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whosashan · 7 days ago

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Hugs Are Mandatory

PAIRING: clingy!lads men x gn!non-mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: Lately, your boyfriend had become impossibly dramatic—and hopelessly clingy. What's the reason for that?

A/N: I feel like my writing has really downgraded lately, so I felt like writing whatever I had in mind instead of doing a request ;p

Xavier

It wasn’t unusual for Xavier to cling to you, especially when he was sleepy—his heavy eyelids fluttering, the warmth of your scent lulling him into drowsiness as he melted into your embrace.

But lately? He had reached a whole new level of attachment. It was as if you were the very air he breathed, as though spending even a moment apart would drain him of life itself.

You were in the kitchen, making hot chocolate for your video game night, and yet—even now—he was right behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. The soft tickle of his breath against your skin sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Xavi…” You chuckled, the amusement in your tone obvious. “You could just wait on the couch, you know.”

“I’d much rather wait for you here,” he murmured, his voice honeyed and low, punctuated by a lingering kiss against your neck.

You exhaled, shaking your head in mock exasperation before turning to face him. His big, pleading eyes locked onto yours, his lower lip jutted out in a dramatic pout. And despite the sheer closeness between you, he still looked like he wanted more.

“What’s up with you and this sudden clinginess?” you asked, raising a curious brow, though your voice was tinged with amusement.

For a moment, he simply hummed, rubbing his cheek against yours like an oversized cat. You frowned. Now that you thought about it, Xavier did have some very cat-like tendencies.

But then… the silence stretched. Suspiciously so.

“Xavier.” Your tone sharpened slightly, prompting him to finally meet your gaze. That’s when you saw it—guilt. Clear as day. He looked like a scolded puppy.

“I… may have accidentally stained your favorite hoodie,” he admitted sheepishly. “With… curry.”

You blinked. Processing.

Then, in the calmest, most serious tone you could muster, you said, “Xavier, I suggest you start running.”

His eyes flickered with panic, scanning your face for any sign of mercy. There was none.

And so, he listened. He turned on his heel, ready to make his grand escape—but it was already too late. You leapt onto his back, tugging at his hair (just enough to make him suffer, not enough to really hurt him).

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU BETRAYED ME LIKE THIS!” you howled, whining dramatically as you clung to him.

“OW! OW—HEY—OWWW!” He yelped, flailing helplessly under your relentless assault. “I’M SORRY!”

...

After an intense battle, you sat victorious, hair disheveled, while Xavier nursed his wounds—namely, the light bite marks on his arms and his sore neck.

“Keep going,” you instructed, arms crossed as you watched him scribble an apology letter, his wrist cramping from the thousand-word essay you’d demanded as retribution.

He groaned, rubbing his aching hand. “I swear my love for you is being tested right now.”

Guess his clinginess wasn’t entirely unprovoked, after all.

Zayne

You stared at your boyfriend, bewildered, as he clung to you with a desperate intensity—his face buried in your chest, arms wrapped around you like he feared you might vanish. Zayne had his moments, always loved keeping you close, but this? This was… unusual. And incredibly distracting, too, as you felt the warm brush of his breath against your skin while you tried, in vain, to focus on your book.

“Aww, babe, did something happen?” You set the book aside, fingers threading through his hair in slow, soothing strokes.

He let out a deep sigh, his grip tightening instead of answering. The silence was enough to make worry creep up your spine.

Gently, you cupped his cheeks and tilted his face up toward you, only to be met with those eyes—big, soft, and guilt-ridden. Damn those puppy eyes.

“Zayne…” You narrowed your gaze, testing the waters.

His response? To promptly bury his face back in your chest, as if hiding from the inevitable.

Your fingers stilled in his hair. “Spill.”

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, in a voice lower than usual—like he was about to confess a mortal sin—he muttered, “Darling… You do know how much I adore you, don’t you?”

Your brow arched. Suspicion bloomed.

And then, it clicked.

“No. You didn’t.” Your voice teetered on the edge of disbelief.

Zayne sighed. “…I’m afraid I did.”

The limited-edition chocolate. The one your friend had brought from abroad. The one you had been saving for a special occasion.

Oh. Oh, he was dead.

"Zayne," you began, tone deceptively calm, "as much as I love you, I feel like I’m about to kill you right now.”

Finally, he had the decency to sit up, meeting your gaze with an expression that was somehow both stoic and dramatically sorrowful.

“I apologize…” he murmured, as if this was some tragic accident. “I’m not even sure how it happened. One moment, it was in the pantry and then… gone.”

You inhaled sharply. “AGAIN?”

And now?

Zayne sat in front of you, watching—suffering—as you mercilessly devoured all his favorite sweets. Every last thing he was craving, even the rare, limited-edition ones he had been saving.

You held up a delicate macaron, twirling it between your fingers. His eyes lit up, lips parting instinctively, hope flickering in his expression.

“Oh, I bet you’d love a bite, huh?” you mused, bringing it just close enough to tease him.

His mouth barely opened before—poof!—the macaron disappeared. Straight into your mouth.

You smirked. “But traitors don’t deserve sweets.”

Zayne let out a betrayed sigh, slumping back dramatically. As if things weren’t bad enough, you had also sentenced him to the ultimate punishment: a one-week kiss ban.

And for a man who craved your affection like air, that? That was the cruelest torture of all.

Rafayel

Rafayel was clinging to you—as per usual. His body shifted restlessly as he tried to find the perfect spot on your lap, his head nestled against your thighs, his face nuzzling into them like a needy cat.

But something was… off.

Normally, he'd be whining about how comfy you were, or dramatically declaring that he could stay like this forever. But right now? He was unusually quiet. And that immediately set off alarms in your head.

"Raf," you murmured, brushing stray strands of hair from his face, fingers gently tracing his cheek. "Is something bothering you?"

He blinked up at you, and that was when you saw it.

The guilt.

His big, guilty eyes—a look you knew all too well—sent a shiver of suspicion down your spine.

And then, in a deep, tragic sigh, he began.

"Cutie…" He stroked your thighs, voice dripping with exaggerated sorrow. "Is your love unconditional? Would you still love me, even if I committed the worst of crimes?"

Your stomach dropped.

"Rafayel." His full name left your lips like a warning, making him tense. His expression somehow grew even guiltier.

"What did you do?" Your voice was calm—too calm. Your eye twitched slightly.

He hesitated. Then, finally, he exhaled and averted his gaze.

"I... I didn’t mean to," he mumbled. "It just kind of happened..."

Your arms folded. "Go on."

He swallowed.

"I—" He sighed again, looking at you like a man on death row. "I watched the new episode of Love Island without you."

Silence.

The betrayal.

Your breath caught in your throat. "You did what?!"

The sheer audacity. The disrespect. The ultimate relationship crime.

"How could you do this to me?!" you gasped, yanking your legs out from under him so fast that his head hit the couch with a dull thud.

"Ow—!" He winced, sitting up in a panic. His hands grasped yours in desperation. "Wait, don’t do anything drastic! I didn't mean—"

"It's too late now..." You freed your hands from his grip with a slow, deliberate motion.

He stilled.

You both knew what that meant.

...

"OW! Cutie, have mercy—!" Rafayel hissed, thrashing slightly beneath you.

You straddled him with a deadly smirk, tweezers in hand, plucking his body hair with ruthless precision. A sharp yank—his armpit. Another—his stomach. Then his leg. He flinched every time, eyes wild with regret.

"This is cruel!" he whined. "This is inhumane!"

"You did this to yourself." You gave him a faux-sympathetic smile, reaching for his arm next.

Another pluck. Another wince.

Rafayel groaned, flopping back dramatically. "Never again…" he muttered.

You leaned in, whispering in his ear with a wicked grin.

"That's what they all say."

Sylus

You sat comfortably on Sylus’s lap, his arms wrapped around you with a vice-like grip, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Cuddling like this was nothing new—Sylus lived for moments like these—but tonight, there was a different edge to it. A certain... desperation.

His fingers pressed into your back as if to mold you against him, his body tensed yet unwilling to let go.

“What’s got you squeezing me so tight, Sy?” you teased, dragging your fingers along his spine, relishing the way he shivered under your touch.

“Perhaps I just like having you close.” His voice was smooth—too smooth. Normally, the words would’ve made you melt, but there was something in his tone. A certain something you knew all too well.

You stilled. “...Did you do it again?”

The moment the words left your lips, his hold on you tightened.

“…Have I mentioned how absolutely stunning you look today?” He cooed, his lips brushing your skin. Classic. His go-to distraction tactic.

“Nice try,” you deadpanned. “Sylus. Did you, or did you not?”

He sighed, dramatically, like he was the victim here. “He was getting too touchy.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Sylus, you’re going to give the poor guy a heart attack!”

The guy—as in your coworker. The one Sylus had sworn up and down was too friendly with you. The one he had, on multiple occasions, subtly and not-so-subtly terrified to the brink of quitting.

“You don’t need that job,” he muttered, pressing his lips against your shoulder as if that would erase his sins.

You rolled your eyes. “You know what that means.”

He went silent.

You both knew what that meant.

...

"Must I really do this?” Sylus sighed, standing stiffly in front of your workplace like he was being sent to the gallows.

“Yes,” you said firmly. “You will apologize. Or no cuddles and kisses for a week.”

At that, his eye twitched. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.” You smirked, sticking your tongue out at him, watching as his lips quirked into the smallest of smiles before he returned to his signature look of disgusted annoyance.

Just then, the door to the building swung open, and there he was—your coworker. Upon spotting you, he smiled… but then his gaze shifted.

And the second he laid eyes on Sylus?

He yelped and bolted in the opposite direction.

You blinked. “Did he just—”

You turned to Sylus. He was smirking. Smug. As. Hell.

“How am I supposed to ‘apologize’ now, sweetie?” he mused, feigning innocence, though the satisfied glint in his eyes betrayed him.

What a smug, infuriating bastard.

Caleb

Caleb was glued to you—more than usual. His arms wrapped around your waist like a lifeline, his face buried in your shoulder as he let out a deep, dramatic sigh. You barely moved an inch before he was pulling you back in, holding you tighter.

Now, Caleb was always affectionate, but this? This was next-level.

“…Okay, what did you do?” you asked suspiciously, stopping your fingers from running through his hair.

He stiffened.

“What?” He forced out a laugh, lifting his head to look at you with far too much innocence. “Can’t a guy just be madly in love with his gorgeous partner?”

You squinted.

“Caleb.”

“…Yes, my love?”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

He hesitated. His eyes darted to the side. Then—a guilty smile.

Your stomach dropped.

“I may have tripped and somehow landed on your bed, and somehow the diary was open, and somehow my eyes just happened to read the page about how much you love my arms—”

“CALEB.” You pushed him away (he immediately latched back on). “You read my diary?!”

“Hey, hey, don’t be mad!” He tightened his hold, nuzzling into your neck. “I love you even more now! You think I’m devastatingly handsome, and I quote—”

You groaned. “Caleb, you absolute menace—!”

“You wrote a whole paragraph about my voice, pipsqueak” He grinned, shameless. “I didn’t even know you paid attention to—”

“You’re dead to me.”

"Noooo!" He practically climbed into your lap, pulling your arms around him like you had to hold him. “You can’t be mad at me! I am your devastatingly handsome boyfriend, after all—”

"You know what this means." You cut him off, smirking.

"You’re my slave for a whole week."

Caleb gaped at you. “That’s cruel.”

"You deserve it."

"But—"

"You will be fetching me snacks, running my baths, giving me foot rubs, carrying my bag—"

“This is inhumane.”

"Oh, I’m not done." You grinned wickedly. "You will also cook me breakfast every morning, write me a love letter every night, carry me whenever I want, and—oh, this is my favorite part—you will officially be my personal hype man. If I so much as walk into a room, you will dramatically announce my presence and remind everyone that I’m the most beautiful person alive."

Caleb’s jaw dropped.

"You’re insane."

"You read my diary."

"...Fair."

"Oh, and one more thing," you added. "You're now on kiss restriction for three days."

His entire world shattered. "WHAT?!"

"That's right." You tapped his nose condescendingly. "No kisses. No cuddles unless I initiate them. No sweet-talking your way out of this, Mr. Snoops-Through-My-Diary."

He groaned, flopping back onto the couch. "I regret everything."

"You should." You smirked, patting his cheek.

But deep down, you knew Caleb was about to be the most over-the-top servant in history. And honestly? You were so ready for it.

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 4 months ago

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I think the reader's response to this post is probably going to either be "That's incredibly minor" or "Holy shit YES I'M ALSO PROUD", depending on people's personal experiences with academia, but:

Today I am incredibly proud of one of my students.

In the interests of disguising identities, let's call them Ceri. Ceri is one of my third year undergrads (meaning their final year, for anyone unfamiliar with UK uni systems.) They transferred to us last year, and within two weeks I was giving them the contact info to get to Student Services and get themself screened for ADHD; they have some mental health struggles, but I clocked pretty quickly that they STRUGGLE with procrastination, and punctuality, and attending 9am lectures in particular. Naturally, as is the way of my people, it took them a further four months to remember to go to the screening. Lol. Lmao. Rofl, in fact.

But, they did it eventually! Their screening lit up like a Christmas tree at the ADHD section, and they got a free laptop and optional one week extensions and a study support worker named Claire. This has helped tremendously, and although mental health + until-then-unsupported ADHD meant their academic profile had slid sideways somewhat, with the new tools available and a couple of resits they passed the year and hit this year running.

Until, that is, the last fortnight.

Now, I take them for a Habitat Management module that has two assessments: an academic poster presentation before Christmas, and a site-specific management plan in May. Naturally this means we are at that happy point in the year for the poster presentations. I give out the briefs at the start of the year, so they've had them since October; I've also been periodically checking in with them all for weeks, to make sure they don't have any major burning questions. The poster presentation was to pick a species reintroduction project, pull the habitat feasibility study out of it, and then critique that study; Ceri chose to look at the hen harrier reintroductions proposed for the southern UK. All good.

Which brings us nicely to today! Ceri's presentation is scheduled for 2.30. At 11am-1pm, I am lecturing the first years on Biodiversity, while Ceri is learning about environmental impact assessment with a colleague I shall call Aeron. This means we are separately occupied during those same hours.

Nevertheless, Aeron messages me at about 12.

"I think Ceri needs to see you after your lecture," he writes. "They're panicking, I genuinely think they might cry. I'm worried. Are you free at 1?"

I say I am. At 1, I get lunch and sit in the common area; Ceri comes to see me. To my personal shame, imagine all of the following takes place while I stuff my face with potato.

Now: this part is going to be uncomfortably familiar to anyone who has ever tried higher education with ADHD, especially unmedicated. It certainly was for me. All I can say is, I never had the courage to take the step here that Ceri did.

"I have to confess," they said quietly, and Aeron was right, they were fighting back tears. "My mental health has been so, so bad for the last fortnight. I've left it way, way too late. I don't have anything to present."

"Nothing at all?" I asked.

"I've been researching," they said helplessly. "I found loads on the decline of the hen harrier. But it wasn't until last night that I finally found a habitat feasibility study to critique. Generally... I've been burying my head about it, and it just got later and later. I thought I should come in for Aeron's lecture, and I should at least tell you."

This part is a minor thing, right? But honestly, I remember being in the grip of that particular shame spiral. I never did manage to tell my lecturers to their faces. I just avoided. I honestly can't imagine having the courage it took them to come in and tell me this, rather than just staying home and avoiding me.

"I think..." they said hesitantly, "I know I can submit up to a week late, for a capped mark. I think I need to do that, and apply for extenuating circumstances. But then I'll have both Aeron's assignment and yours due at the same time."

Which meant they would crumble under the pressure and likely struggle to pass both; so me, being as noble and heroic as I unarguably am, stopped eating potato and said, "Let's make that plan B."

(It was good potato. I am a hero.)

So, we made plan A: I moved their timeslot to 4.30, giving them three and a half hours. The shining piece of luck in this whole thing was that this was the crunch time assignment - if it had been Aeron's, they'd have had to try and write a 3000 report in that time. But for me, all they had to write was an academic poster, and those things are light on words by design. We found them a Canva template, and then we quickly sketched out a recommended structure based on the brief: if it's habitat feasibility, look at food availability, nesting site availability, and mortality risks in the target release site. Bullet point each. Bullet point how well the study assessed each. Write a quick intro and conclusion. Take notes as you go, and present the poster itself at 4.30.

"You think I should try?" they asked doubtfully, looking like I'd just asked them to go mano-a-mano with a feral badger.

"If you run out of time, so be it," I said. "But your brain is trying to protect you from a non-existent tiger. That's why you've procrastinated - it's been horrible, and you've been shame spiralling, and your brain is trying to shield you from the negative experience; but it's the wrong type of help for this situation! So while you're sitting there working on it, hating life, every time your brain goes 'This is hopeless, I can't do it', you think right back 'Yes I can, it just sucks.' And you carry on. Good?"

"Good," they said. "I'm going to mainline coffee and hole up in the library. Enjoy your potato."

And then, of course, I had to go and watch the other students' presentations, so that was the end of me being any help at all. I spent all afternoon wondering if they were going to manage it, or if I would be getting a message at 4.25 telling me they'd failed, and would have to submit late and hope for an EC.

And Tumblrs

Tumblrs

Let me FUCKING tell you

They turned up at 4.15, fifteen minutes early, wearing a mask of grim, harrowed determination and fuelled by spite and coffee, and they pulled up that poster and started presenting and yes, okay, I'll admit their actual delivery was dramatically unpolished and yes, they forgot to include the taxanomic name for the hen harrier on the poster and yes, fine, I admit that there were more than a few awkward moments where they lost their place in their hastily scribbled notebook but LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU -

They smashed it. It was well-critiqued, it had a map, it had full citations, it had a section on the hen harrier's specific ecology and role in the ecosystem, it had notes on their specific conservation measures. They described case studies they'd read about elsewhere. They answered the questions we threw at them with competence and depth. There was analysis. All that background research they'd done came right to the fore. They were even within the time limit by 15 seconds.

You would never have known they'd produced it in three hours, from a quivering and terrified mess fighting the bodily urge to dehydrate via tear ducts. After they left, the second marker and I looked at each other and went "So that was a 2:1, right?"

I caught up with Aeron downstairs and he was beaming. Apparently Ceri had seen him on their way out, and had gone over to talk to him. Aeron said the difference between the Ceri of this morning and the Ceri of then was like two different people; in four hours, they'd gone from their voice literally breaking as they admitted the problem, ashamed and broken, to being relaxed and happy and smiling.

"I reckon I've passed," they apparently told Aeron, pleased. "Maybe even a 2:2. There's things I wish I'd had the time to do better, but I'll be happy if I passed."

They won't know until late January what they got, because we're not allowed to release marks until 20 term days after hand-in, and the Christmas holidays are about to hit. But I'm really hoping I can be there when they're released.

But mostly, I'm just... insanely proud of them. I cannot tell you how happy I am. And I know, I know, obviously this is not a practice I would want to see them do regularly, or indeed ever again, and it only worked because they were fucking lucky with the assignment format, but like... when life is just punching you in the face, and you hit a breaking point... isn't it nice? That just this once, you pull off a miracle, and it's fixed? The disaster you thought was about to ruin you is gone? To get that relief?

Anyway. Super super proud today.

#I mean I'm often proud of my students of course #the warm fuzzy feeling is one of the best parts of lecturing #but MAN this one got me today #the professional world of careers and tasks #adhd

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nataliedecorsair · 5 months ago

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I wanted to give you some of Pticenoga's Borderlands AU backstory, how she was raised by Shade and before starting her shenanigans with Vaughn.

Plus a bonus comic about how she decided to set up a meeting for Vaughn and Shade, but didn't tell Vaughn who is supposed to be there x) Mostly because Vaughn has met Shade before in his macabre World of Curiosities museum and thought that Shade is too weird for him. Well, that's the kind of person that would raise a feral harpy siren, gotta deal with it!

When she was very young, nothing bothered her much as she was just a wild baby exploring the world x) And Shade was a good father figure to her. However, as she grew older, she realized that she doesn't really "fit in": yeah, Pandora is a crazy planet, but not every person there is crazy. There are plenty of "regular folk" like Shade or other people from their town - and many others. And she was frequently called a monster, a mutant and many other things by the regular kids and even adults. She was wild though, could bite them or fight with them in a pretty feral manner, and, even though she protected herself, it didn't help the situation much. She wasn't crazy enough (and too small) to fit in with the psychos or bandits, was "too human" for actual monsters living on Pandora, and for a long time she had no idea she was a Siren, as even for Sirens she looked too different. Only when she hit her teens, she was able to confirm that she is one, started using her powers, and in her human form she could see the full extension of the glowing pattern she had on her skin. She still, however, didn't know why she wasn't born "normal", and there were no older Sirens around.

At some point, she decided to become independent and live on her own. Her "wild" upbringing was helping that a lot, and she felt fine being away from people. She'd still visit Shade frequently, of course, and at some point she'd even met Zer0 and could hang out with him for some time. As Zer0 is a mystery himself, they had some common ground between them (though constantly listening to his haiku were exhausting xD). Sadly, Vault Hunters attract attention, not always positive, and that was the reason why she got spotted by a big bandit gang (could be the beginning of Vallory's gang, but before she took over). And local scientists like Tannis already declared that there may be some connection between Sirens and the Vaults. And they noticed that she's a Siren, but also pretty young (and dumb). After the first Vault on Pandora was opened, there was plenty of weird and valuable stuff around, but it wasn't so easy to get it when you're just regular bandits. And when Eridians, the aliens that are guarding the Vault, are everywhere. The Sirens like Lilith were too strong for them, and hiring a Vault Hunter is expensive, so they decided to wriggle into her favor and use her to gain access to the area. She didn't know she was dealing with bandits first, she naively thought it's a rare case of nice fellows just wanting to be friends and such, plus the Vault could have answers about her origin, and the new "friends" confirmed it.

At some point, she realized she was being used, and got into a fight with the bandits - and lost, as there were too many of them, and she had too little experience, and they knew about Shade. She got kidnapped and told that she'd do everything they told her to do, or they'd kill Shade, so she had to obey. She helped them to fight the way to the Vault and get some of the riches, and during the process she felt that she really does have a connection with Eridians - they boosted her powers and helped her to get free, and kill every presenting member of the gang. She was worried about Shade though, so she left immediately to find him before the remaining members found out what happened and could harm him. But she was too late - the water source in their town of Oasis was poisoned, and every single person there died. Except Shade though - he lasted longer, but dehydration made him insane, and he turned corpses into the stuffed dummies he could talk to (though she didn't have much of a problem with this part). As she was gone for at least several months, he didn't believe she's real, and she had to adapt to the new reality.

She never got back to the Vault after that as she felt it was a source of more trouble than anything good (in her view, the price was too much for a bunch of physical stuff).

That lasted for years, and became a bit easier as her powers, enhanced by the Eridians, wasn't only serving the destruction, but could eventually "heal" some part of Shade's mind, so the moments of clarity became more frequent (she didn't know it's the reason, though). And you still need money, whether you like it or not, so, when Shade decided to use his World of Curiosities as a spot of illegal deals and smuggling, she didn't resist, but would watch over him in the shadows in case something goes wrong.

Eventually, she calmed down and just embraced herself. And, after some time, she met Vaughn, whose personal struggles she could sense right away, as she had to experience "being different" herself.

#artists on tumblr #digital art #pticenoga #vaughn #shade #art #vaughn borderlands #shade borderlands #tales from the borderlands #borderlands AU #harpy #siren #woman #monster #original character #character development #nataliedecorsair #natalie de corsair

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