#the deadline for turning those in is not soon enough for it to be easy for me to focus on them

[trashpandato]

Romance

Earth customs are weird. 

Kara knows this; has known it for many years. And sure, she’s spent all those years trying to learn, trying to understand what makes humans tick so she could mimic it successfully enough to not stand out. 

“Fake it til you make it”, Alex used to say, implying that if Kara spent enough time pretending, human behaviour would eventually become second nature to her.

And fake it she did. Some Earth customs were easy enough to adopt. Like wide smiles that cover up her pain, the concept of comfort foods or all-you-can-eat buffets, or even humans’ tendency to find excuses to turn any random day into some kind of celebration - Hump Day, Tax Deadline Day, Polar Bear Plunge Day, National Frozen Yogurt Day. (She’s half-convinced that most of these are inventions by Alex to confuse her, but she celebrates National Gummy Worm Day on July 15th anyway.)

But if she’s honest, a lot of the things that humans do, their customs, their rituals, still seem a little strange to Kara. Even after years of trying to understand.

Chatting up strangers, for example. On Krypton, interactions with someone not known to a person would have required some sort of intermediary, an introduction through a trusted person. If Kara had even dared to walk up to a stranger to talk to them, she would have faced discipline not just from her family but also from the broader community. When she first landed on Earth, she relied on Eliza or Alex to make introductions and felt intensely uncomfortable when kids at school would randomly talk to her. It took her a long time to believably mimic these kinds of human interactions, and if she’s honest, she still prefers an official introduction over just chatting up people out of the blue. (It’s why she was happy to tag along with Clark for her first encounter with Lena.)

Or there’s the act of blowing out candles on a birthday cake. Extinguishing light instead of keeping it burning as a means of celebration. The first time Eliza prompted Kara to blow out her candles, Kara was horrified and it took a lot of gentle reassurances from her adoptive mother to even consider partaking in this peculiar human tradition. To this day, Kara prefers her candles away from her cake and to leave them burning for as long as safely possible.

And then there are all the gestures associated with romance. With Krypton’s system of arranged pairings based on compatibility across a number of important factors, there was no need to wine and dine anyone. She could remember her parents showing affection for each other, but there was never any ritualized approach to romantic moments. Humans, on the other hand, humans have rules about dates, about which flowers are appropriate to give to someone and when, about who pays the bill at the fancy restaurant, about slow-dancing and little gifts and how many feelings to reveal and when. 

It’s a lot to keep track of and confusing, and all the romance movies in the world cannot prepare Kara for her first official date with Lena.

She shows up with plumerias, because she knows Lena likes those and she knows, knows, that she’s supposed to bring flowers. But then Lena has tears in her eyes as soon as Kara hands them over, and she’s also wearing this dress that hugs her body in ways that make Kara’s higher brain function fizzle out. So she doesn’t protest when Lena pulls her inside with her hands fisted into the lapels of Kara’s suit jacket, follows Lena’s lead when she pushes her against the kitchen island and kisses her senseless, and finds herself naked and sweaty in Lena’s bed not long after that.

When Kara’s stomach rumbles a couple of hours later and Lena calls to have some food delivered, Lena chuckles.

“We kind of did this all backwards.”

Kara frowns. “How so?”

“Well,” Lena leans in and presses her lips close to Kara’s ear, making her shiver, “usually, the clothes come off after the fancy dinner.”

“You humans have a lot of rules about romance,” Kara huffs, and Lena laughs.

“I suppose we do. But I’m happy to break every single one of them with you, Kara Zor-El.”

[punnkishlen]

staying up so late to focus on a project that you're practically falling asleep while you code, eyes fluttering and burning from the bright screen in your face - and you're pulled out of the focus by your little robot.

it's almost a relief, seeing their face after focusing for so long, but the relief is short-lived.

hey, when did they get you to sit on their lap?

you go to turn around, at least to face them, until you can feel it.

the fucking attachment you made for them a week ago. the cock they begged so hard for, mechanical eyes flitting between every finger twitch as you put it together. the cock now nestled so perfectly in you.

you aren't processing it properly as they say something to you - something about how you'll get more if you finish your work. it's supposed to be your motivation tonight, to get to your goal and relax properly after. what you *can* process is the small motors running. it's easy to forget about a feature *you* were adding to it until it's in you, isn't it?

soon enough, your eyes go to the computer screen once more, and you're back to work. struggling, obviously. every so often, you can feel those little motors move just a bit more. of course you made it into a vibrator - it was a good idea at the time!

but that was before. now, is when your own creation has the advantage. it's getting harder and harder to actually focus, easier to let your eyes close, and just.. feel it. just for a second.

it's not your fault the pc was turned off! the power button was probably nudged when the warming turned into pounding, but that's only a possibility! and it's not your fault that you missed the deadline! your own creation fucked you stupid! how can that be your fault?

(writing this instead of doing my finals)

[peachybeom]

Stress Relief ♡

sfw, soobin x reader, college au.

blonde fluffy soobin is so cute ill eat him-

Soobin hurriedly made his way to your apartment, taking the stairs instead of the elevator believing the latter took more time.

He had been trying to reach you for almost a day now but got no response. Growing impatient, Soobin had left you texts and voice notes but unfortunately all of those remained unanswered as well.

Finally giving up on waiting, your boyfriend had contacted your roommate-who was out for the weekend, for the apartment passcode as he made up his mind to go check on you himself.

He punched the code in the machine and anxiously opened the door to look for you. His eyes scanned the living room for a few seconds, until they fell on a huddled figure sitting down on the floor.

You were hunching down, sitting cross legged resting your head gently on the table in front of you. Your eyes were shut tightly while your lips parted slightly letting out soft periodic breaths.

Soobin quietly closed the door before him and lowered himself to your level, he let out a breath of relief and gazed at your soft features before brushing a few wild strands of hair from your face.

You stirred lightly at his touch but showed no signs of waking up, that was when Soobin noticed all the books and pens and crumbled papers that surrounded your sleeping figure, you were even holding a pen between your fingers as you slept.

The smile fell from Soobin's face as soon as it had appeared because he realised how tired you must have been. Your college midterms were about to commence in about two weeks and you were determined to work your ass off for it, even it meant studying vigorously without taking any breaks.

As much as Soobin wanted to support you through this tough time, his resources were limited too as he was a film major and you a medical one. Plus past few months had been hard on him too, constantly busy finishing assignments and reaching deadlines.

Soobin hated seeing you stressed but he had promised to not bother you for an entire month during your midterms because he really didn't want to be a distraction, though he would almost text you daily and occasionally call, to check up on you and your studies.

Though you both weren’t able to talk for long, just hearing your voice once in a while was enough for Soobin to go on.

You time and again reassured him that you were doing fine but witnessing the current situation, it was clear that you clearly were not and had been pulling one too many all nighters.

 You gently moved and rubbed your eyes sleepily as the sound of clinking cutlery awoke you to consciousness.

You stretched your arms behind your back and were ready to yell at your roommate for being so loud- when you turned your head and spotted an all too familiar figure in the kitchen.

"Soobin!" You exclaimed loudly, grabbing the boy's attention.

Your boyfriend turned around and raised both of his hands towards his sides, a bright smile appearing on his face as he spoke

"Hi bunny,"

"I'm sorry if I accidentally woke you up, I actually came over to check on you because -"

His words were cut off when you-in a matter of seconds strode across the room and wrapped your arms around his tall body.

"There there, easy tiger" Soobin chuckled patting your hair with his hand.

"I missed you so much" You mumbled, burying your face in his shirt.

"That's why you are wearing my hoodie- the one I thought I had lost months ago" Soobin said in a teasing tone.

"Yeah, it's actually really comfortable, I need to raid your closet more often" You replied, looking up- God you missed his beautiful face.

Soobin laughed before gently breaking the hug between the two of you and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you too baby, I got so worried that maybe you had fallen sick or something because you weren’t picking up my calls or answering to my messages.” He said while caressing your cheek.

You felt a pang of guilt for making Soobin worried like this.

“Sorry, I’d put my phone on silent while studying and did not even realise when I fell asleep” You mumbled.

That’s when he noticed the light bags under your eyes and the pale color of your skin.

"You should take a break Y/N, you deserve it," Soobin said in a concerned tone before placing another kiss on your face.

"Yeah, you're right I really should," You sighed heavily.

"Great! so I'll just finish cooking this ramen, then we can try to clean up the mess that is your living room and have a movie night?"

 After having dinner- which tasted so good, even though it was just regular ramen. Soobin let you pick a movie which could help you unwind.

You both were halfway through the movie when your eyes began to drift sideways rather than being on the screen.

It was a good movie, it really was! But whenever Soobin was around you, you could focus on nothing but him. His pretty face demanded attention all the damn time, even if that wasn't his intention.

The movie still had a long way to go but you were growing restless. You extended your arm towards your boyfriend and placed your palm on top of his open one.

Soobin absent-mindedly curled his fingers against yours intertwining your fingers, too absorbed in the movie playing before him.

Next, you raised your other hand and grazed your fingers on his ear, softly pulling down the earlobe. This made Soobin turn to face you, his eyebrows furrowed together in curiosity.

You wordlessly ran a hand through his fluffy blonde hair before running a finger down his nose and giving it a light tap.

"What are you doing," Soobin asked letting out a breathy laugh.

You finally got up to and placed yourself on either side of his knee, strangling him between your legs on the couch. Then you placed your palms on both his cheeks and squeezed them between your hands.

"You are like my stress relief squishy. I want to pull you, squeeze you, poke you and viola all the stress is gone," You answered in a cheeky tone.

Soobin laughed loudly at your answer, his eyes closing and forming cute little crescent shapes.

"Jeez that's one weird way of saying you want to make out with me, bunny."

He then put his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him till your noses touched and whispered,

"Bet a squishy can't to this though,"

Soobin captured your lips between his and you let out a surprised squeak but almost melted under his touch right after, hands now grabbing the soft material of his shirt.

Soobin's mouth travelled down leaving small kisses as he made his way through. One hand teasing the waist band of your pyjama while the other slipping under the oversized hoodie. You let out a sigh of contentment and bliss, taking you away from all the anxieties and worries of the past week.

Holding onto him tightly, eyes closed, feeling him all over you, you realised being close to Soobin was really the best way to relieve stress.

[wrizard]

nedving modern au: a long-awaited kiss

talked myself into a tizzy regarding modern ned/jirv au c/o @irvingcoded over on twt here, in which john, pastor, meets ned, architect, during church renovations, and very slowly ruins his own (married with children) life. i couldn't stop thinking about it.

have this! i have edited it not at all!!

*

“oh, it’s perfect,” john marvels, tracing his fingertips over the tablet screen with reverence. the final window design: a work of art. glass, colour, light – fine angles, sunshine, abstract enough to please the artist in him, a perfect synthesis of contemporary and traditional. john’s guts fizz in delight. he zooms out, then in again, then carefully sets it back on the desk. “it’s going to be beautiful – i can’t believe it, you’ve – you’re a miracle worker.”

edward shifts his shoulders the way he does when he’s flustered, and even goes charmingly pink about the ears. “i’m certainly glad you like it. i’m no painter or anything – most of it was off your sketches, i only made it a bit simpler, is all.”

john’s cheeks ache. he’s grinning, wide and real and easy as anything. he wants to laugh. he’s electric all over. he wants to – shout, or jump for joy, or fling his arms around edward’s shoulders in an embrace. there’s no one around to see them, not here in edward’s tiny office, not after hours; he gives in just a little, letting himself spin once in place.

edward laughs, sweet and warm. it’s a lovely laugh, the sort that carves those long dimples in his cheeks – john’s surprised him again. “it’s just a plan,” he says. “haven’t even found an artist. we’ll have to raise extra funds for the commissioning, but not too much. no need for any bake sales just yet.”

“bake sales,” john laughs, and grabs edward by the shoulders, gives him an enthusiastic shake. “i’ll – i’ll make a hundred trays of brownies, ned, a thousand, i don’t care! it’s perfect!”

that smile – edward’s ducking his head to hide it, the weasel, and john won’t have it, can’t stand to miss the brightness in his eyes, the sparkle that makes him look a decade younger. john lets his arms go. grabs his head instead. edward’s five o’clock shadow bristles against john’s palms as john tips him up to look properly. and – yes, goodness, those dark eyes glitter in the lamplight, the glow of the tablet turned to matching blocks of star-blue floating on deep chestnut-brown.

“you’re brilliant, edward,” says john. “you’re – oh, you talk such nonsense about yourself, you’re – brilliant. you’re a gift. god sent you to me as a gift.”

edward’s grin falters. his gaze darts back and forth between john’s eyes.

they’re very close together.

the giddiness swirling in john’s belly swoops up into his throat. edward’s lashes are so dark against the fairness of his skin. john ought to bother him to come out hiking again, soon. get some colour back into him. some of that light. all the warmth that’s inside him, burning, hidden under dark circles and deadlines and all those bizarre coffee drinks.

“john,” edward breathes, strangely.

john sways in closer. it feels – natural. easy. edward is so warm in his hands. this is what friends do, john thinks; they touch each other. he’s seen it. he remembers how george kissed edward on both cheeks, and how edward laughed and shoved playfully at george’s arm, not the sort of shove to push someone away but to bring them closer. what would it feel like, to kiss his cheek? what if –

tipping edward’s head to one side, john presses his lips to edward’s cheekbone.

it’s a peck, is all. a way to siphon off a fraction of the joy bubbling up in john’s lungs, his veins, his heart. an expression of the love he bears his friend. stubble pricked a bit at his lips, perfectly; edward was, of course, soft beneath the sharpest bits, and almost fever-hot against john’s mouth.

edward makes a tiny, quiet noise in the back of his throat.

“a miracle,” murmurs john, and, bowing to the sudden urge – no one to see them – no one to know – he dives in again, presses his face to the other side of edward’s, harder, deeper, nuzzling in, and this time when he pulls away he’s distantly surprised he isn’t shaking.

slow and careful, edward raises his hands up. wraps his long, slender fingers around john’s wrists. he’s staring. he’s staring at john. he’s breathing too quickly. his eyes are wide, but he blinks, a few times in a row, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

all at once, the words slip out of john’s mouth: “i prayed for you.”

edward’s thumb caresses the back of john’s wrist, and his brow furrows. “i’m fine, john, we’ve talked about this–”

“no, no, i, i prayed for you,” john insists, fingers tightening over edward’s face. “i asked for – a miracle. and then the next morning you showed up. you’re – he sent you, to fix this, to help me, and i…”

like a magnet, like gravity, john is pulled in. their noses brush.

john – kisses him.

it’s a peck. again. small. simple. friends do this, he knows, he’s seen maggie kiss her friends a thousand times, and edward is his best friend, his only friend, maybe, or at least the only person who’s ever made him feel so real, so himself. lips to lips. quick in, quick out.

he pulls away, pulse roaring. there is space between them again. not much. just enough for breath.

edward holds john’s wrists. his eyes have slipped closed. he looks – pained. like a martyr in an old masterwork. his lips are open. his lips are wet. his lips –

john kisses him.

john kisses him, and doesn’t pull back.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I asked my girlfriend to get me a replacement mask?

So I and my girlfriend (both adults) are in a long-distance relationship and live on different continents but visit each other for periods of weeks to months at a time. As background context, my girlfriend is notoriously bad with money - she's owed me over $1500 for half a year now after I covered some big expenses for her when she was unable to save in time, though I've told her there's no particular deadline for giving it back and to just do it when she's able, but she's also borrowed money from her parents, she's paying off a credit card debt, and despite having a full-time job she seems completely unable to save anything substantial and is constantly buying things.

We both like a certain musician, and this shared interest in the musician is actually how we met in the first place and bonded. They've dropped some merch in the past, and it always sold out within 5-10 minutes, and they're borderline impossible to get now unless you a) are lucky enough to find another fan who's giving theirs away, which is super rare because of how hard they are to replace, or b) are willing to fork out thousands of dollars for a resold one on some dodgy site somewhere. One of the merch items I got from one of those drops was a facemask, and my girlfriend has a matching one - I can't remember if it was something I bought for her, since I did that with some merch if I got there in time, or one she bought herself. It became a huge comfort item for me - I'm both autistic and have avoidant personality disorder, so I'm almost always in some kind of mask to hide my face, and this one being connected to a special interest as well as comfortable and a perfect size (and goes with all my clothes!) made me super happy. Last time she visited, we joked around about having identical masks but that it was easy to tell which one was hers because it had makeup stains all over the inside.

As she packed to leave, I mentioned that I couldn't find my mask anywhere and asked if she'd picked mine up as well as hers by accident, so she dug through her bags and said she didn't have it, only hers. I was kinda disappointed but I figured it'd turn up sooner or later so I accepted it, and she flew back home.

A few days later, she let me know she'd unpacked and discovered she actually did have both our masks. I asked her to send it back to me, and she said she would.

Fast forward a few months, I'd asked a few more times, and she always said she would soon. Eventually, when I asked one time, she told me she'd lost it. Her mother had tidied her entire room and she no longer had any idea where either of our masks were. I was kind of frustrated so I asked why she couldn't have just sent it over when I initially asked, and she snapped back that she couldn't afford it, which doesn't make much sense to me because she definitely does have enough to send over a flat envelope, which a fabric face mask would easily fit in just like a letter.

It's been a few months since then and I've been looking and looking for any kind of replacement, but all I can find are knock-off versions that are made from different materials or don't look the same. I did see one resold for like $20 ages ago, so it definitely happens, but it's so rare.

WIBTA if I told my girlfriend I'm expecting her to replace the one she lost even if it's putting more financial pressure on her? I feel really dumb for getting so upset about a mask, but it was one of my favourite belongings and it's genuinely upsetting that it was taken and lost.

To get out ahead of any comment saying it, I have full 100% faith that she did not do it intentionally and she didn't sell it or anything like that. She wouldn't have even thought about the possibility of doing that and I absolutely believe it was an accident and she just grabbed both masks or had been holding onto mine for me and forgotten it was in a bag etc.

[pleasereadmeok]

A Goode year? ... 2024

Time for my usual review of Matthew Goode's (public) year. I usually sit down to write these thinking - hmm - we didn’t see enough of Matthew Goode this year and then get surprised by the number of Goode things that happened. But this year - OMFG there was hardly anything to write about. WTF? I know we have had droughts in the past but it's been a very lean year for Goode fans.

Oh well - we will make the most of the crumbs that we had.

January

December 2023's promotion of 'Freud's Last Session' continued into January and the praise kept on coming for Matthew's performance as CS Lewis.

Fans never doubted that Matthew would more than hold his own playing opposite Anthony Hopkins but it was still fantastic to have critic and audience reviews confirm our views.

These are some random reviews that appeared in January ....

Matthew Goode proves himself as a reliable character performer as Lewis. Squaring off against Hopkins is no easy feat, but the actor holds his own with quiet determinedness. [Punk Drunk Critics]

“It couldn’t be better cast, with both Hopkins and Goode slipping right into the skins of their characters and creating a sparkling chemistry. When the two are together the film makes for a mesmerizing study. “ [Keith and the movies com]

“Much of what we get is truly great material and the performances from Hopkins and Goode are exceptional.[Keith and the movies com]

Matthew Goode (“The Offer,” “The Imitation Game”) as C.S. Lewis, meanwhile, is as straightforward as Hopkins is slippery, and the two make a good pair. Lewis is not intimidated by Freud, nor is Goode intimidated by Hopkins. Both Goode and Lewis regard their older interlocutor with a mix of respect, affection and skepticism, as well as with a confident willingness to let a brilliant old showoff go into his dance. [San Fanscisco Chronicle]

Hopkins and Goode give masterful performances that transcend the conversation at hand.  [National Catholic Reporter]

February

In amongst the buzz around 'Freud's Last Session' we finally got confirmation of that Netflix series Matthew said he was due to start filming. Great news coz it's a goode one - a crime drama series, 'Department Q' adapted from the books written by Danish author Jussi Adler-Olsen.

📷 Netflix

The showrunner is Scott Frank who Matthew previously worked with on the 2007 film, 'The Lookout'.

Here's a summary from Deadline - Goode will play DCI Carl Morck. After a violent incident turns Morck’s life upside down, the emotionally scarred detective is charged with setting up cold case unit, Department Q, upon his return to work. At first, the disillusioned cop is happy to waste his days away, but his detective instincts are ultimately reawakened and his new department becomes a magnet for a crew of misfits and mavericks.

It got better at the very end of February coz we got the first proof of life for 2024 [we need more of those please] when Matthew attended the special screening of 'Freud's Last Session' in London. He was showing off his full 'Carl Morck' beardiness for the first time in public and we loved it.

📷 Yaffa Meskell

March

The promos for FLS kept rolling and extra screenings were added.... but then HACKETT!

Matthew joined up with Jenson Button and Hackett again to give us the Spring/Summer campaign. We got to see Matthew posing with doggies, playing croquet and looking cosy in beige (yes - BEIGE!) cardigans - so just your average trip to Seville. Although sitting on that trunk looks a bit eye watering. 😬 Ouch

📷 Tom Craig for Hackett

BUT the goode stuff kept coming coz cheeky Matthew had done a whole new movie appearance and WHO KNEW???? Well - we did ... in March.

Matthew was due to appear in the vampy movie 'Abigail' and we speculated about his role. Actually we didn't have to speculate too much coz when we found out that Abigail had a big, bad DADDY - we just knew. Vampy Dad 2 was coming soon!

April

In April we got some early sightings of Matthew doing a 'Carl' around Edinburgh including some squeally fan encounters. Loved this one from Sara Maude -

📷 Sara Maude

Sara told Edinburgh Live - "I absolutely had to get a picture with him, and I believe if you don't ask you don't get! He was an absolute delight, warm, friendly and down to earth - a true gent. To me, he is a sex god, and I was delighted to share that with him."

'Abigail' opened in April and we got to see Matthew as another vampy dad but this time - WITH FANGS!

OMG how he managed to even speak with those babies in his mouth was a mystery. But he was excellent as the supremely creepy vamp Kristof Lazar and audiences loved him too. His 'dinner' line brought the house down when I saw this 😂 Frikkin' hilarious.

Meanwhile 'Freud's Last Session' was going down well in Australia and there was lots of new praise for Matthew's portrayal of CS Lewis.

May

Oh, hello - here he is again in May. We know that Matthew is a totally geeky dad but - FISHING???

📷 James Murray

All in a good cause coz Matthew joined up with James Murray, Burn Gorman and Dominic West to catch some fishies (and put them back I hope) to promote the 'Off the table' campaign against farmed salmon.

📷 James Murray, Burn Gorman and 'Off the Table'

June

'Freud's Last Session' got its cinema release in the UK (at bloody last!) so I got to see Matthew on the big screen for the second time this year. Woohoo!

July

Nothing. Seriously, I GOT NOTHING!

August

There was a tiny update on 'Tally Ho' AKA 'Spiked' [Sort the name out guys - what's it gonna be?]

Kapers Animation gave us a few more pics of the amnesiac rabbit Walter - who will be our next crush - coz he's played by Matthew. So that's a given.

📷 Kapers Animation

Later in August 'A Discovery of Witches' popped up on Netflix in the US - which was great for the 3 people in the US who hadn't seen it yet. Seriously - so many more people discovering the joy of vampy Matthew is always GOODE news.

📷 Sky

September

Yep - you guessed it. Nothing.

October

To be fair I wasn't fully conscious for most of October so I probably missed stuff. None of the usual October golf appearances - so sad for him coz he bloody loves hitting a tiny ball with a stick. But nothing doing.

I know Matthew went on holiday with the family but that he and Sophie still found time to do something beyond kind for a very grateful fan. ☺️

November

Another proof of life at last thanks to the fabulous David Max Freedman - he knows we love BTS of Matthew and he delivered this of Goodey doing his ADR for 'Tally Ho'/'Spiked' -

📷 David Max Freedman

December

A truly bleak month with nothing. Not one scrap of news except that Department Q doesn't seem to be in Q1 for Netflix so we have to wait ...

But according to the Kapers website it looks like 'Tally Ho'/ 'Spiked' will be with us in Q1 next year

So bring it on Walt!

YEEEES!

Goode things coming... Spiked/Tally Ho, Department Q and what else? Last year Matthew was in 'talks' to possibly revisit the character of Robert Evans for something. The Wine Show season 4? Another movie or 3? Who knows? Whatever it is - it will be GOODE!

[mondscheinprinzessin]

ThankYouBlindChannel Advent Calender Day 21

Here I am again, with part 2 of this story. Two more perspectives of the evening for you to read. I hope you guys are having a good weekend😊

Tommi was an easy man.

His outfit had been laid out already yesterday, his dinner cooked earlier so he had enough of a buffer for some chill-out time on the couch to search for some social energy before he had to go, Santeri’s present was neatly wrapped in paper, the crate of beer he brought along every year had been bought a week ago, and there was nothing else that could come between him and his perfectly planned out evening.

If he was a man of long thinking he would reach the conclusion that this kinda life was a little too boring for someone who had toured for weeks on end, but Tommi was focused on the here and now. Too busy with his every-day life to spend too many thoughts on what was bugging him when he eventually rested somewhere.

The day had even been brought up with his boss as soon as Tommi had known the date of the party, so he could get the day off. He didn’t mind working during the holidays, letting co-workers go home to their families or friends while he stayed on and cared for the patients.

But this was the one day he had always kept free on his schedule. For him and his closest friends, family, and while things have changed drastically, he was not about to let this tradition drop.

He hadn’t thought about the party too much apart from the logistical side, whatever happens will happen, who was he to worry about any possibilities. He rather imagined Joel or Niko tearing their hair out over all of that stuff. But that line of thinking was quickly smothered.

He had played the bear and had withdrawn himself up north, back to his roots, had gone back to his job, to old friends, closer to family, and stopped himself whenever questions arose that didn’t bring any answers with them.

There had only been one time where doubts couldn’t be hold off. During the summer when Aleksi’s production company had contacted him, informing him of an ill drummer and asking him to be a fill-on for the recording. Tommi had listened to all the demos and pre-recordings, and he had clearly heard Aleksi throughout all of it, and he couldn’t not wonder why the hell Aleksi hadn’t written him himself.

Until then Tommi hadn’t thought any of the others were intently avoiding him, but right then he was asking himself exactly that. Was there communication between them again, but Tommi was left out?

His phone didn’t record any incoming calls or texts from either of them. Not until today.

Tommi was contemplating if he should change and start his car to go or give himself another five minutes on his comfortable couch. A call on his phone made the decision for him, especially when he saw the ID.

Olli. Well, not that the party would have been boring, but Tommi suddenly felt excited and ready.

----------

Just a few more minutes, Olli was begging to anything that could help him extend his deadline.

Sure, it was his own fault that he was sitting here on his free day, an hour before he had to go get ready. If he had used the last couple days for the project, he wouldn’t be in this predicament but man, thinking ahead had never been his speciality.

New Years Eve was so close and if he didn’t finish the project before that, he already saw himself at home at midnight while everyone was celebrating, and he was all alone working.

What a shitty turn of things he again had to acknowledge, even if he would rather not. He was well aware of how boring his life had turned out.

He wasn’t completely void of artistical freedom. He had his job where he could use his design skills acquired while he took over that specific field for the band, and he still had his instruments. But those were mainly waiting for him, hanging on the wall while Olli was busy with something else.

Sighing Olli saved his progression and jumped up when he saw the time. Fuck, he was being late, didn’t he start a timer to not have this problem? Things had been easier (and on time) when he was sharing his space with someone with a working alarm on their phone and the finesse to help his tired and lost ass.

Now that he was on his own Olli had to deal with complication that never had been a problem while he was around the other guys. He couldn’t think of anything that hadn’t changed.

Olli was pulling a dark dress shirt out of his wardrobe when he stupidly realized he had fucked up. Running to the nearest window to look out, he groaned.

Of course. He had left his car at his cousin’s house after admitting he had much more to drink than was safe to drive with. And he still hadn’t picked his car up. Now it was snowing heavily and walking there definitely wasn’t a possibility.

What to do, what to do?

Yes! Who had always picked his shit up and supported him whenever Olli just asked? No words, no complaining, just a helping hand whenever it was needed.

Quickly dialling the number, Olli waited with bated breath if he would pick up. Tommi had never ignored him, no matter the time, but he had to confess time might have changed things.

But Olli was ready to turn back time to never get to a point where he had to worry about a best friend cutting off the line, and he was ready to tell them too. Time to get to this party.

[blitzyn]

Thoughts on modern Jock!Childe ? This au lives in my head rent free and iusudgdbjchdhdjchcbcksg

HELP I WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS I KINDA FORGOT THAT IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE JOCK CHILDE. i hope this is ok though. if it's not u can request something else/the same thing and ill try my best to come up with something more related to what u want. also!! i wasn't sure if you wanted nsfw or not so i just kept it sfw

gn!reader

> I can see him playing American football or hockey, truthfully. He enjoys the thrill of dangerous body-to-body contact and fast paced gameplay.

> He, surprisingly, knows how to play various other sports, too. He may not be the best, but he is well informed on the rules and the general idea of how to play. Just give him about 10 minutes to get the hang of it, and it'll be like he was born for that sport.

> He devotes a lot of time on his primary sport, but always makes sure he does his school assignments. Alongside with his desire to be the best in his sport, he also strives to be phenomenal academically, even if the work he turns in isn't the very best sometimes.

> Now! Childe isn't one to focus on romantic relationships very often. He doesn't believe he has a need for one. He's got enough attention in his school as it is. He's confident he could find someone in record time with the sheer amount of fans he has, but he also doesn't want to waste his time on someone if they don't truthfully like him and only view him as a trophy to flaunt.

> But that's also where you come in! It took him a while to get to properly know you, much to his delight. Don't get him wrong, he enjoys meeting new people and the small talk it brings, but he prefers the challenge of figuring out someone's quirks and habits before they tell him.

> You had also treated him like he wasn't a star student-athlete, and more like a friend. Like his status in school didn't matter. Although that was later into your friendship; you had spoken to him rather coldly at first.

> He was interested in how you so easily ignored the envious glares of particularly obsessive supporters when the two of you were chosen to be partners during a project one time. In previous experiences, some of his partners took it upon themselves to do most – if not all – of the work, leaving Childe with the sole job to present in front of the class. You did no such thing. You made sure to cut the workload in half between the two of you and kept it upon yourself to remind him of the upcoming deadline and to produce good work.

> He appreciated how you treated him like an equal, even if it was a bit harsh.

> And then came the dreaded time when a specific project required one of you to head to the other's house in order to properly complete it. You knew he had quite a number of admirers, but you'd never realized some of them would go so far as to begin threatening you (most of which you knew were empty), or even resort to going physical in order to instill fear.

> Of course, you never took them seriously. After all, they were diehard fans that would forget about Childe as soon as school was over. Although it did annoy you how they disrupted your routine for the sake of their own satisfaction.

> One fateful day, as you were making your way towards Childe's house after you had to go back to yours to grab something, two obsessive admirers managed to spot you. At first, they were easy to ignore, but they had very quickly resorted to shoving you to the floor when you refused to give them the reaction they wanted.

> Luckily, you weren't too far from Childe's house, and he managed to spot you from one of his windows. You'd never forget the looks on their faces when they saw him walk up with a cold, unamused, and almost angry glint in his eyes.

> After they had left, he insisted on buying you something in return for having to deal with those types of people because of him. He really was sorry!

> You begrudgingly accepted his offer, and went on a 'date' with him.

> It took quite a while of you denying your feelings for him for you to finally admit that you did, in fact, have a crush on him. Although it wasn't during a desired moment (it was while you were playing a game of truth or dare), it felt relieving to reveal what you had felt for so long. You were very glad to know that he felt the same.

Now, more about your relationship!

> You were very surprised to hear that Childe had been talking about you to his family. Even though it was your first time meeting them, it seemed as if you were an old friend to them.

> Loves to give gifts. You have no idea how he makes so much money to buy you things you've always wanted or even things you lingered your gaze on for more than five seconds. It always makes you feel a little bad since you don't give him anything very often, but he reassures you that all he needs is your smile. And a kiss.

> Very affectionate, too! There is not one moment where he doesn't at least have a hand on your body. It's even worse – or better, depending on how you see it – in private. Hugs you all the time. He does understand if you're more reluctant with physical touch, though. He asks for permission every time he wants to hold you unless you specifically tell him you're okay with it.

> Has a death grip when he's asleep. Once you're in his arms, you're stuck there the entire night. It'll take either you being stronger than him or some miracle to tug yourself out of his hold. It's kind of become a problem that you had to learn to accept.

> Loves kisses. He plants them everywhere - your forehead, cheeks, lips, neck, arm, anywhere where there's skin showing. It's mandatory to kiss each other before one of you leave the house. Even if you're only leaving to get the mail.

> I see him as more of a competitive arguer. A lot of the time, you two only argue about small things like where the TV remote goes or who's making dinner that night. But in the infrequent instances where you are genuinely arguing, he can't help but go on and on until he gets the last word.

> If you buy him a piece of jewelery, he always makes sure to kiss it after he takes it off in the locker room before a game. It's his good luck charm!

> Enjoys showing you off, but tones it down if you feel uncomfortable about it.

> He finds it hilarious when you try to squirm away from him after a victorious game. You whine and shout about how sweaty he is, but you're more than happy to give him his kiss. Most of the time.

> Occasionally waves to you when he gets the chance during his games. He loves seeing the smile it brings to your face when he does so.

Super sorry it's short, I ran out of ideas lol

[byoldervine]

A Nomad’s Wanderlust

Trudging through the forest was a challenge for certain, but not one the charcoal-haired woman couldn’t handle. The foliage crunched under the soles of her hiking boots as her sharp grey eyes scanned the horizon for any signs of life beyond the trees and greenery

In her deathly pale hands, a hunting knife was slicing at a stick, peeling off thin slivers of bark like prepping a carrot for a stew. A nervous habit of hers, whittling; she liked to keep her hands busy, and extra wood always had its uses. Back home she’d use the slithers as kindling in the hearth. A much more productive use of her time, but one she’d have to do without for… well, she didn’t plan on going back any time soon, so the question was left hanging in the air

How long had it been now? Two years since she left? Three? It all seemed to blur together in a haze of seasons and settlements. She’d been many places in this time; Paracosm was only so big in truth, after all, and she was almost convinced that time worked in mysterious ways here. Of course, there was no use in a mortal questioning the will of a god, so she never bothered to dwell on such things

The sun was setting now; she could see the streaks of red and orange on the horizon, like the sky itself had been set aflame, set to darken into an ash black blanket over the realm once it had burnt out. While she normally didn’t shy away from ashes, she didn’t fancy the cold of night, and wondered if she might find shelter before that inevitable deadline forced her to set up a meagre camp once again

But luck was on her side that evening, and just as streaks of twilight began to snuff out the blazing skies, a dirt path lead her way to a distant silhouette of buildings beyond the trees. Following it guided her towards farmland, and beyond that, when the dirt underfoot turned to cobble, a sign proudly displayed;

WELCOME TO WAROSA

Warosa? She hadn’t realised she’d ventured so far as to enter Taverus. Still, it was a town, and towns meant inns. She’d saved up some money since the last time she’d found a village to perform odd jobs in; only a few coins, but she thought she’d earned herself a bed and a hot meal by now. Perhaps in the morning she could return to those farms and seek out work to make up the difference. She’d never fancied herself a labourer, but she was strong and precise in ways it seemed various others were not, and it made earning a day’s fair wages easy enough. Anyone doubtful a woman could manage such heavy lifting had to look only at her considerable height and the muscles visible on her exposed arms to be reassured that she would manage the task just fine

It didn’t take long to stumble upon an inn, likely set up near the town’s entrance with the intention of luring in passing travellers. It certainly worked on her, and she changed course to the front door, pushing it open to the tune of the tinny brass bell overhead. Yes, a night of sleep would do her good, then a trip to the farm to look for work. It would be wasteful not to take advantage of the opportunity to replenish her cofferage, after all

And as night turned to day, that’s just what she did; with a rested body and a full belly, she was put to work hauling haybales and feed barrels and pails of milk. Anything heavy quickly became her duty in assisting the gently aging farmer, just as she’d anticipated. What was a trying struggle to the man was an easy enough load for her to carry on her broad shoulders, an arm securing it in place

In addition to the promised coin, the farmer also provided her a meal, and she was in no mind nor position to turn it down. It was a simple affair, but a hearty one; a hot stew made from the farm’s produce

“It’s good to not be wasteful,” the farmer had said as he ladled out their servings. She was inclined to agree, and savoured each mouthful, letting the flavours simmer on her tongue

“It’s nice to have someone else to cook for. It hasn’t quite been the same on my own.”

“There will always be others,” she assured, taking care with her words. She knew she wasn’t exactly the most empathetic woman in the world, but that didn’t make trying any less important

“I know, and you’re welcome back any time, dear,” the farmer smiled, wiping a few droplets of stew from his lightly greying beard. “There’ll always be work and a natter here for a strong, hard-working girl like you.”

He then leaned forward, looking up at the taller woman with curiosity. “But what are you in town for, anyhow?”

“Only travelling,” she answered, and it was the truth. She could hardly lie, after all. He nodded along, intrigued

“Ah, of course; young thing like you would want to see the world. Anywhere you plan to go next, or just seeing were the road takes you?”

“I haven’t any plans. Perhaps I might roam the kingdom more.”

“A good idea,” he hummed, taking another mouthful of stew before he responded again. “Make sure you don’t miss Kettringham, if you want to go everywhere.”

Kettringham? She’d heard of that village; isolated within the forests surrounding Taverus as if cut off from the rest of the kingdom. It was one of the few places she’d never been

As if noticing her consideration, the farmer chuckled. “I’ve put the idea in your head now, haven’t I? I’ve been down that way, once or twice; lovely little place. Mostly warlocks and mages and such down that way. A few elementals, a few fae. Worth a look, if you fancy it.”

She nodded at that, her mind made up. “Then I suppose I shall head south. Gratitude.”

“Not a problem, Miss Kennedy.”

[plasticfangtastic]

Can we Be Lonely Together? Ch.9

A Homelander X Staker! Reader fanfic

this is also a Supe! reader fic, GN neutral but male leaning in all honesty. Prev. chapters in the #my fic tag and #can we be lonely together? tag on me blog. this is a slow burn fic

Author's Note: might not be able to post the next ch. 'til next wk due to work and a dire need to work in my main WIP (so behind my writing goals for this project) might log on tumblr on a computer for once to just put a link of the prev. eps for the final chapter.

R18+ slow burn, smut, urolognia mention, Rape mention, gore, cannibalism, child abuse, child death, long chapter.

Chapter 9

We don't forget

Whether it was your first, first in a long time or last time– the way you held a cigarette in your hand appeared fitting, there was an air of misplaced elegance to your mannerisms… in the way your smoke drew cryptic symbols in the air. 

Watching your hand was a lot more hypnotic than Homelander anticipated, it was an easy distraction from that thousand yard stare in your eyes. 

He had seen that look once before.

He could smell that memory vividly, it had perturbed him the most– even if it shamed him to admit. The name and appearance had faded but he still remembered the silence, and those eyes. Even as he ripped hands clean off the wrist, there was no whine, no cry-- just a huff. As if whatever being that once lived inside this person had already departed long before Homelander had decided to entertain himself for the evening with these unlucky sods who decided to rob a store that autumn now leaving an empty husk. Homelander astounded as he peeled him clean, removing the jaw after breaking it in a dozen pieces, but the man simply failed to respond, gargling, and gasping as his lungs flooded, dying seconds after.

Panting, finding the foreign blood bitter on his tongue.

His eyes watched Homelander much like yours did now, your mouth ajar awaiting to put the lit cigarette in your lips once more.

You had died a long time ago… way before you ever met. 

Homelander was simply a new bullet in a once empty gun.

You had become a walking corpse the moment he brought you inside his penthouse, you just kept imitating the living, he wondered if he would be in this place watching your hand just to avoid your creepy emptiness had he listened and kept his hands to himself, if he had let you choke on your blood that night instead of pursuing merriment. 

In all certainty he was unsure as to why he allowed you to continue your “disposing”, he even got inside your vehicle as you drove to this dilapidated warehouse space that once inside hosted a pop-up restaurant, finding your vehicle so cramped but no amount of sass and complaining got your attention.

He should’ve stayed inside the car letting this take place somewhere else but Homelander followed after you– not wanting you to run away (not that you could ever get further enough) but it was the sentiment that would offend.

 Dolores had jumped and picked a knife instinctively at the sight of him but the mortal deity simply glared and bore his fangs, making the cannibal turn meek, she stared at her knife that might as well have been made of glass– completely useless against Homelander. She shook her head and dropped it.  

As soon as you deliver the goods and sat on the silver counter top to watch her work it was back to business, unlike you Dolores did threw poorly concealed worried glances at his direction, her heart rate severely elevated and her bladder building pressure down her nether regions but she continued to work, fearing their guest but ultimately committed to meeting her deadline.

At the sight of you, she offered an untouched box of cigarettes plus a glass of milk to their executioner– simply mentioning that his breath had a rich aroma of 2% milk, in fact she could smell it simmering in his stomach juices from when he had pour more milk on his tea and in his digestive track.  

He sat on the bench beside you crossing his ankles awkwardly holding his cape on one hand, watching you drift away, watching as the chef prepped, covering what once had been his teammate in softened butter for dry-aging, you pointing at things and analyzing her techniques, re-assuring her that the menu was perfect, as she prepared sauces.

He was surprised when the spoon came to his face, a rich yuzu heavy reduction, he could feel the tang on the back of his throat– that had managed to spark some color in your eyes, your skin had become duller by the minute, but as his lips wrapped around the spoon he was glad to see some color on your chest, so he played along there was no need to argue with nutters.

In all truth the magic had faded, you had once been so beautiful but now he no longer recognized you, without the carefully constructed facade and manufactured responses, this was the real you… the real you was ugly. The way your eyes sank and your lips didn’t bother to take shape as you slurred your words depressed Homelander, he looked back at the kitchen. This was after all a funeral service for a lover… it had cost him dearly, something that would make him lose sleep one lonely night in the future, perhaps. As he watched you become pure misery, he had nothing nice to say about his own… Homelander was anguish and loneliness incarnate… pitiable if you dare, on the other side there was your misery and sequestration… but he couldn’t feel genuine empathy… none that he could believe.

Now he understood the morbid reasoning behind your attraction, you saw somebody who could understand what it was like to be born alone, that's why you seeked him so desperately, why you had lied to the point you’ve become a parody of what Homelander had always seeked.

“How did you end up like this? You know why I’m like this… you saw the videos.”

You bounce awake to the sound of his calm cadance, this was the tone he used with the press so often, it was upsetting knowing it was used against you.

Snuff. 

All you could compare those videos was snuff, at any corner you expected him to be raped just to put the cherry on this yucky sundae. Certainly in all your years of life you had encountered horrific memories, private horrors, all manner of depravities and awful thoughts from the ones holding the knife and their human pin-cushion, all manner of creative abuse had crossed your mind unwillingly.

But they were strangers, not the man who put his gloved hand on your thigh.

A man’s voice jabbering on a shitty mic.

A little boy no much older than six.

A pool of boiling water.

Emerging covered in blisters and blind but neither disfigured nor dead, he would come to heal fully after a couple weeks.

Another man’s voice on a shitty mic.

Little boy is now eleven.

Welded restraints holding him placed on a thick concrete slab, on the other end an unmanned vehicle holding two crash test dummies. 

Same little boy covered in rich purples and three busted cars getting dragged off screen, each one increasing in size-- a rubble of metallic matryoshkas.

Little boy cried until his voice had all but gone leaving a pained squeak.

By all accounts it was a miracle this little boy had grown relatively well adjusted, the other boy took it like a champ when John no longer could, that hateful glare that fit so well below his brow took the 4x4 head on.

Your least favorite was the first big test… the lung test. Just how long could a four year old hold his breath underwater?

“I was six when my powers manifested. I learned my school principal had a weird hobby of putting cameras on the little girls restroom– but ‘cuz I was a kid screaming about voices in my head nobody cared, thinking I had schizophrenia until my parents remembered they’ve given me Compound V. None believed me… until I showed them, and then they got mad at me because he was a good man– a church going man! He worked in charities, parents and kids alike loved him– it had to belong to somebody else!! So his daughter smashed my head with a stapler and called me a liar.”

You smiled at him with a smile that only existed beneath your nose.

“My parents abandoned me for three weeks just to get a break, the cool powers that would make them thousands, reflected back at them and spat venom… no Vought trainer could figure out why I couldn’t control it. I lost like 10 kilos in those three weeks ‘cuz I was nine and didn’t know how to cook. If I didn’t peek into my neighbors mind I wouldn’t have figured out how to use a can opener– mind you they locked me in the basement with just some cans, water and a bucket. I swear I can still smell my fermented shit.”

He offered the sauce spoon at you, watching you fail to register the labor behind the homemade spicy sauce.

“My foster parents… well… I ran away for a reason. Then I met… Kent, he told me after he freed me from my confines “Either cry or learn to be apathetic to the world” So I learned to stop caring… learned to know that nobody in the world would get what it was like to understand God”

Homelander raised his brow retreating the spoon away from you.

“He must be overwhelmed… to hear everyone's prayers, never knowing silence since he made us… I would stay away from us too if I could” 

“You think you’re God?”

You scuffed taking a long puff.

“No? But I guess I understand him.”

A deity, he was perfection incarnate but as he stood staring down on earth holding his breath while strolling on the moon watching the bleached cloth that once copied the flag on his cape, the world had looked so beautiful– his eyes stung thinking of crying without permission, scratching a thin layer of frost off his chin as he rubbed his eyes just to stop himself, to Homelander God stayed silent so he could watch his creation in awe. The people made it ugly, but he had to admit it was beautiful, as he got closer the sounds returned but you couldn’t escape into space for some peace and quiet, only learning to silence it all to sleep without ripping your hair from exhaustion.

If Homelander had your powers he would be God… there would’ve never been a doubt in the heart of this man-made lab tulpa.

“Not with your paranoia”

“Learn to mind your business, darlin’” He pointed at you, almost growling.

You scuffed, a muted chuckle from between your teeth, sliding out the counter burning your cigarette on your thigh, not flinching as it burned.

He watched you march outside knowing he could catch up to you in a few seconds.

“When you kill Y/N would you let me cook her? Y/N said that I could use them to make our favorite dishes… it would mean a lot to us if you enjoyed the meal.”

Dolores spoke as she moved to an elephant– hanging by a hook was a carcass its feet bound and pierced by garish chrome, split in halves, emptied of organs and its skin flamed to remove unwanted hairs, head and genitalia had long been removed, no much resembled humanity beside its general shape, she carved using a deboning knife to remove one of the arms swiftly off its socket, the skin squelched letting go with a sticky sound– he pictured you like that. 

He had hanged you, piercing your talons with a hook and gutting you clean, watching as your face hid behind the spilling mass of your lower intestines.

He hurled into his mouth.

“You’re sick” red flared in his eyes– "I'll kill you too, once you’re done gentrifying cannibalism with the rest of the Sawyer family!”

“One last service it is.”

He took off trying to hide the weird embarrassment from his reference, he had no energy for quips or sardonic wit.

He found you leaning against a metal pillar, you didn’t turn just focusing in the mind of a passerby, and the homeless living beneath in the pipes 

“Together we could’ve been God made whole.”

His hands unusually wrapped around your hips, his gloves falling around your ankles resting his cheek against yours.

You turned your head slightly taking a deep whiff of his cologne-- he could smash your spine perfectly clean in this position.

“I complimented you?”

“Your powers didn’t upset me. I would be creeped out at first… weary for a long time but eventually… it would be nothing but another part of you… like the color of your eyes… proof that you belonged to the better group.”

His jaw clenched caught in the what if’s, running after a picture of a stranger than wasn’t either of them, the first time he’d read “Love in the time of cholera” he hadn’t understood the lead, but as he grew older, the more that lover one could long for fifty years became less of a stupid fixation for somebody to have but something relatable. Those women had been Madelyn and Maeve, but then you came.

A hope.

Hope that he didn’t need to long for anymore, here it was… it was you who had longed for him all this time before you ever saw him, he told himself that as he remembered the way you cuddled him in your sleep, your grip squeezing him with all your strength– you had been a warm blanket during winter, Homelander rested to the sound of your breathing both had held each other so desperately, the way your eyes stared at him as he bit half moons into your skin and all he received was caresses and kisses as if he was the one hurt.

Turning around to rest your head on his shoulders, poking your cheek against the golden eagles, you spoke.

The sound of a fish tank filter inundated his apartment. Most of the house is dark, unnevely illuminated by different sized fish tanks. We stared at each other from opposite sides of his kitchen, he had a nervous look in his eyes, all of his bravado had washed away as he gulped, he looked pale and ready to hurl, he was ready to piss and shit himself as one of his many amateur films played on my phone.

“You help me, or that ends up on the front page of every fucking porn site you can imagine. I would spam the fuck out of it on twitter… heck I’ll make it look like you posted it too, Kevin.” 

He looked at me with very big eyes and stuttering lips.

“I need you to go to the archives and get me photos of these boxes… open them and take photos of the contents too” I slid him a piece of paper– you got ‘til the morning to get these files, or I’ll destroy you.”

“I know I put a lot of pressure to you at work but we can work this out—

His mind was incoherent, at this level of nerves there really was no point in unscrambling his thoughts, but I was impressed nonetheless by his capacity to try to negotiate with this sinking ship.

“Listen, I like my job… I’m not doing this because I hate you– I’m doing this because I have the most shit on you, and you’re a member of The Seven meaning you have access to areas of the building I don’t. Nobody will think there’s anything weird if the head of Crime Analytics goes into the archives, either. I’m just threatening you ‘cuz you do overwork me, you owe me overtime and you can finally be useful at your job. So after this is done, I’ll delete all copies of the video and make sure my associates do so as well… it's not like you can kill me.”

He looked at the slip.

“What is it?”

He knew very well that you and I had something going on based on your past lil’ requests, Homelander. He was smart enough to know not to touch or it would be his head on a spike.

“This is in the lab's archive! They might think– he  continued asking.

“Not my problem. Just don’t let Homelander get a whiff of this… or he’ll kill you too. Fuck he might flatten all of New York afterwards”

That got his attention real bad, his nerves scrambling his mind further; his mind might as well have been eggs in a microwave .

“Wait, what does Homelander have to do with this!?”

“The less you know the safer you are.”

He believed me, when it came to you he wouldn’t doubt it was dangerous for his health.

“How do I know you’ll delete the video… not going to ask how you got it… you hacked my phone, no?”

“Make sure to change your password on a regular basis.”

We didn’t make any eye contact as I left, I heard him scrunch up the piece of paper and then scream and trash his kitchen after I closed the door. 

I left, you’ve returned to the tower suspecting nothing. You noted there was something keeping me quiet, and blamed it on well… dinner. 

You did your best to get me talking that night, but I barely gave you attention, my mind and heart heavy, you thinking it was ‘cuz somehow I’ve figured out you been getting your dick wet with Firecracker pussy, which was true but unrelated at the time– while you been bumping uglies with your new fangirl did peeved me, I wasn’t concerned. She was just another looney looking for good PR and cheap ways for advancing her career, she was pretty, energetic, had a great personality and great tits so obviously the heads at Vought and the public would think you two would look cute… compared to me… but she wouldn’t handle you. Sure right now you were sweet, but you had vices and soon she would’ve stopped being enthusiastic about your fetishes… I knew for a fact she would never tolerate your piss kink… that unexplained excitement that degrading without violence gifted you, I knew she wouldn’t return your wet play with frothing quivering delight– would you clean her afterwards, either? As you filled her asshole and forced her to hold it inside while you wanked and glazed her hole.

I knew she would not take kindly to your paintings sessions either, her reaction would be insincere she had no capacity to smile for you when you’re pinching so hard it almost tears the skin just stopping short of drawing blood looking back to make sure she wouldn’t hate you, she wouldn’t pull your hair and demand your kisses, would she? Would she’ve asked you to continue with your olive clouds?

 Maybe Firecracker would enjoy your oral fixations ‘cuz who doesn’t enjoy orgasming seven to ten times in an hour as you slurped on her juices greedily as if it was god’s own ambrosia, who wouldn't like feeling their brain shut down from ecstasy so good it tote the line into agony, who wouldn’t love kissing until jaws grew sore, would she find herself coveting your spit? or your loving demands to have her suck at your tongue? 

But she wouldn’t last, it would never be love… for I knew you.

So eventually it would end.

And you wouldn’t want it to end.

For her skin wasn’t made of tissue paper.

She wasn’t lying to you about being a super. I was. So I deserved it, for lying… apparently.

Firecracker would run in her mind but you put your chains on her.

I wasn’t all that narcissistic to think I was that special to you… but it stung… it stung regardless.

But I am patient if anything, and unlike her I was here making you dinner and helping your son with his Homework, I was here under the blankets watching you read while I was on my phone reading your reviews– you could be so witty, you had over 2 thousand followers and so many reviews to keep me occupied.

That next day I met with Kevin, the office was empty and my excuse was that I had work piled up.

“What did you ask me to get you!?”

It caught my surprise to see a small jar placed on my desk, it was labeled carefully with a bunch of numbers, and inside its cylinder was the remnants of a hand.

I picked it up, opening my laptop to match the numbers to my files.

“That’s a kid's hand!”

“I can see that… that’s the hand of a three year old Jane Doe. Look Deep… if you had any shred of human decency left in you, I could trust you with that information but you're a coward. Not to mention that I don’t want to let Homelander kill you, not because I care but I feel like I should be the one to kill you… now give me the rest okay! And pay me my fucking overtime.”

He slid me a go pro and a phone, I showed him the file being deleted and me severing the backdoor connection I had with his phone.

“I might need you to go back and get me some of those documents.”

“You said–

“What? Do you think I only had one video of your romantic escapades?”

He had nothing to say, just a squeaky fist in return.

“I’m going to be in trouble aren’t I? Regardless of what you said I will get it up my ass at the end.”

“If I was you I would memorize the evacuation plan for the Tower, and avoid leaving via helicopter. If it's any consolation it would be me who dies first altho… do you think of yourself as a hero? Like do you ever feel like doing the right thing for once in your life?”

I don't know what possessed me but I had a lightbulb moment.

“I am a superhero.”

He was genuinely insulted.

“Then mister superhero… there's something else you can help me with…”

I made sure to have a perfect excuse, you were in the honeymoon stage of your affair so it wasn’t too difficult for you to ignore the red flags. If anything I gave you a free pass for the day.

The Deep was surprisingly a good driver, he also had the manners to stay quiet and simply follow the map without small talk, any attempt to do so barely got a response from me and at least the music helped with the awkward tension, at this point I figured soon I couldn't bullshit much further.

So yes… I told him before I told you.

“This is ‘Sage Grove Centre’…? Why are we in a loony bin? What does that have to do with the dead bodies!?”

He was hungry for information, so I spilled the beans… It felt good letting it out.

“... about fifteen years ago… Homelander surprised everybody by proving that he wasn’t completely infertile… and ever since Vought has kept an eye on all of his laids… they had wanted to recreate him for years as you know Homelander is… a loose cannon. So their attention turned to his offspring, and out of the eight kids he has made only one of them is alive… Ryan Butcher. That hand belonged to Eun-Ji K. who a month after her birth went missing alongside her mother, Eun-Ji was a natural born supe… but unlike her dad, she didn’t have completely impenetrable skin… Do you want me to spare you the details of how she lost that hand?”

He thought of the box, of the small sample vials and jars, of the gruesome photos of small corpses, he had puked almost immediately.

“Then there was Simon P. who survived testing ‘til the age of three… Aaliyah T. who survived ‘til ten. Robert and Roberta C. who survive to the ages of four and three  respectively and Miguel S. who survived ‘til the age of five. Miguel was alive two years ago… they kept some of them in similar sound stages… his eldest weren’t so fortunate, but unlike Ryan’s mother… The other moms were more than happy to begin testing the moment their kids showed signs of having powers or weren't around to complain, so they did the same experiments.”

I looked at him, placing my hand on his shoulder.

“Now as I dug around to find more about his dead family and his history… I noticed something interesting… Homelander has health insurance– makes sense you have to have mandatory health insurance for certain jobs… so it didn’t bother me, until I read into his policies and I wondered: Why does a man with a perfect 20/20 vision pay for extras such as optical? not to mention dental… he does get his teeth whiten often but… when did he ever get a wisdom tooth removed?”

Kevin’s eyebrows touched clearly intrigued.

“So I keep digging… and a lot of those glasses went to a patient in this facility… a fifty-four year old Jane Doe… she had been taken into Sage Grove thirty-nine years ago with a diagnosis of PTSD, and severe panic disorder. They noted the patient had suffered past psychotic episodes where they had harmed themselves and others for she had no tongue… They suspected she was a drug addict which would explain her wounds and disorders, but more suspiciously  somebody had paid for her to stay there… and still do… for the last twenty-one years Homelander has been unaware he’s been paying for this Jane Done. I suspect that this Jane Doe is Ms. Gillman… his mother.”

I looked at my phone showing The Deep a picture of your mother, it was still grainy but there it was a young girl barely into puberty that once had been a prospective gymnast from a  shitty family.

“I’m so fucking dead.” he said.

Homelander unwrapped his arm, his gaze staring at nothing spitting short lived puff, gasping just to shake off the matching twist in his stomach and throat.

The city had become so lively, it was electrifying, an abuse of all his senses, turning once more to face you, a red glow coming from half-shut eyes as he shook them off fighting the urge to finish you once and for all, your face should had been nothing but heated mince on the pavements the moment you handed Firecracker to your accomplice.

Comfort.

He yearned for comfort so your hands made sure to hold him even if he tried to push you.

The city was so lively, it drowned him.

Your love was unwanted but he couldn't shake you off, the world had ceased to make sense.

One could only compartmentalize so much. 

“Can you erase my memories?” He asked softly, his voice not a decibel over a murmur– all of it…?”

Homelander cupped your cheek, his mouth humored a smile but it was forced, desperate to provide the illusion that he wasn’t crumbling inside, He chuffed trembling as you both looked at each other, your hand held his straight.

“I don’t want to know anymore… I don’t want to know… I want to pretend the last three days have been a bad dream. We can stay the way we always were. Sure I’ll be confused about Firecracker– but who cares!? There’s a hundred other broads that can take her spot…” 

He brushed your hair off your face while his felt apart around his temples, his whole body shuddering.

“It could kill me and not work… but it could hurt you… hurt you a lot.”

“Try… I… I want everything to be the same as it was three days ago… my love… I can’t.”

“Mi sol.”

[bates--boy]

Peter was going to have to drag himself out of this slump soon.

Boxes had been sitting for weeks in whatever empty corner Peter could shove them in, collecting dust and being gnawed and clawed on by Jack and Rosé. They held the new samples for fabrics and cuts for next season's clothing line, ones that he was going to have to evaluate and give feedback on soon because his Crooked Crowns partners can't keep postponing the launch show; they were either going to move on without him (which sucked even if he was still getting paid) or cancel the show altogether.

He needed to reply to at least one, just one, of the emails that flooded his inbox, to grab at whatever business deal or artist collaboration his agents laid at his feet (but he was sure that many of those doors were closed by now.) He needed to return some phone calls, especially ones from Mike so he wouldn't ride Peter's ass for his many absences. He needed to shit, it was too much!

Peter laid his phone on his chest and pressed his hands into his face, He couldn't do this, this fucking spiraling. He hated how that one day, those damn letters that solidified the torment, cracked him, made it so easy for all of his other ghosts to slip in and make his days dark. The faces won't go away; even now, Peter saw them as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Shit was sucking him hollow, leaving him with nothing to put into his music; he felt like a puppet onstage at the very few live shows he hadn't cancelled, empty and stiff and tired; the drafts of his new novel and short stories sat untouched, and his literary agent has since long stopped breathing down his neck about those goddamn deadlines Peter didn't give a shit about.

But worst of all, he missed--

The prodding came sudden, shocking him frozen. But he softened immediately and opened himself up. He could shake from the sweetness and innocence as Sadaf slipped into Peter's mind, her lovely face brightest and most real among those of Lady Celeste, the boy soldier, and Marion. Sadaf was supposed to be napping, judging by the soothing Latvian hymnal music playing somewhere in her room, but here she was, filling Peter's head with things she doesn't know the words for.

Peter's gentle hands. Warm lavender bubble baths. The sweet lilt of Peter's singing voice as they swayed in her favorite rocking chair.

I miss you.

Keeping his eyes closed, Peter lowered his hands and folded his arms over his stomach, taking a shaky breath. He smiled and fed Sadaf

Gurgling coos and toothless smiles. The honeyed scent of milk and the perfume of jasmine soap from being so close to Ashira. Dark, downy hair that was feathery soft on Peter's chin when Peter kissed it.

I miss you, too.

Peter shut her out.

He opened his eyes to watch the ceiling above him as he was sucked hollow once more.

You have to be the shittiest father ever.

Peter would have argued that that was fucking unfair, because wasn't he still getting out of bed to take the kids to their appointments, paying for their tutors and extracurriculars, and even hosting them in his house, and they weren't even his? But that was such a piss-poor argument, and he knew it. He knew that Pakiza and Hasan could feel the distance, the coldness, because Peter was once them an unloving family ago. He couldn't keep doing it to them.

Time to crawl out of this.

First, he was going to need some serotonin. Peter turned to his side and held his phone up to his face. He tapped open Instagram and typed in

little atrocities

Peter still hadn't figured out when or how this new name for his fanbase came to be, but it tickled him when he found it, one of the more popular tags alongside #attrossitty and #attyparty. There were over five thousand new posts since the last ime he had checked -- not exactly Beyoncé levels, but enough to scroll through for an hour or two until he stopped hating himself. One of the very first posts he saw was a fancam reel with a rosy, dreamy filter of him and some K-pop star named Sun-Kist, and it took him an embarassingly long time for Peter to realize that it was a shipping fancam (Peter briefly closed out of the app to make a Note to look this Sun-Kist up and chat him up for a collab). There was fanart of Peter dressed as a drag queen Marie Antoinette from one of his shows. Next was a clip of Peter in the costume, with one of his backup dancers skipping up to him and ripping off the bountiful skirt from his hips.

On and on the posts went, photos and fanart and music covers. He was careful to avoid the hate, of course, but Peter was getting drunk off of it, this outpouring of the adoration, slowly not feeling like the worst person in the entire world.

Peter almost skipped a photoset when he saw that he was specifically tagged in it. Normally, he would be forced to skip posts that he was tagged in to avoid legal messes, but this was neither someone's original song nor someone's costume designs they saw him in, not a request for a brand partnership nor a hate-filled spiel accusing him of "falling off." It was just a selfie of a young woman. A baby, actually, couldn't be older than fifteen, with a heart-shaped face dotted with freckles, a swoop of deep red hair over her hazel eyes, her whole being glowing as she was having the time of her life.

Skimming the caption, Peter let out a soft laugh.

"Finally got the boomer to come to a show! He did not like being out so late, but it was fucking lit! He said he wants to catch another show if there's one before seven, lol. #newlittleatrocityrecruited."

Peter swiped through the photos of the girl dancing, singing along, waving a rose vine-themed scarf that she purchased from his merchandise shop. And there he was, the geezer himself, smiling thinly as he entertained his daughter (granddaughter?) and her stan behavior, his arms crossed as if trying to hold in his warmth in the chilly air. Poor dude, Peter chuckled as noted how the man looked ready to curl up where he sat, exhaustion clouding his eyes.

His brown, crows-feet eyes that tickled the back of Peters' head, that started wiping away the small grin on his face.

"...Wait..."

Peter sat up slowly, his own eyes widening as he stared at the man in the photo. Brown eyes, brown, round eyes, now sagged with age. The tickle in the back of his mind has spread, materializing into prickles eating along his arms, sickness filling his stomach as he painted over the gray on the man's temples and thick mustache with an auburn sheen, plumped the man's sagging cheeks and jawline, smoothing the wrinkles and slimming the shoulders. Back and back the clock went, as Peter sat frozen, a bunny caught in the stare of a snake's brown, sweet, warm eyes --

[imakemywings]

Ransom of the Fairy Twins (3/4)

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Relationships: Elrond & Elros, Elrond & Elros & Maglor, Elrond/Gil-galad

Summary: Maglor and Maedhros trade Elrond and Elros to King Gil-galad in exchange for a Silmaril, but they have miscalculated.

A fill for this prompt on the Silmarillion Kink Meme.

AO3 | Pillowfort | SWG

Previous chapter | Next chapter (TBP)

XI.

            One day in mid spring, they celebrated the birthday of a woman so old Elros could hardly fathom how she hadn’t withered up entirely yet.

            “How old are you?” he asked in astonishment when she beckoned him over to refill her drink.

            “Eighty-five,” she said with a cackle.

            Eighty-five. Oropher, Elros knew, had seen Cuivienien. Oropher was thousands of years old, in all likelihood, though he himself could not put a number to his age. Among Men, Madelyn was remarkable for her age—hence the scale of her party.

            “Are you not grieved?” Elros blurted out, setting the pitcher of cider back on the table. They had dragged a good number of them outside, as the birthday girl wanted to make the most of the lovely weather.

            “Grieved?” she said. “What about?”

            “You’re so old now,” Elros said uneasily.

            “And you think I shall die soon, is that it?” Elros blushed, feeling the rudeness of his inquiry. “So perhaps I will,” she said with a shrug. “Why should I be grieved about it now? It hasn’t happened yet!”

            “Are you not afraid?” he asked wondrously.

            “Come here, let me tell you something, Peredhel,” Madelyn said, crooking her finger at him. Elros leaned in towards her wrinkled face. “A great many things have I feared and grieved in my life,” she said more quietly. “A great many. Many of them were silly to fear. Many warranted every bit of it. Some I probably should have feared more. Here is the secret: if you get old enough, death loses its shadow. I have watched men and women cut down in the prime of life; I have watched babes perish in the cradle, some of them my own. That was something to fear. Now? When death comes for me, I imagine it will feel just like laying down and taking a nap, and just as easy.

            “If you spend your life always looking over your shoulder for death, you let it rob you of your chance to live,” she said. “There’s your birthday wisdom. Now, go and bring me one of those honey-cakes, like a good lad.”

XII.

            Elros insisted they stay a full year and a half with the Edain, as it was only fair given how long they had stayed in Balar, and Elrond could not dispute with that. But as the eighteenth month drew near, both brothers became increasingly aware that they had made no plans beyond this deadline. Their only thought when they left the Greenwood had been to learn more about where their families came from, with the idea that it might help them understand their own places in the world.

            Furthermore, it was apparent that Elrond was eager to be on, while it was Elros’ turn to drag his feet about leaving.

            “Elrond,” said Elros to him one day in early fall. “We need to talk.”

            “I’m busy,” said Elrond, who was at the butter churn and definitely not so mentally occupied with this task he could not bear to converse.

            “Are you really?”

            “I am,” said Elrond. “Certainly this talk can wait.”

            “It really cannot,” said Elros sharply.

            “Well I’m busy,” snapped Elrond, pumping the butter churn viciously.

            “This is important,” said Elros. When Elrond said nothing, Elros went on: “We need to talk about what we are going to do after our last month here is over.”

            “I told you I do not have time for this now.”

“You’re being a child!” Elros shot back, which earned him a furious glare.

            “You’re the one who’s not listening!”

            “Well, if you don’t want to talk about it,” said Elros, aware even as the words were bubbling up in his throat that he was saying something he didn’t mean, “perhaps I should just be off! You can find someone else to walk you back to Balar! Since Elrond always gets what he wants in the end, doesn’t he?”

            Elrond tore off his apron and threw it on the ground, storming out the back door and leaving Elros with the half-churned butter. For a long moment, Elros watched the door, but in the end, he did not follow Elrond out. Instead, he picked up the apron, tied it on, and silently took Elrond’s place at the churn.

            “Ah, thank you, Elrond,” said Rusbes, who was hosting them in her home, when she passed through the kitchen. “I shall sorely miss having you to help out when you and your brother are gone!”

            “Of course,” said Elros with a small smile.

            When he had finished, and his back and underarms were beaded with sweat from the vigor of his churning, he went out into the front yard to draw in the fresh air.

            “Hello, Elros,” called a familiar voice from the street. Elros opened his eyes and turned his face from the sky to smile at Madelyn. Immediately he crossed over to the fence.

            “How did you know it was me?” he asked.

            “I can tell,” said Madelyn confidently, waving a hand as if to scoff at the notion she might confuse the two of them.

            “Are you going to the butcher or the baker? I can carry something for you,” Elros offered.

            “Oh no, I’ve just promised to meet Arn for tea this afternoon,” she said. “A fool thing of me to promise, now I’ll have to finish that embroidery tomorrow.” But she didn’t sound too terribly put-out by her own social engagements.

            “Ah, well, have a lovely time,” said Elros. “And take a good helping of honey!”

            “You know I will,” she said with a mischievous grin, and then she carried on, slow, but not unsteady.

            When she was gone, Elros let out a sigh, and went back inside to hang up the apron. He said little at dinner that night, picking over his food in relative silence. When Rusbes’ husband and the two younger children retired to the hearth to play dice and sticks, Elrond joined them half-heartedly, but Elros merely sat on one of the chairs and watched with disinterest. He and Elrond said nothing as they prepared for bed. It was only when they were tucked into their bed with the candles out and the curtains drawn that Elros spoke.

            “Elrond?”

            Elrond pretended to be asleep.

            “I know you’re awake!” Elros did not know, but he felt quite sure. Still, Elrond did not respond. So Elros said nothing more, and waited until Elrond might truly be asleep before he slid out of bed and pressed his feet into his shoes.

            In just his nightshift he went out into the cool autumn air, passing through the rear yard until he was beyond the shed. He leaned back against the far wall of it, out of sight of the house and out of earshot, too, and then he cried. He wasn’t even sure he could name what he was crying for, or perhaps it was that it seemed too frightening to give it a name, or outline in his thoughts that he might understand the true shape of it.

            When he had begun to weary of his crying—when his throat ached and his eyes and nose felt raw—he heard a rustling in the grass too strident to be an animal. He wiped his nose on his forearm and swiped the heels of his hands over his eyes, so that he might look a bit less pathetic when Elrond rounded the corner of the shed in the silver moonlight. He stopped when he saw Elros there, and for a moment they just looked at each other.

            At last, Elrond said: “I’m sorry. I acted a fool today.” Elros nodded somewhat stiffly. The sight of his brother made the lump in his throat return instantly. “We do need to talk,” Elrond agreed, quieter.

            “Where are we going after this?” asked Elros, his voice not quite as steady as he had hoped it would be.

            “I…suppose I thought…back to the Greenwood,” said Elrond. “Or I suppose we could return to Balar. Gil-galad wouldn’t turn us away.” But Elros was already shaking his head.

            “I’m not ready to leave the Edain,” he said. Elrond said nothing. “Come on, Elrond,” he urged. “Our whole lives we have spent with Elves. Do you not wish to see something else? Are you not curious about them?”

            “I think we’ve gotten to know them relatively well,” said Elrond with a shrug. The truth was, of course, that he missed the Elves. He missed their philosophic conversation, and the beauty which imbued seemingly everything they did, and the libraries, and the way their thinking stretched so far into the future.

            “I am not ready to go back,” Elros repeated.

            “We could stay another month,” Elrond proposed generously. Again, Elros was shaking his head.

            “That is not enough,” he said.

            “Well, how long do you want to stay?”

            “I don’t know. I don’t know how long will feel like enough to me.”

            The twins stared at each other.

            “Elrond,” said Elros very softly. “Do we not both know where this is going?” Elrond looked away, fisting his hands in his nightdress. “We won’t be apart forever,” he insisted. “Just a little while. Until we both have what we want.”

            “What do you want?” Elrond cried, looking back at his brother. Elros tensed and scratched the back of his head.

            “I don’t know,” he murmured. “I…feel like I’m looking for something, and I have not found it yet. But I’m close.”

            “How can you do this?” Elrond whispered, his eyes welling up. “Just leave? Just break us apart?”

            “I don’t wish for it!” Elros exclaimed. “But I see no another answer, do you? You will be unhappy if I make you stay here indefinitely, and I will be unhappy if you make me leave. Is that what you want? For us to end up like them, hating each other?”

            “I would never hate you,” said Elrond furiously, hands balling up. “How can you even say that? That we could be that way?”

            “We won’t,” Elros said. “But I do not know what else to do. Do you?”

            Elrond said nothing.

            “It shall not be forever,” Elros repeated quietly. Elrond still said nothing, for he could think of nothing to say, no way around the conclusion Elros had drawn. Instead, he only came nearer, and the two embraced tightly, both tight in the throat.

            “Not forever,” Elrond echoed, holding Elros as tightly as he could.

            “Not forever.”

XIII.

            The roads had grown ever more dangerous since Elrond and Elros’ youth. Morgoth’s hand now stretched effectively over the whole of the continent, and among most villages, there was a gloomy sense of when not if his forces would ravage their homes. Nevertheless, life went on, if more warily than before, and a small merchant wagon accompanied Elrond back to Lindon, hoping to trade some of the village’s wares with the Elves.

            Elrond and Elros hugged another goodbye, but Elrond looked back many times at the village as he departed, and before it was out of sight, hurried back.

            “I forgot,” he said—Elrond hardly ever forgot anything— “I wanted you to take this. I don’t wear it anymore.” He handed off a cloak clasp to Elros, whose lips were twitching slightly.

            “Very well,” he said.

            “I shall want it back later, so keep track of it.”

            “Very well.” Elros was outright smiling by then.

            This time, he really left. They camped within sight of the road that night, and Elrond had little to say, leaning back against the trunk of a tree and watching the flames dance in the firepit. He had been looking forward to returning to Lindon someday, to seeing Gil-galad again, but it felt now overborne by his grief. It seemed to him that some line had been crossed, to which he and Elros could never return. They had broken the heretofore impenetrable barrier of their togetherness—and now that they had parted once, who was to say they wouldn’t part again? If they could part, then what was keeping them together? Only the presence of the merchants kept him from breaking down in tears.

            He barely slept the whole journey back, and abruptly left the Mannish traders as soon as they had arrived in the city. He made straight for Gil-galad’s castle, and the sentries must have seen him coming and announced his coming, for Gil-galad was in the front courtyard when he arrived.

            “Elrond!” the king greeted him warmly as Elrond dismounted his horse. Gil-galad tilted his head and looked past his guest. “Where’s Elros?”

            Elrond’s throat was aching at once. He said nothing, only came nearer, and Gil-galad opened his arms in invitation. Elrond nearly collapsed into this embrace, and could not stop himself from weeping, even if it seemed childish.

            “He stayed,” he managed to get out, lest Gil-galad think the worst, but no more could he say after that.

            “Ah,” said the king softly, his arms light around the young man. “I see.”

XIV.

            There had been a time he had not believed the world could keep turning if he and Elros were parted, a time he would have sooner died than let go of his brother’s hand, but alone in Balar without Elros, he found that life did, in fact, continue.

            It soothed the pain that Gil-galad was so genuinely pleased to have him there. Were he less pressed by the loss of Elros, Elrond might have been less willing to impose his company on Gil-galad, but as it stood, the loneliness that threatened him was immense, and he would cling to whatever could alleviate it. He asked to accompany Gil-galad on the hunt, and invited him to play games of chess and go, and took seats nearby him without being asked, and through all, Gil-galad seemed to have infinite patience. It reminded Elrond of all the reasons he had been reluctant to part with the king in the first place.

            He picked up a correspondence too, with Thranduil: He wrote to let the prince of the Greenwood know what he and Elros had been doing, and that he had made it safely back to Balar. Thranduil sent him a response, and Elrond was happy to continue it. Parchment was in increasingly short supply in Balar, as was everything else—the more entrenched Morgoth became in Middle-earth, the less trade went on, and Balar being an island was a boon to its security, but a terrible detriment to its import/export industry. As a result, Elrond and Thranduil were often obligated to re-use the same paper for a reply as they had gotten from the other, writing crossways between the other man’s lines. Occasionally, Thranduil included a greeting from Oropher, and Elrond found it warmed him, to think somewhere beyond his sight were people wishing him well.

            When Elrond had left Lindon last, he had still been quite young. A year and a half made no difference at all to an Elf, and yet Elrond was changed when he returned, and so too was his relationship with the king. Gil-galad looked more on him as an equal now, a fellow adult, and not a wayward child for which he felt some responsibility. Gil-galad even honored him with an official position at court: the king’s herald.

            “This way, you have a reason to stay,” he said with a smile, pinning a little ribbon of office onto Elrond’s robe.

            Elrond wanted to sweep him off his feet.

            He so wholeheartedly threw himself into any task that Gil-galad gave him that the king had to laughingly insist he take more rest, and on this account, Elrond was only too happy to accompany Gil-galad on slow walks around the garden, or down to the market to browse aimlessly, or to watch Gil-galad at play with some of the other Elves in the games they enjoyed in Lindon. (Any of these were preferrable to watching the far more common instances of Gil-galad rubbing his temples or wringing his hands over the state of Middle-earth and his fear for the future of the continent.)

            Still, he watched for correspondence from Elros. Letters took a good long while these days, as there were fewer travelers, and they were less likely to make it to their destinations than during the Long Peace, a time Elrond and Elros had never known. It took five months for the first of Elros’ letters to arrive, announcing he had gone south to a larger village—a real town, he said—and that he was staying with the lord there. Pages and pages he wrote about everything he had seen and everyone he had met, and he waxed rapturously about the Edain and their mythology and philosophy, and this he followed up with a full page of questions about what Elrond was doing and an exhortation to give Gil-galad his best.

            Elros sounded happy, and this made Elrond cry over the letter, because his brother was happy, and because his brother was happy without him. It felt right, and wrong, and he was too tangled up to sort out what was the most sensible thing to feel.

            When he raised the letter with Gil-galad later, he knew everything was different. When Gil-galad touched his cheek in comfort, he knew that the hammering in his heart was not his imagination running away with him again. Yet he demurred, accepting the nominal comfort without acknowledging what lay beneath it, and so he demurred onwards. He drew near to Gil-galad, only to pull back at reciprocity; he invited Gil-galad’s familiarity, then turned away from him seemingly on a whim; he let them dance endlessly around each other, both feinting towards crossing a line that Elrond was keenly aware of, and pretending he did not see.

            It was during one of their many late nights on the balcony of Gil-galad’s personal study that Elrond felt he needed to give the king an unwelcome reminder. He felt that he needed to do this because of how deeply Gil-galad was looking into his eyes, and how, over the course of the last few hours, they had been shifting nearer and nearer together, until they were almost shoulder-to-shoulder.

            “Gil-galad,” he said softly, then glanced out at the horizon, behind which the sun had disappeared and from which, to Elrond’s eyes, the last of the light had faded. “Ereinion,” he said, turning his gaze back to Gil-galad’s eyes. The king was certainly listening now. Elrond forced himself to hold Gil-galad’s stare and keep his face neutral when he said: “I am mortal.”

            “I know,” Gil-galad replied, too quickly.

            “Sometimes I think you need to be reminded,” said Elrond.

            “Perhaps there are more important things to remember of you,” Gil-galad replied. Elrond said nothing, but averted his eyes again, and Gil-galad straightened up, shifting slightly away. “If I have misunderstood…” he said. “If I have done anything to put you ill at ease, Elrond, then you have my sincerest and most profuse apologies. It was not my intention to do anything unwelcome.”

            “You did not…misunderstand,” said Elrond very quietly. “I simply feel I must warn you. You are immortal. I am not.”

            “Neither was Dior Eluchil,” pointed out Gil-galad, and Elrond’s eyes snapped up to his. “Yet still Nimloth wed him.” It seemed to Elrond he could hear the beat of his heart in his ears. “Neither was Tuor, who wed Idril. For that matter, neither was Beren, though Lúthien was still counted among immortal Elves when first they pledged themselves to one another.” And Elrond was silent, searching for some irrefutable point on how this was different. “As I said,” Gil-galad concluded cautiously. “If I have overstepped…then I will withdraw, and say no more of it. But if your only concern is for some future pain of mine…I would beg you trust that I know what I am doing. That I understand what I desire. At any rate, it may not matter much one way or the other,” he added, casting a gloomy look out at the invisible coast of the mainland in the dark distance. “Mortal or immortal may make no difference within a few years.”

            And he had been on such a romantic bent up until then.

            “I would not wish to cause you pain,” said Elrond carefully.

            “You would not,” said Gil-galad.

            “I do not wish to play with semantics,” Elrond replied a bit sharply. “But perhaps none of it matters, if we are doomed to see the end of a free Middle-earth.”

            Both men lapsed into silence, studying the orange glow of the city below, which from on high felt so achingly small relative to the great darkness of the night.

            “If we are to see an end,” said Gil-galad at last, very quietly, “I would rather have what joy we may, first.” Elrond looked over to see Gil-galad looking at him.

            “So would I,” Elrond agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. A slow smile spread over Gil-galad’s face.

            “Then, at last, we agree,” he said. Elrond nodded mutely, and, in lieu of words, took Gil-galad’s hand tentatively in his, and they went back to watching the city.

XV.

            Two years after they had said goodbye, Elros returned to Balar. He had written ahead to suggest he might be in the area sometime in the future, but not to say specifically that he was coming, so when the message from the guard came, Elrond was caught entirely by surprise. Gil-galad was meeting with some of his advisors, so Elrond alone rushed out to the courtyard in time to see Elros returning from leaving his horse at the stables.

            “Elrond!” he cried, waving. “I brought you—”

            Elrond said nothing, but charged at his brother, a run that Elros met until they crashed somewhat painfully together, immediately wrapped up in a hug. For a few moments, they stood silently holding each other, and then Elrond said: “Your hair!”

            Elros drew back with a grin and raked his hand back through his short black hair.

            “Do you like it? The Men down south wear it like this. You wouldn’t believe how much easier it is to care for! It dries so quickly now!”

            “I suppose people will stop confusing us now,” said Elrond, and he felt curiously sad about it.

            “One solution to that, brother,” said Elros, grinning again and raising his eyebrows.

            “No.”

            Elros said nothing else then, just stood grinning at him, then grabbed his shoulders, then let go again.

            “Ah! I brought you something.” He handed over a leaf-wrapped sweet bun.

            “This is…is this from the market here?” Elrond asked, taking it.

            “I didn’t say it was an exotic gift. I stopped through on my way up here.” Elrond looked at the pastry again, then carefully split it in half and gave one side to Elros. “I already had one,” said Elros, but Elrond just waved the pastry half at him, and he took it with another grin. He threw an arm over Elrond’s shoulder and steered him towards the castle.

            “Now, you must tell me everything you left out of your letters,” he insisted.

            “I didn’t leave things out!” said Elrond. Elros just looked at him skeptically, and Elrond sighed and looked askance. “Very well, I left some things out. Some things are better discussed in person!”

            “Agreed,” said Elros.

            Elrond was relieved to see much about them was still the same. They were still the same height, and there were no great changes to Elros’ face. Neither of them had ever much come into growing facial hair the way Men did, and that hadn’t changed. Elros seemed to have put on more muscle since Elrond had seen him last, and he’d obviously spent a lot of time outside, but their builds still largely matched, and somehow, Elrond was relieved.

            Very soon, it felt as if no time had passed at all. Elros was sitting cross-legged on Elrond’s sofa, telling him about a party he had attended recently, when Gil-galad announced himself, and then let himself in, as was his custom by then.

            “Elros!” he exclaimed, glancing between the twins. And then: “Your hair!” Elros grinned, but rose to his feet and offered a bow to the king.

            “My lord Gil-galad,” he said. “Forgive me for not writing to announce myself. I wanted to be something of a surprise.” Gil-galad smiled.

            “No apologies needed,” he said. “As I have always said, you are both always welcome here. And of course, Elrond is permitted whatever guests he likes.” Elros looked over at Elrond, who glanced away from both of them, slightly flustered, but not displeased.

            “Come and sit with us,” he said to Gil-galad. “Elros has some very entertaining stories of his travels.”

            “Oh, don’t let me do all the talking,” said Elros, noting that Elrond had not risen when Gil-galad entered. Elros took his seat again once the king had done so also. “I’m sure you have things to share also.”

[grassberrymattressindia]

Why Skimping on Sleep Makes Stress Worse (and How to Fix It)

We’ve all been there — late-night deadlines, binge-watching one more episode, or simply struggling to unwind after a busy day. What occurs, though, if we don’t get enough sleep? Not only does it leave us feeling groggy and irritable, but it can also have a significant impact on our stress levels. In fact, skimping on sleep can make stress worse. Let’s examine the causes and solutions for that.

The Link Between Sleep and Stress

When you don’t get enough rest, your body enters a state of heightened alertness, which can increase stress hormones like cortisol. Without sufficient sleep, your body’s ability to regulate these hormones becomes impaired, making it harder to manage stress effectively. You may find yourself snapping at the smallest things or feeling overwhelmed by tasks that would normally be easy to handle.

Moreover, a lack of sleep impairs your brain’s ability to process emotions. So, instead of reacting calmly to stressors, you might feel more anxious, agitated, or even depressed. Stress causes poor sleep, which in turn causes more stress. This cycle can easily spiral out of control.

The Role of Sleep Quality

It’s not just about getting any sleep — it’s about getting good quality sleep. A restful night’s sleep is essential for reducing stress, and this is where your mattress plays a key role. If your mattress isn’t comfortable, you may toss and turn all night, waking up feeling far from rested. An endless circle of stress may result from this.

If you find yourself waking up with aches and pains, it might be time to consider upgrading your mattress. A Memory foam mattress can provide the support your body needs for a better night’s rest. It conforms to your body’s shape, helping to relieve pressure points, and provides a sleep surface that promotes deeper, more restful sleep.

How to Improve Your Sleep

Here are a few tips to improve your sleep quality and reduce stress:

Stick to a Schedule: Establish a consistent bedtime and wake-up time each day, including on the weekends. This helps regulate your body’s internal clock, improving both the quality and duration of your sleep.

Create a Relaxing Bedtime Routine: Try winding down with a book, meditation, or gentle stretches before bed. Avoid screen time, as the blue light emitted by phones and computers can interfere with your sleep.

Invest in the Right Mattress: If your mattress isn’t supporting you, it could be contributing to poor sleep and increased stress. A Memory foam mattress can provide the comfort and support you need for better sleep. There are other great brands out there, too, like Tempur-Pedic or Purple, but Grassberrymattress offers a solid choice for those looking for orthopedic support and comfort.

Watch What You Eat and Drink: Avoid caffeine and large meals late in the day. Also, alcohol might make you feel sleepy initially, but it can disrupt your sleep cycles later in the night.

Exercise Regularly: Stress reduction and better sleep are two benefits of regular exercise. However, exercise should not be done too soon before bed because it may invigorate you and make it more difficult to fall asleep.

Fixing the Stress-Sleep Cycle

If you’re feeling stressed out, it’s time to prioritize sleep. Getting enough rest is one of the most effective ways to manage stress and improve your overall well-being. Recall that the quality of your sleep is equally as crucial as its amount. So, make sure you’re sleeping on a mattress that supports a good night’s rest, like a Memory foam mattress from Grassberrymattress or other reputable brands. Your body and mind will thank you!

By taking steps to improve your sleep and manage stress, you’re investing in your mental and physical health. Don’t wait — start sleeping better and living better today!

Visit Our website: https://www.grassberrymattress.com/

Callus: +91 95002 05226, +91 95004 34077.

[themachinehead]

Staff Augmentation vs. Legacy System Challenges — From External Pressures to Personal Stress

When you’re working with legacy systems, change is rarely straightforward. These systems are the backbone of your operations, but they come with a unique set of challenges. Transitioning to something new? That’s where things get complicated—and risky. It’s not just about adopting new technology; it’s about managing the domino effect that these changes unleash across your organization. One issue leads to another, and soon enough, external pressures, team tensions, and personal stress all collide.

Imagine a key team member with deep system knowledge leaves unexpectedly. You’re scrambling to fill the gap, and then a critical feature fails, putting data and operations at risk. Or maybe a system issue surfaces on the Friday before a holiday weekend, stretching resources to their limit. It’s a pattern that’s all too familiar: problems stack up, each one intensifying the next.

This is where staff augmentation becomes more than just hiring extra hands. It’s a strategic move that brings in specialized skills exactly when and where they’re needed. Whether it’s stabilizing data, filling knowledge gaps, or easing team workload, staff augmentation offers a tailored solution to manage each layer of these overlapping challenges. It’s not just a quick fix — it’s a way to regain control, support your team, and navigate complex transitions smoothly.

In this article, we’ll walk through real scenarios that demonstrate how these issues arise together and explore how staff augmentation can help you handle the ripple effects — keeping operations steady, morale high, and stress in check.

When a Key Employee Leaves and Everything Goes Sideways

Legacy systems can feel like mysteries locked inside the heads of a few key people. So, when one of those people leaves unexpectedly, it’s not just a staffing issue—it’s an operational crisis. You’re left with an information void just as new problems crop up, like data loss or a critical feature going down.

Suddenly, it’s not just one challenge; it’s a domino effect where gaps in knowledge, team strain, and technical issues all collide, threatening stability across the board.

Facing the Fallout When They’re Gone

You can feel the impact immediately. Data becomes harder to track, essential features start glitching, and the whole system feels unstable. Without your expert to rely on, you’re left scrambling to keep everything running smoothly, knowing the risk of failure is growing with each passing hour.

Data Risks Multiply: Many legacy systems lack basic safety features like automated backups or version control. Any slip-up with data storage, without the right person to fix it, becomes a major operational risk. Now, without your go-to expert, there’s no easy way to retrieve lost data or secure what remains.

Features Start to Fail: Those custom tweaks and features—ones that only your veteran employee truly understood—begin to act up. Clients notice, deadlines loom, and you’re one step away from a full-blown system outage.

How Staff Augmentation Steps In: By bringing in data recovery and system experts quickly, you can stabilize the situation. Data specialists can jump in to secure or restore critical data, while legacy system experts handle core functions, minimizing disruptions and keeping essential features running.

The Team Left Behind — And the Pressure They’re Under

Without your legacy expert, the remaining team members are stretched thin, suddenly juggling tasks they didn’t sign up for. Everyone is taking on extra responsibilities, and tensions start bubbling up as frustrations rise.

Workloads are out of control. Each team member has a full plate already, but now they’re managing tasks they weren’t trained for. Errors pile up, deadlines slip, and the frustration is almost palpable.

Rising tensions. When people are under pressure, collaboration suffers. The usual flow of teamwork turns choppy as misunderstandings grow, small issues become big conflicts, and the stress starts taking a toll on morale.

Knowledge bottlenecks. With the main expert gone, only a few remaining team members know parts of the legacy system. The result? Workflows get stuck, bottlenecks appear, and even minor questions cause major slowdowns.

How staff augmentation eases the load. A skilled temporary hire can handle the technical tasks, letting your team focus on what they’re good at. Adding short-term training support also fills knowledge gaps faster, easing tension and making sure everyone knows what they need to keep things moving.

The Personal Toll on Each Team Member

It’s not just technical overload; the personal strain is real. Team members are thrown into high-stakes roles, often feeling overwhelmed, unprepared, and isolated in their efforts to hold everything together.

Unfamiliar responsibilities. Faced with complex, unfamiliar tasks, team members start doubting themselves. “Am I even capable of handling this?” becomes a daily question, eroding confidence.

Burnout risks rise. With everyone pushing longer hours and taking on extra work, burnout isn’t far behind. Energy levels drop, productivity dips, and the cycle of stress and fatigue intensifies.

Isolation and pressure. Without the right support, employees feel like they’re on an island, with no one to turn to for guidance. The pressure to perform without slipping becomes overwhelming, especially when they’re uncertain about their new responsibilities.

How staff augmentation supports well-being. Temporary specialists ease the load by covering critical tasks, allowing your team to focus on familiar work and avoid burnout. Plus, having external experts to collaborate with reduces isolation and boosts morale, giving your team the support they need during a tough transition.

Bringing Stability Back

When a key person leaves unexpectedly, and everything feels on the brink, staff augmentation offers more than just a quick fix. It provides essential skills and knowledge when you need it most, restoring order amid chaos. With the right support, your organization can keep data secure, reduce team strain, and rebuild confidence—turning a potential crisis into a manageable transition that strengthens your operations.

Balancing Tech Demands and Team Tensions

When you’re integrating new technology into a legacy system, the pressure is on. There’s a constant need to innovate, to keep up with new demands, but that doesn’t mean everyone is ready for change. Your team faces the push to ideate, prototype, and implement new features while still managing the familiar weight of legacy tasks. But then resistance kicks in—longstanding team members might push back, refusing to share knowledge or even outright resisting the changes.

The Push for New Features, and Why It Feels Like a Losing Battle

The call for new features is loud and clear. Clients want more capabilities, executives expect tech upgrades, and your team feels the pressure to deliver. But that’s easier said than done when the foundation is a decades-old system, and innovation feels like forcing a square peg into a round hole.

External ressures for innovation. Stakeholders expect new features that fit modern needs, like integration with cloud platforms or enhanced data analytics. But the legacy system’s limitations and patchwork updates make even small upgrades feel like major overhauls.

Resource strain on your team. Team members are trying to juggle feature ideation and development while maintaining the legacy system’s stability. That workload—combined with tight deadlines—stretches resources thin and fuels frustration.

How staff augmentation keeps innovation moving. Bringing in experienced product development and technical specialists adds much-needed expertise without overloading your team. These specialists know how to work with legacy systems and can focus on prototyping new features, so your team isn’t pulled in too many directions.

The Resistance Factor: Navigating Interpersonal Tensions

With new technology, the friction isn’t just in the code. Some legacy team members have been running the system for years, and they see change as a threat. They might withhold knowledge, resist learning new tools, or challenge every update, creating a tense atmosphere for the rest of the team.

Knowledge hoarding and pushback. Legacy team members might keep vital information to themselves, creating bottlenecks. Or they might resist updates, adding friction every time the team tries to make progress on a new feature.

Collaboration breakdowns. When some team members are eager to adopt changes and others refuse, it creates an “us versus them” environment. This divide leads to miscommunication, stalled projects, and a breakdown in teamwork.

How staff augmentation eases interpersonal tensions. A third-party specialist can bridge these gaps. By bringing in neutral experts who know legacy systems, staff augmentation provides a buffer, encouraging knowledge-sharing and easing tension. These specialists often bring new perspectives, helping teams work through resistance and fostering a more open, collaborative environment.

The Emotional Strain of Change Fatigue

Everyone on the team feels the push-and-pull of these demands, but some feel it more acutely. For newer team members, adapting to the legacy system can be exhausting, and for long-timers, the constant pressure to learn new tools and adapt can lead to burnout. It’s a cycle of change fatigue, self-doubt, and frustration.

Stress of “proving yourself”. Newer employees might feel they have to prove themselves by adapting to both the legacy and the new systems. Meanwhile, veteran team members feel pressure to “keep up” with tools they aren’t comfortable with.

Risk of burnout and low morale. When deadlines loom and tensions run high, it’s easy for team morale to dip. Employees start to feel isolated, questioning if they’re capable of handling the changes and struggling to find energy for yet another update.

How Staff Augmentation Protects Well-being: Adding external experts takes some of the strain off the team. Temporary specialists handle the technical work of integrating new features, freeing up your team to focus on what they do best. Having that support lightens the load, reducing burnout risk and giving everyone a bit of breathing room.

Strengthening the Team, Even Through Tension

When team dynamics get strained and innovation feels like an uphill battle, staff augmentation can turn things around. By bringing in neutral specialists, you’re bridging gaps, easing tensions, and creating a team that’s ready for change. Staff augmentation isn’t just an extra set of hands—it’s a way to keep the team cohesive, focused, and capable, no matter how tough the transition.

The Holiday-Time Incident and Its Ripple Effect

Picture this: It’s Friday afternoon, right before a long holiday weekend, and just when everyone’s wrapping up, a major issue surfaces in your legacy system. Maybe it’s a critical feature breaking down, a data processing glitch, or an error in an essential workflow. Whatever the problem, the timing couldn’t be worse. With limited staff available over the holiday, you’re facing an uphill battle to keep things stable until the full team returns. This is where everything converges—external pressures, team dynamics, and personal stress combine to create a high-stakes situation.

Facing External Timing Constraints

When issues hit during a holiday, they don’t wait for convenience. Extended downtime threatens stability, making the stakes even higher. With limited in-house support, any delay could mean dissatisfied clients, unmet deadlines, or even compliance risks if the problem lingers too long.

Operational impact of the timing. An incident at this point throws the whole system off balance. Regular workflows get interrupted, service levels drop, and every hour of downtime becomes more costly. Knowing that your skeleton crew will be stretched thin over the weekend only amplifies the risk.

Escalating client and stakeholder expectations. External stakeholders—clients, regulatory bodies, partners—expect stability regardless of timing. They don’t see a holiday; they see a potential lapse in service, and that can lead to strained relationships or financial repercussions.

Solution with staff augmentation. Having an on-call emergency response team through staff augmentation allows you to manage this crisis. These experts are ready to jump in, troubleshoot issues, and maintain operational continuity, even during holidays. With this added layer of support, you avoid extended disruptions, keeping your clients and stakeholders reassured while minimizing damage to your system.

Managing Team Dynamics During a Holiday Crisis

The strain doesn’t just stop at operational impact. Your in-house team is likely to feel the pressure to “hold down the fort” during a time when they’d typically be taking a break. This is more than just an inconvenience; it’s an immediate burden on morale and teamwork.

Interpersonal pressures and burnout risks. Being asked to cover during a holiday, especially on short notice, can lead to resentment and burnout among those who are asked to stay. When people are called to handle more than they’d planned for, tensions rise, leading to strained relationships and, often, mistakes in critical moments.

Struggle with team communication. With part of the team off-duty and others scrambling to keep things running, communication can get chaotic. The team’s usual rhythm is off, and minor misunderstandings turn into time-consuming setbacks.

Solution with Staff Augmentation: By introducing rotating on-call staff from a staff augmentation provider, you reduce the pressure on your permanent team. These professionals fill the gap, covering key responsibilities and ensuring your team isn’t running on fumes. With support in place, your core employees don’t have to shoulder the entire crisis alone, helping keep team morale intact.

The Personal Toll of Unexpected Responsibility

The holiday season is often when people expect to unplug, recharge, and spend time away from work. But when a crisis lands on their plate unexpectedly, those hopes quickly fade. This unplanned responsibility can take a heavy toll on their well-being.

Overwhelming sense of responsibility. Being the go-to person during a holiday crisis means missing out on much-needed rest and relaxation, often with family plans disrupted. The emotional toll is real—employees feel stretched, isolated, and pressured to deliver under tough conditions.

Stress and exhaustion. When employees face a major incident without backup, it quickly leads to burnout. The stress of a high-stakes problem combined with the disappointment of a holiday spent at work can leave them drained, impacting performance long after the issue is resolved.

Solution with staff augmentation. Temporary on-call experts from a staff augmentation service provide critical coverage, letting your permanent staff take time off as planned. By lightening the load, you’re allowing your employees to prioritize their well-being while ensuring continuous support. This kind of backup not only handles immediate issues but preserves your team’s energy and morale, setting them up to return recharged and ready to take on their usual responsibilities.

Keeping Operations — and Morale — Stable

A holiday crisis doesn’t have to lead to chaos. With the right staff augmentation strategy, you can respond to critical issues without sacrificing your team’s well-being or letting downtime stretch on. From emergency troubleshooting to on-call coverage, staff augmentation provides the expertise and support needed to handle crises smoothly, even at the most inconvenient times. It’s about more than just filling in—it’s about ensuring that your team, your system, and your organization stay resilient, even under pressure.

[madaramee]

@rangikuxmatsumoto asked:

Using her foot to kick shove the wooden practice swords that he was painstakingly taking the time to repair out of her way she plopped down in his lap and open up the magazine that she held bookmarked in her hand. The open page reading 'Relationship Quiz: Ask Your Boyfriend these Questions...'

The process of repairing broken swords isn't an easy one, such trouble only mitigated by the material these bokken were made of (being, well, wood). As one in charge of training (read: primary squad abuser), and especially following the official promotion, seeing that all equipment was in top shape unfortunately fell to the bald man's jurisdiction. To say he could be doing better would be a stretch, honestly; he's been used to these sort of tasks, albeit on a more selfish intention rather an altruistic one.

Broken wooden swords were hard to mend. The sheer amount by itself didn't leave much free time, but the process by itself was long enough to deter most from even attempting it. While most would wrap some paper aids around the broken, mendable parts and call it a day, Ikkaku preferred going the longer route. The split wooden swords were goners, nothing could be done about those. But the cracked ones could be patched properly with some glue, designated materials, proper wrapping and in extreme cases, tsugi: using metal fillings to hold the laced wood in place.

He'd been indulging in the act, begrudgingly really, for at least an hour and some. Two swords set aside to dry after being recoated with varnish, seven to go, one in the making for a total of ten. Some time into work he could hear the house door slide open as the woman came in, exchanging a short-lived, proper greeting before he was allowed to return to his focus. He could at least respect that Rangiku knew when to stay put and let him work.

-- Yeah, as if. Of course she'd push away the finished products without care. "HEY!!!" He yelled, immediately riled as he watched his hard work crumble in the pressure of the fall. Not even allowed to give chase and restack the items as the woman decided it was her time now, seating herself very nonchalantly at his lap.

"Do you have ANY idea how long that took!!?" Ikkaku cried in frustration, disregarding the fact she chose absolute proximity, resulting in a practical scream into her ear.

But of course, the lady remained adamant in her endeavors to get on his nerves. Straightening her back and holding out the magazine for both to view, reading out loud in a clear voice, clearly for him to hear: 'Relationship Quiz: Ask Your Boyfriend these Questions'.

... ... Dumbfoundedness, letting the woman proceed into 'Question 1' in his stun, soon turned into a solid sneer, almost in complete disbelief. "...SERIOUSLY!!?" Her excuse for tarnishing his hard-earned work and effectively delaying the deadline by at least another hour and a half, was... A magazine. A quiz. If he didn't know her by now, he'd have thought this to be a really bad joke. "Can't this WAIT!!?"