek before capturing your lips in another kiss, this one slower and deeper that had you surrendering, melting against him. The kiss deepened, your bodies pressed close as you lost yourselves in each other. You already knew he was rock hard, obviously, and you could feel it through the fabric of his clothes. You were slowly grinding against each other, as you let him take the lead and instinctively followed his movements. « What can I do for you, Sir ? » you asked as you bit your lip. Your desire had you feeling as if you were burning from the inside, and you were dying to have him telling you to get on your knees and get to work. He smiled and placed a tender kiss on your lips before shaking his head. « You’re not doing anything for me, this weekend. I’m taking care of you, remember ? » he reminded you. « What do you have in mind, Sir ? » you asked. « At least a couple of orgasms, and maybe some more friendly cockwarming. There’s more holes for us to try », he replied with a promising smile.

[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

Part 5 - Noah

Noah laid there in his bed, the only light coming from the screen of his phone. The only sound in the room the old videos he kept watching. It was all that kept him going when sobriety got to be a little too difficult. And right now, it was hard as fuck. Until the other night nobody outside of his therapist had known just how much he despised himself for the shit he had put Lilith through in the end. And now he had gone and blurted it out like a fucking idiot. Such a fucking idiot. So, rather than relapse he was going to watch these old videos as many times as it took until the anxiety passed.

Listening to her laughter, seeing the way her eyes crinkled just a bit at the corners when she smiled, in and of itself was its own form of mental torture, but God, did it help keep the urge to drink away. A reminder of what life was like before the one or two drinks every so often turned into three or four most nights of the week. Then getting blackout drunk most nights of the week. Soon it was steady drinking from the moment he woke up until he passed out later that night. Rinse and repeat.

"Noah, I swear to all that is unholy. If you don't stop recording me right now I'm cutting your hair in your sleep!"

Noah chuckled to himself as Lilly in the video stopped doing her hair to run from him, laughing uncontrollably at his feeble attempt to stop her without dropping his phone. He had been obsessed with recording every moment with her when he wasn't on tour. Some excuse of watching them when he missed her, which he did do, but honestly it was because he just couldn't get enough of her. Even when they bickered he hated not being near her, always finding a reason just be around her while she tried to ignore his presence. Which she inevitably failed at, every time. Because as much as she refused to admit it at first, she needed to be near him just as much as he did her. Once upon a time, anyway.

Heaving a weary sigh he scrolled to the next video, immediately being greeted by her and Danny dressing up a skeleton Halloween decoration. Noah outright laughed as he watched the two of them dressing the skeleton up, neither understanding the directions the other was giving. It was their first Halloween in this house, and Lilly had insisted on going all out for the kids in the neighborhood. She'd had the bright idea of dressing skeletons up as Bring Me The Horizon members to put in the yard as a skeleton band.

Just then Matt walked in, flipping the light on, blinding him.

"Jesus Christ, Matt!" He yelled, covering his eyes. "The fuck do you want?"

"You've been hiding in here too long. Get your ass up and meet me downstairs in five."

"Fuck off."

"See you in five."

Matt left, leaving the door wide open. Fucking asshole. He loved Matt, he did, but he was a fucking asshole sometimes. Couldn't he just be left to rot in fucking peace?

"Fucking asshole," he grumbled, rolling out of bed. If he didn't get down there Matt would be back, likely with a bucket of water to dump on him or something stupid like that.

Noah caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he walked past it, and outwardly cringed. He looked like shit. Hair stuck up in every which way, four days worth of stubble on his face. Well, what little bit he could grow, anyway. He reached for the hoodie he'd flung on the back of his chair, pulling it over his head as he stomped out his bedroom door and to the stairs. This better be good.

***

"If you really want to make amends, hiding after having a panic attack in her kitchen isn't the way to do it."

Matt's words swam around in his head, circling over and over again. He was still an asshole, but he meant well. Of course, he was right. But how would he even go about making amends? Would she even be open to allowing him to? The way she had looked at him that night, he wasn't so sure. However, she had done everything she could in that moment to help him. Shit, it had worked better than anything anyone else did after he got home.

Carefully he leaned forward, inspecting his now shaven face. Couldn't miss any spots or it would drive him nuts. He had always been that way, but since getting sober he was more meticulous about it. Everything had to be just so or he couldn't function properly until it was fixed. Satisfied he had gotten everything he stood back up, pulling a plain white shirt over his head.

First order of business was to get cleaned up. Second was to at least attempt to get a hold of her. If she didn't answer he would just show up. Well, maybe not unannounced. That hadn't exactly gone well last time. A repeat sounded like an absolutely terrible idea if he was honest. One panic attack she might forgive, but a second one? Hardly. He was surprised she even answered her phone the last time.

Speaking of, he picked his phone up off the counter, freezing over her name. Was this a call or text situation? Maybe he should have asked one of the guys first. Jolly would probably be the one to know. He knew her best these days. Unfortunately, Jolly was out with Sadie.

Fuck it. He would text her, and if she didn't get back to him after a while then he would call. For all he knew she was at work, anyway. Heart pounding in his chest he hit the button to text her, freezing at the last message he had received from her. The night he had fucked everything up beyond repair.

"Where are you? Noah, you're worrying me."

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[candz13z]

imagine this:

the injured human gets better in record time and they seem to be handling this really well. The aliens go to beat up the alien that did that to their human, only for the still in-a-cast human to defend them and insist that they patch up the alien's injuries and that they forgive the alien. Theres something slightly off about it when they say it but aliens had never been able to quite decipher human cues and feelings so they decide to leave it as is.

especially when asked about it the human only goes "youll see"

a few weeks past. The alien had long since healed, they hadnt even needed the patching really. Then the human starts trying to befriend the alien. And all of the other aliens on the ship watcv flabbergasted as it actually fucking works. But they notice something odd. The alien wasnt good- by any means of the word. They were rude and crude and disrespectful. Whenever the human and the alien were together, they would modify their whole behaviour to be similar to the alien's. Seeing them slip into this 'role' (as the human called it) was jarring. Their postrure, their intonation, the way they fucking walked-

it may as well have been a new fucking human. But if this is whay they wanted the crew would respect it.

Months pass..

Then the alien was in the medbay again. He had been beaten almost to death. Even weirder- there was a post on a human app detailing the aliens exact house, a list of family members and a bunch of old, embarrassing photos, a detailed list of embarrassing things theyve done, spoken to thw aliens ship about their behaviour- it was frankly as impressive as it was terrifying.

The human. It was the human. Suddenly it made a lot of sense. when asked about it the human only grinned, one of those offputting bloodthirsty grins theyd give right before battle and said "Usually doxing is enough to sate me. But i really wanted to sink my teeth into this guy. So i did."

There indeed had been a chunk ripped out of their body. When did the humand even get the time to wash off the blood????

Months. Almost half a year of plotting and scheming- it was diabolical. Something straight out of a human film where humans had super powers. It was bone chilling. They mustve had to do so much research- there wasnt even that much research on that particular type of alien available to the public. Yet the human hit ecery single one if their weak spots with beat surgical accuracy. Where the fuck did they even get the research from? Did they just figured that out on their own? Either way it was dedication.

But it definitely reminded exactly what a human is capable of. And it definitely showed them they didnt need to worry after all. Humans are fucking terrifying.

been binge reading all those alien meet human posts recently and it made me wonder how aliens would react to human fear/hurt.

humans are fragile.

humans are fragile and somehow, by attitude alone they somehow manage to outgrow the confines of their physical bodies. Their bravery and intelligence make them seem so so much bigger than they actually are. Fancy weapons and body Armour and their ability to work in groups up to such an extreme makes them seem like they're more than they are. They'll packbond with anything too- too friendly for their own good somehow it never comes back to bite them.

But they really are just flesh and bone and heart under all that armour.

Imagine a human gets hurt. They get hurt and they get scared. So, so scared that they won't let anyone near them. It was like watching a wild animal, primal and instinctual in a way that humans rarely ever show. Sure, they get protective but they still keep their head on, still think it through. But they were just doing things right now- punching things with a bony fist that looked somehow smaller now. Humans make ot a point to go against anything that should be their nature, seeing them lean into that deep seated natural instinct to fight was chilling to say the least.

They were bleeding, bleeding too much to be any type of good, but they couldn't help. Its only after they pass out from blood loss do the aliens take them too the medbay. The confines of their body finally catching up to them in a way that aliens forgot it could. Usually when injured, humans will tough it out. 'Adrenaline' and spite spurring them on to keep going. To see them have to give up was unnerving.

They're better in less than an hour, like nothing had happened at all. Still, the crew of aliens tread on egg shells for an entire month after the encounter. If they hover a little closer to their token human during fights after that due to the new and old knowledge of their humans fragility, the human can only sigh and hope that they forget.

[jadehaven]

ELRONDRIEL WEEK DAY FIVE | Post S2

Not sure if tumblr is the place to post fics but I don’t have an AO3 account yet and I’m too inpatient to wait for my invite lol. Once I’m set up on there I’ll do a repost, but for now, enjoy a little 3k fluffy one shot! And go easy on me, I never, ever write fantasy 🙃

Breathe Me In

By Jade Haven

———————————

Cold.

Where am I?

Ice pricked at her skin, dry as bone and sharp as sword as it chiselled her body. Every vigorous wrestle was deemed useless as a foreign numbness crippled her flesh. The weight of her body was being dragged down; her shoulders shivering as her head fell below the murky surface.

I can’t, I can’t—.

Her cries were absent in her throat. A sound only she herself could hear, drumming in her ears as loud as the rapid pulse of her heart. But as she reached for the last light above, her chest was seized and her breath escaped her.

“Touch the darkness,”

She squeezed her eyes shut in defiance— No.

Heat pooled below the surface of her skin. It grew hotter and hotter as it’s flames clenched her very soul. She shuddered once more, hands coming up to grasp herself, skin burning and freezing with every sharp exhale.

“I only wish to heal you.”

No, She persisted.

“Touch the darkness.”

With every turn of her body, it became all the more clear that her efforts to resist were in vain. She was sinking, rapidly.

“Galadriel,”

She choked and gasped, desperate to fill her lungs with light— a light she could no longer distinguish at so great a depth, despite the scalding sensation above her heart.

“Gala—“

“No—!”

When Galadriel opened her eyes, she was sitting upright. Relief washed over her in giant waves. She was breathing. Shaken with turmoil, her hand rose to touch the warm spot below her collarbone. Her fingers traced over the rigid outline of the scar that lay below her linen nightgown, and her shoulders relaxed finally. The wound had sealed up weeks ago, but every night she woke from restless slumber as if it had been ripped open over and over again. Several times she swore she’d felt the dampness of blood soaking through her blouse— but every sunrise revealed her pure white garments had remained untouched by the remnants of her past.

Once she had steadied her breath to a slow rhythm, she turned to draw in the sight of her surroundings. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the low light, pitch dark if not for the freckles of moonlight that scattered over her sleeping quarters. A weight lifted as she let a sigh roll off her tongue.

The same handwoven roof lay atop her tent, held by twigs and branches that had been provided by the war sanctuary itself. A clay carafe rested beside her cot, with fresh spring water that lay still in the vessel. It was a ponderous miracle, how the sanctuary had managed to give the fugitive elves everything they needed— everything except true rest, for a haunted immortal soldier.

Galadriel tilted her head down to where she spun Nenya around her index finger. She had always known the rings would only be able to protect so much of her eternal being. Each night terror had been a ferocious reminder that even with their power, she was vulnerable. Sensing the panic rising in her chest, she decided a moment away from her resting place might be something of reassurance for her.

As she stepped out of the tent, her lungs drank in the freshness of the night. Imladris was never too warm nor too cold. It was heaven in this way, a little glimpse of Valinor on earth. Despite the war with Sauron, it held in itself an ever-growing hope. A pleasant newness, and anticipation of victory. She wouldn’t go far, only a few hundred steps, down to the river bank to splash some water on her flushed face. The moss had grown into a perfect cushiony path for her to follow, soft as silk and sand. With the rings guarding the forest haven, there was peace and assurance among the people. But the High King had ordered elven soldiers to be posted around the camp regardless. In the silence of the night, it was clear she was the only elf awake among them.

The gleam of starlight had cast a glow so bright over the waters that it looked almost as if the river was lit from within. It sang out its own tranquil melody, echoing the harmonious words of travellers past. Even Galadriel’s reflection showed her skin brighter than ever, her hair a radiant glow against the contrasting shadows of the deep wood. It was all it took for her to remember who she was— a friend of the light.

She could feel herself growing closer to it, her soul on the brink of serendipitous peace, when the stillness of solitude broke. A snap of a branch behind her sent adrenaline surging through her bloodstream. She reached for her pocket blade and—

“Galadriel?”

There he stood— flowing brown locks and armour that sculpted his figure to perfection— several feet away from her along the riverbank. His piercing grey eyes found hers, and the storm that had stirred up in her chest immediately stilled.

“Elrond,” She breathed out.

Their words retreated into the night; the forest’s life source quietly humming around them. If it weren’t for the river’s lullaby, the silence between them would have been deafening.

She’d wondered when this moment would come. With the burden of several elf families uprooted from their homes, Elrond had made it a matter of his own to renew their sense of stability. Between foraging for supplies, strategizing with Gil Galad, and tending to the villager’s wounds, they hadn’t had a sliver of a moment to themselves. They hadn’t had a moment this private since the ruse.

An age had gone by when Elrond spoke at last. “Is everything alright?”

Galadriel studied the angles of his face where the moonlight danced over him. Everywhere but his eyes, she looked.

“Is there reason for it not to be?” She played.

“I saw you come from your quarters. I suspect the healer elves have advised that you rest…”

Of course. She needn’t pretend that he couldn’t see through her— they were equally aware of his ability to do so. But it didn’t stop her from evading the truth.

“How can I rest? Knowing as much as I do of the evil that persists, despite the comfort of night?” She reasoned to him.

Elrond stepped closer, mirroring her stance beside the water. Their reflection together drew a regal image, sparkling as sun and moon combined.

He turned to face her. “I’m not sure there is any one elf that has spent as much time convincing me of the ring’s greatness as you have.” With his head he gestured slowly to the sanctuary surrounding them. “You are safe here.” His tender smile for her was the very depiction of grace. It was enough to open the door every time.

She kept her focus on the water, but her body faced his, only inches apart now. A sigh escaped his lips, and he brought his fingers to her face to turn it toward him.

Forced to meet his gaze now in the star’s spotlight, the elf commander lowered her defences. A single tear slid down her cheek, still warm from the previous rush of panic, as she melted into his touch.

“Elrond.” She paused to swallow the crackle in her speech. Desperate to keep her composure, her words came out in a whisper, “You have not seen what I have seen.”

He cupped her shoulders with both his hands as he studied her eyes. She shuddered when he brought his palm to her chest, allowing his thumb to trace where the fabric hid the near-fatal crown wound. When he met her eyes again, fear stared back at him. It was as if her very soul was pleading with him, begging him to do something— more than he knew he could.

“You do not fight this alone, Galadriel. I see your pain as if it my own. I promise theres not a moment of my waking where I do not wish to trade places with you— if the rings could grant me the chance to go back, you know I—“

“Elrond.” Galadriel broke his spiral. “These rings cannot prevent the damage from being done… only heal that which has been destroyed. You have fought battles harder than I ever will.”

He held her stare; the longest they’d locked eyes since he’d closed the final gap that had ever stood between them. Space felt objective when she was in his presence, like close was never close enough— but there had always been that small, unexplored chasm. He knew it all too well, now. Perhaps there needn’t be unexplored space anymore; still, he’d never dare to cross that sacred border again.

The air around them felt warm. Each note the river sang out wrapped them in a bittersweet sonnet, whispering words that had been written on their hearts but never uttered aloud. Galadriel recognized the urge she so often carried to come closer to him, rest her forehead against his. Only now, her foresight was muddled, and not even Nenya could warn her of what she might do if she were to share a breath with him now.

Still, the breeze laced around their stagnant bodies, weaving itself tighter and tighter. She had barely noticed that his hand had entwined itself into hers alongside them. For Elrond, it was an instinct he’d discovered a long time ago. In all but one moment, the river slowed to a still. Perhaps Galadriel was only imagining it, but the sudden quiet of the night and the way the starlight gently caressed her face thawed something in her. Something that had been frozen for thousands of years.

“Galadriel,” He began to say, but when he caught the moon’s reflection in her eyes, words escaped him. There was too much to say. Thank you— he wanted desperately to thank her— for forgiving him, and for trusting him. He wanted to encourage her, to loosen every worry that gripped her heart. And most of all, he wanted to tell her how radiant she looked, how captivating her light truly was.

She opened her mouth to speak over him, but someone else’s voice sounded out. A soft whistle rang in their ears, drawing their attention to the northwest hill.

Arondir, the Silven Elf, stood with a full quiver on his back, as he always did.

“Forgive me, My Lady,” The wind carried his words down the path, and he nodded toward the she-elf. “Commander Elrond is to know that I am taking his place at the east post. He’ll rest til the morning, when the High King will request his presence.”

Elrond looked to Galadriel before confirming the message with Arondir. “Very well,” he called back. “Thank you, my friend.” Arondir exchanged one gentle smile between the two of them before hiking off into the night. As quick and quiet as he had arrived, he left.

Elrond let out a breath that Galadriel swore she heard relief in. “I suppose my patrol for the night is over.”

Galadriel kept her face downward. The nightlife noise had returned, drowning out any persistent thoughts of intimacy that might’ve been just moments before. Elrond curved his neck upward to take in the view of the star speckled sky. “The sun will be up soon. I think it’s time you take your healer’s word to heart, no?” There was a velvety chuckle in his words. It prided him to know what was best for her. She’d never known kindness in this way, and even in her stubbornness, she welcomed it.

“Evil does not sleep, Elrond.” She teases with a playful glint in her eye.

His brow raised as that smooth grin slid onto his face. “Ah yes,” He taunted lightly, “And what does that say about you?”

Her mouth gaped open at him to say something, but his victory was clear. She squinted her eyes and scrunched her nose at his charmingly smug face. “Alright.” She walked ahead of him to start the trek back up the hill, “To prove my virtue, I am willing to let you take me home. I do not promise to let you watch me sleep, though.”

He caught up quickly and matched her walking speed. “A fair proposition. Though you fail to remember that we are both,” He leaned into her ear as their shoulders brushed, “Terrible promise keepers.” If it weren’t for the density of the forest, she was sure their giggling would wake the other members of the camp. They dropped their voices to a mumble as they made their way through the village of refuge.

Galadriel’s sleeping arrangement was high above the other forest dwellers, tucked into the cliffs and sheltered by a canopy of moss-glazed tree roots. Elrond had sought to it that she receive royal treatment from the few elven healers and maidens among them. He’d emphasized the importance of giving her a serene space to regain her strength, and the attendants had prepared it well. When he opened the curtain of the tent, his eyes examined the room. The water pitcher he’d had fetched for her remained perched aside her cot, and fresh clothes for her to wear had been folded at the foot of it. But the sheets were rumpled and twisted. Had he not come across his dear friend wandering a river bank in the dead of night, he wouldn’t bat an eye. Instead, his brow furrowed, and he cast an knowing glance to her.

Guilt fell over Galadriel’s face. In the time they’d been occupied with their own restorative efforts, she hadn’t had the chance to confess to Elrond. She knew how much care and attention he’d put into her treatment— the last thing he needed was another unknown on his shoulders. Despite the healing efforts of the elves, the use of the rings, and holistic elvish medicine, the nightmares had increased in frequency. It was only a matter of time before he, and perhaps everyone in the camp discovered the depravity of her situation.

She joined him beside the bed. His eyes found her face, but allowed her the grace to keep hers away. They stood for a long minute as his mind pieced it together.

“Evil does not sleep…” He muttered, turning to face his body to her. “What evil has been harrowing you?” His hand reached for her chin, gently turning her to him, eyes darting in between hers. In this moment, he needn’t beg. His tender gaze was all she needed for him to undo her.

Silent, hot tears were suddenly streaming down her face. Her breath staggered and her chest heaved as she tried to control herself. Elrond caught her immediately in his arms, leading her gently to the cot. They sat on the edge, and she expressed every last detail of the terrorizing nights she’d had. By the end of it, her best friend had swiped his own face several times. There was no pain in this world like the pain of knowing hers. His blood raged through his veins, and yet, somehow stilled to a stop upon hearing her anguish. He willed to do anything he could to make it right.

“I just feel so… alone, Elrond.” She managed through a few sharp breaths. “This darkness, it’s as if it only knows me, only seeks me, and comes for me when I’m at my weakest, alone at the mercy of the night…”

He didn’t care for personal space anymore. Her body fell perfectly into his when he pulled her in, and after several moments had gone by, their breaths synced into a slow cadence. When he was sure she had released all the remnants of her affliction, Elrond pulled away and took her hands in his. “Cin are ú- eriol, Galadriel.”

She raised her head to him, letting her eyes run all over his face. Only now had it became unbearably obvious how much she’d missed him. This is how it was supposed to be between them, no matter how much they sought to reason with it— they were two pieces of one prize. Constantly in each other’s orbit, regardless of distance or time. It didn’t matter what rift might come between them— being with him felt right.

For a fleeting moment, her body left the room and travelled in time to the day she thought she might never be with him again— Adar’s camp.

His eyes were soft on her the way they’d been on that day. She could feel it flooding her memory all over again, and in attempt to wrestle the thoughts back down, she pried her eyes away from him.

Elrond blinked himself out of the haze she’d brought him into. He wished not to steal sleep away from her, though he could sit and bask in her light for hours— whisper all his wonderings until time itself was of question. He stood up from the cot and grabbed the jar of water, a scrap of silk cloth, and passed them for her to dab her puffy eyelids. She was already retreating from the place of vulnerability she’d reached with him.

“You needn’t worry, Elrond. This battle will be won in the end. Even the internal ones will soon be of distant memory.”

“Not without rest, they won’t.”

He paused, familiarizing himself with the shaking unease that stirred in him before he was about to do something that he could never come back from. Something that any elf would surely question, and any human would doubtfully admire. He knew she was waiting for him to draw the curtain and leave her to her humble abode. Instead, he took off his cloak.

Galadriel blinked at him but remained seated. He watched her uncanny expression as he laid it at her bedside. Next he removed his armour and padding, along with his sword, resting it against the wall of the tent. She followed him with inquisitive eyes, but didn’t question him aloud until he gathered the remaining blankets and lay them adjacent to hers. Finally he took the pitcher from her hands and set it aside.

“Elrond,” She protested. “You cannot sleep here.” But her words sounded more of a query than a command.

He looked right through her, locking eyes with the part that was begging him to stay. In no life could he abandon it.

“And you cannot sleep alone.” He smiled, taking his place beside her on the makeshift mattress. He gave her no other chance to object.

“There will be no more question of it. If only I am to know of your agony, then it is I who shall seek to ease it.”

Galadriel’s face warmed and a subtle smile spread across her cheeks. Kindness, she thought. There is no kindness like his.

She carefully brought her body to lay beside him. Never had she pondered before how much space was acceptable between them, but now the suspicion hung in the air above their heads. Was it all that unusual to desire closeness? To want to wrap her legs around his, move his hand to the pocket of her waist, and breathe him in? She felt his eyes on her, and swiftly shut her own. Night was drawing her into a dream, she thought. It was only Elrond.

For Elrond, whatever consequence would come of his decision— either of head or heart— he wagered it a matter of tomorrow. He rested his gaze upon her face until he could keep his eyes open no more. With the soft sound of her sighing into slumber, he too, drifted from consciousness. The sun would rise and the new day would bring countless obstacles for him and the elves of lmladris to resolve— but in this moment, a space was carved out in their mortal realm. A space for only them, to heal, to rest— to be with each other. He wanted to stay in it forever, share this air with her forever.

A breath of heaven; a glimpse of Valinor on earth.

————————

Thanks for reading !!

Couple notes: Elrond says to Galadriel in Sindarin, “You are not alone” in case you can’t read elvish lol. I def cannot, so.

Did my best to proofread but it’s probably not perfect. I crunched to get this in last minute for elrondriel week!

Lastly, please don’t repost without giving credit <3 thanks so much!

xo, Jade

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

DARK CREAM WEEK: day 5- punish/reward

idk man i think your threats would work a lot more often if you stopped being so handsome about it fdrgbegh<333

dark cream week and comic are by @zu-is-here

[shywhumpauthor]

A Whumpee who is so touch starved that they will do literally anything for just a ghost of contact but who also hates being touched for whatever trauma reason, so they’re stuck in this hellish limbo between their desire to just be held by someone and the awful prickling feeling they get whenever someone so much as brushes against them.

Bonus points if their master/caretaker/teammates/whomever within the context has no problem being affectionate but they just won’t do anything unless they are literally asked or something of that sort.

This opens up a lot of potential for some really soft emotional scenes

(prompt 12)

[cookinguptales]

that said, as much as I've been struggling the past 48 hours or so, I have to admit that it has felt a little clarifying.

I've been playing the hell out of stardew valley, like I always do when I'm struggling with my PMDD, because the calming repetitive movements and bite-sized tasks (which induce the illusion of productivity) make it much easier to calm my mind and like...

I keep thinking "wouldn't it be nice to make something that soothes...?"

I felt a little embarrassed last night when I was writing about how I realized that AITNISTS would have meant the world to me when I was a queer, disabled teen feeling very broken and unlovable, and how now it almost feels like I'm writing bedtime stories for a ghost.

but... I think to some degree, that's nice, too... if I'm writing what soothes me, maybe it'll soothe someone else, too. making art that soothes people that feel broken... I think that would be nice. or... kind, at least. maybe.

it's something to aspire to, at least.

like sometimes I do feel this weird need to make something beautiful or complex or important but I guess "important" can mean a lot of different things, and so can "beautiful"...

I'm obviously never going to win any kind of literary prize with monsterfucking hurt/comfort but like. idk. maybe it's enough to write the kind of book that would have made me feel like I was capable of being loved and wanted when I was a kid.

especially if it helps anyone else now...

idk. it's a nice thought, at the very least.

[lupismaris]

..

[gentil-minou]

Gosh I need to edit this more before I actually start posting but I'm just so excited so here's a preview of my wangxian OUAT au, featuring wwx as emma, lwj as regina, and ayuan as henry (though are veering far away from both canon in both cases so no need to be familiar with the show to enjoy)

----

The doorbell rings.

He blinks once, then twice. Wei Wuxian isn’t normally one to get visitors, especially at this time of night. He tries to remember if there’s a no-candle policy in his lease his landlord might nag him about when the doorbell rings again.

He scrambles to his feet and stumbles to the door, already preparing an apology for something he probably didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to do and another apology in case he did know. He opens the door and sees….nothing.

Until he hears a quiet cough and looks down to see a little boy.

At first, he thinks maybe he’s a trick-or-treater who got a bit lost, but Wei Wuxian’s building is secured with a key and callbox entry. Plus, although he’s been wandering streets alone since forever, he’s pretty sure a kid this young would have a chaperone with him. He looks behind the kid and doesn’t see anyone else there.

But instead of asking something sensible like where his chaperone may be or even if the kid’s lost, he blurts, “How did you get in?”

The boy tilts his head and replies, “The front door. It wasn’t locked, I just walked in.”

So much for secured entry. But that doesn’t really answer why there is a human child at his door at nearly midnight. There’s definitely a law somewhere that says that’s illegal, probably.

The kid, who can’t be more than ten years old and really should have learned about stranger danger by now, beams up at him, as if technical breaking and entering is something to be proud of. Which, okay, maybe Wei Wuxian is kind of impressed by that.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” the boy asks, his smile so sweet and unassuming that before Wei Wuxian even realizes it, he’s turned to the side and let the boy in.

The kid is wearing a blue puffy coat and carrying a white backpack that has homemade floppy ears made of felt that make it look like a bunny. They bounce up and down as the boy walks inside and slips his shoes off. Wei Wuxian very maturely resists the urge to tug on those floppy bunny ears, though only just.

Shoes off, his socks patterned with fluffy white clouds, the boy turns back around to look up at Wei Wuxian. His entire face beams up at him as if he were a sunflower facing the sun, which wow what an ego-boost. He’s got dimples, little baby dimples that are very cute and look very pinchable but that doesn’t matter because there is a baby in his house! And okay he’s at least ten years old but regardless why is there a whole entire child in his apartment? What is one supposed to do when some random kid shows up at their doorstep and invites themselves in?

“Oh shit uh, wait not shit,” Wei Wuxian stammers. “Shit, sorry. Um. A drink, you want a drink?”

Ask the random child if they want something to drink, apparently. Perfect.

The kid nods, still giving him that doe-eyed look. Wei Wuxian doesn’t have much by way of child-friendly beverage options, but he wasn’t exactly expecting something like this tonight. He settles on milk that looks like it hasn't gone too bad yet. Besides, expired milk builds immunity and character in children, that's how it works, right? He pours a glass for the kid, making sure to give him the cleanest one even though there’s a tiny crack on the surface.

He guides the kid over to the coffee table and hands him the milk. The kid takes the glass and sinks onto the deflated beanbag while Wei Wuxian perches on the edge of the couch. He grabs a can of beer from the six-pack still on the floor beside the table and takes a sip. Wait, is that allowed? Can he drink alcohol in front of children?

The kid doesn’t seem to care. He takes a tentative sip of his milk and makes a very polite face that fails to mask his disgust, before putting the glass down on the table next to the forgotten cupcake. Fair, it’s nice to see him asserting boundaries and all that.

"Okay," Wei Wuxian says, amused despite the situation. "Who are you and why are you in my house at—" he checks his phone for the time"—five minutes to midnight on a Friday night?"

The kid doesn't answer right away. His eyes are still focused on the cupcake, but in a way he probably thinks is sneaky. Wei Wuxian tilts his head to get a better look and sure enough, there’s a furrow between his eyebrows like the kid is trying really hard to ask a difficult question. After a minute, it becomes clear he hasn’t worked out a nice enough way to ask, but it’s a good thing Wei Wuxian knows enough about being a hungry child to recognize one.

He nudges the cupcake over to him and says, "Help yourself." Immediately, the kid grabs the cupcake with all the care in the world, like it’s a priceless artifact and promptly devours it. Wei Wuxian can’t help but smile as he eats. Suddenly the cheap cupcake feels like an excellent choice.

When the kid finishes licking the last bits of frosting and crumbs off his fingers, he sits politely with his hands in his lap and looks longingly toward the kitchen. He’s still too nice to ask forthright, but Wei Wuxian knows better and he isn't a monster.

Wei Wuxian gets up and opens one of the cabinets to look for something that’s probably child-appropriate, pulling out a bag of his least spicy chips. Chips are made of potatoes which are vegetables which means it’s probably not that bad for kids. Either way, the kid takes the bag gratefully and eats the chips with relish, even though they’re definitely way too spicy for someone his age.

“Alright, alright. You’ve been fed. Now tell me, who are you?” he asks again, though he can’t stop the tiniest bit of fondness from creeping into his tone. It’s just that everything this kid does is so cute! He can’t help himself!

The kid stops eating and tries to speak, but what comes out instead are the quietest little coughs Wei Wuxian’s ever heard. He’s been eating these spicy snacks and slowly turning as red as they are, but he’s so polite he hasn’t said a thing about them.

All at once, Wei Wuxian realizes he likes this kid, despite knowing practically nothing about him. It’s strange. He hates the kids the customers at his job will bring sometimes, especially when their parents just let them loose like it's a daycare and not a coffee shop. Wei Wuxian isn’t mean or anything, it’s just that wrangling kids is way above his pay grade. He didn’t even get along with other kids when he was a kid. All the other foster kids stood clear of him pretty much as soon as the social worker told his foster parents he was known for being “emotionally dysregulated” and labeling him a problem child.

But this kid is different from all the others, even though Wei Wuxian can’t quite put his finger on what’s so special about him. He seems like the kind of kid who would politely ask for steamed oat milk and say thank you, then ask his parents to let him give Wei Wuxian the tip. When he finishes, he’d probably throw his trash out without anyone asking and call goodbye to him one last time before he leaves. Even just imagining it makes Wei Wuxian feel wistful for something he’s never really wanted before.

It doesn’t help that this kid’s got what must be the fluffiest hair he's ever seen, and those dimples! It takes all of Wei Wuxian’s self-control to keep himself from pinching those chubby cheeks.

He doesn’t quite succeed and leans forward anyway to ruffle the kid's hair. "Ask for water, you silly,” he says, already standing and heading back to the kitchen.

When he hands him the glass, the kid just looks up at Wei Wuxian with his big, bright brown eyes filled with wonder. He’s looking at Wei Wuxian like he has the answer to everything. Wei Wuxian doesn't, but it's nice to feel like someone thinks he knows what he's doing.

The kid drinks half the glass before clearing his throat and finally answering Wei Wuxian’s question. “I’m Sizhui, but you can call me A-Yuan. Or even Little Radish, if you want! You called me that before.” He says it all in one breath, practically vibrating with energy by the end.

Wei Wuxian pauses in the middle of taking a sip of his beer. He’s not sure why he would ever call anyone a radish, and he’s pretty sure he’s never met this kid before. Does A-Yuan have mistaken him for someone else? Could this kid have some weird memory loss, except one where he gains fake memories instead of losing them? It’s definitely not the strangest thing about this whole situation.

Like all problems Wei Wuxian doesn’t know how to deal with, he decides to ignore that for now and asks, “Okay, A-Yuan then, why are you here?”

“Because,” A-Yuan starts, leaning forward and looking at Wei Wuxian with all the seriousness someone pre-puberty could possibly possess. “I need your help.”

“…Okay…” Wei Wuxian replies. The world must truly be fucked if someone is coming to him for help. He hasn’t had a vegetable in a week, unless pizza actually does count. “What do you need help with?”

He’s expecting the kid to say something normal like “my homework” or “getting to the train station”, you know, normal things a kid would ask a stranger to help him with.

He’s not expecting A-Yuan to respond gravely, “To save the world and everyone we love.”

Wei Wuxian blinks, speechless. A-Yuan doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to speak as he lifts his backpack onto his lap and rummages through its contents. “My family’s in trouble, our family. Everyone we know is, and you’re the only one who can fix it. Look here, see, I’ve got this book, it’s all written here. There’s a curse that’s affecting everyone and we need to break it.”

He plops the book down on the coffee table. It’s not at all what Wei Wuxian expects. It’s hand-bound, with a simple red fabric cover that’s blank except for the title that’s written in Chinese calligraphy. It’s written entirely in Chinese, in fact, completely by hand with the same impeccable calligraphy. Inside are what appear to be a bunch of stories or folktales. There are beautiful gongbi illustrations on every other page, inked in bright colors with an incredible level of detail.

Wei Wuxian can’t help but be impressed. The book is something he would expect to see at a museum or in a period drama, not on his coffee table with its chipped surface and water stains.  

A-Yuan flips to a picture of a man with long hair dressed in black and red robes. He’s playing a flute as shadows dance and twist around his frame. Then tendrils lift high into the sky and block out the sun. He’s standing on a pile of human bones, to really sell the whole villain energy this guy’s got.

A-Yuan points at the guy. “That’s you, you see?”

Wei Wuxian does not see, he’s pretty sure he would have noticed if his body was covered in shadows. Also, he would need way more conditioner for that length of hair.

The kid continues, interpreting Wei Wuxian’s stunned silence as something else entirely. “You’re the only one who can help them, who can save us all.” A-Yuan thrusts the scroll out to Wei Wuxian, who’s too floored to do much more than take it from him. “So, I’m here to bring you back.”

Wei Wuxian has to admit, the guy in the picture does look pretty badass. But it’s still just a drawing, and there’s little to suggest this looks anything like him at all.

He glances up. A-Yuan smile is so bright and excited that Wei Wuxian wishes he could feel his excitement too. The guy in the picture does look super cool, like someone he’d want to dress up as when he was A-Yuan’s age.

But all he feels is concern and confusion. Before, he was actually starting to enjoy spending time with this kid, but something is wrong, though it’s not what A-Yuan thinks. There’s a random kid in his apartment late at night, making up stories. And whether he likes it or not, Wei Wuxian is the adult here. He has to remember that.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he says, and the smile slowly drops from A-Yuan’s face and Wei Wuxian feels like the absolute worst person on the planet for doing that to him. “But I don’t know what this is, or who you are. I want to help, you’ve just gotta give me some actual answers. Where are your parents? Do they know where you are?”

A-Yuan looks down and mumbles, “I was so sure you’d remember if you saw this, if you held it.” He tightens the hands on his knees into fists and looks up at him with a startling conviction. “But that doesn’t matter. I know it, I know who you are. You’re Wei Wuxian. This is you. And you’re the only person who can save us.”

Wei Wuxian rubs his temples and contemplates chugging the remainder of his beer. He holds it in his hand, wishing he’d gotten another pack. “Look, I don’t know how you know my name, maybe you saw it on some mail outside or something, but—"

"You're my dad!” A-Yuan hastily interrupts. “That’s why, that’s how I know!"

Wei Wuxian drops the can. There's a splash of something spilling all over the carpet and he should probably make sure it’s not too bad. He's too busy trying to figure out how he could have a ten-year-old at twenty-five when he was definitely still a virgin at fifteen.

The initial shock slips away, leaving him only more confused. He raises an eyebrow at A-Yuan, willing him to explain.

"Not my real dad," A-Yuan says, rolling his eyes like somehow Wei Wuxian is the one claiming something impossible. "But you're my dad in every way that counts."

Wei Wuxian wishes he hadn't dropped his drink. He'd really like to take a sip of it now. And several more, maybe the rest of the cans, too.

This day needs to end. He should have stayed home and drank his way to oblivion, so he’d have been too far gone to answer the door in the first place.

TBC

[izzy-b-hands]

Just submitted a new patient request to Anchor Health. Cross your fingers for me, so I can get set up w/a doc I can stick with who can handle my T and PCP stuff and maybe even mental health stuff? (their website let me mark all three as things I wanted them to provide care for at least)

and the poor local PP can get back to trying to help others without me taking up any more of their scarce resources and staff

[spiderz-n-circuitz]

unfollowing one of my long time moots without any hesitation because they posted a big thing about why cheating is fine 👍

[meikyuunolovers]

Recently found the link to a Ray Davies interview I was searching for since my hyperfixation started, and now that I found it, I can't stop thinking about this.

It's from the same interview as the bit about Ray telling Mick to "go off and turn gay" the night before the latter's wedding, and then talking more in depth about their friendship.

[ifyourereadingthisblinktwice]

i need to stop forgetting things exist the fucking second they leave my field of vision. why is is impossible for two things to occupy my mind at once especially when im tired. like. i feel like a sim. i feel like actions are being canceled and i just. move on. and completely forget what i was doing moments before. i fucking hate it

[edwardseymour]

so the author of jane seymour: an illustrated life reposted my ‘jane seymour x haunting through art’ compilation post on her facebook page …