#they likely aren’t there voluntarily

[et-excrucior]

So I’m going to highlight something I’m not sure people who like skeletons and curiosities think about often:

the human skeletal remains you see for sale in oddities shops were invariably grave-robbed.

I worked with human remains in an academic research context in the US for more than a decade. One of the first things I tried to teach my students was respect for the remains in our collections, not only because they were people, deserving of dignity in their death, but also because most of the skeletal remains in academic teaching collections were not donated voluntarily. In most cases, we have no idea exactly where they came from or to whom they belonged.

Historically, there has been a huge international trade in human skeletal remains for teaching medical students. The trade reached its peak in the 19th Century and continued for much of the 20th, and while ostensibly the practice was banned in India in 1985, it does still exist illegally. In the US and Europe, most of the remains in teaching collections were sourced from India through bone traders. Bone traders were (are) lower caste people charged with disposing of human remains—often by cremation, but also by interring in graves—but instead of doing so, sold the remains on to medical schools in the US/Europe through the intermediary of anatomical and medical supply companies. These anatomical specimens are the remains of people who were, unknowingly and without consent of their loved ones, denied their humanity in death to satisfy the appetite of the West for anatomical specimens, despite the remains of their own people being considered largely sacrosanct.

Which leads me to my next point: this practice originated under British Colonialism in India. I hope I don’t need to draw this point out, but objectification of these remains by medical students and researchers is a furtherance of the Western colonial project and othering of people of colour. As medical students, we’re trained to divorce ourselves emotionally from the remains we learn from in the name of professionalism. Medicine can often be confronting, and it serves patients and doctors alike to be able to continue working calmly and objectively in the face of those challenges. But in a world where empires and scientific disciplines have been (and continue to be) built on a legacy of scientific racism and dehumanisation, it behooves us to consider exactly how those teaching specimens were acquired—and how they came to be for sale.

Any human skeleton or human bones you see for sale in oddity stores are invariably retired teaching specimens, or were otherwise originally purchased through an anatomical specimen supply company that leveraged bone traders for acquiring their wares. In other words, those remains were grave-robbed, or stolen from funeral pyres and morgues. It is vanishingly unlikely that they are remains of known, ethically-sourced provenance like informed donation. If they were, they would not have been relinquished to the general public to be sold for profit. There would be contractual obligations that dictate how those remains would be managed once they need to be retired from teaching/decommissioned.

Please keep this in mind when you see human remains for sale in oddity shops. Buy plastic or ceramic teaching models instead. Don’t unwittingly continue creating a market for stolen human remains.

[screw-u-vaanu]

.

[crowhyun]

Life Update:

I’ve just graduated from flight attendant training, and I’ve earned my wings yall! I have about a week before I start inflight training and that’ll last about four days, and then i have another two-day training course, but as of now, I’m pretty much a fully certified flight attendant!

I’ve also finally found a place to live once I get to my base, as I was worrying about that a lot lol but things are going great.

I’m just a bit sad, because even though I felt like shit most of the time getting up so early and going to school for 10-12 hours a day, it was really fun, and I already miss seeing my classmates and talking to them everyday. We started out with 22 and ended up with 17, but it was still a big class compared to a lot of other graduating classes lol. Some of my classmates have already went on to their scheduled inflight training, and I’ll be the last one to go lol bcs mine is scheduled for the 26th, and four ppl have left already so I’m sad. My roommate is leaving tomorrow, though, and tbh I’m not sad abt that, I’ll be along in the hotel room for 4 days before I leave lol.

But yeah, I just wanted to tell y’all what’s going on. I’m finally going to get back to writing a bit for the free time I have while here, but I’m not sure if i’m going to post any works yet.

[tamamita]

Can I ask why people are pretending Jewish people aren’t native to the Levant? “Genocide is unforgivable, apartheid ethnostates shouldn’t exist, and you don’t get to kick people out of their homes, even if their distant ancestors kicked your distant ancestors out of their homes” is a fine statement on its own, and ignoring the truth or lying about it weakens the pro-Palestine argument. Like it or not, it’s not a case where a native population is being oppressed by foreigners- Jewish people are the First Nations of the area. This doesn’t mean even slightly that anything Israel is doing is acceptable, which is why I don’t understand why more people trying to liberate Palestine try and frame it as “foreigners oppressing natives”.

Despite the fact that it's been 2000 years since then, Jewish people have managed to form their own identity, culture and heritage in many other parts of their world which many people take great pride in, and subsequently renounced Zionism, focusing on the idea of Doikiyat (to strenghten Jewish community wherever they live). The Arabs and Jewish people have lived in the Holy Land for 1400 years and intermingled, so a bunch of people from Europe and America can't just suddenly have the right to return and evict people from their home and commit one of the greatest displacement of people in modern history by the right of some Whites, who didn't want the Jewish people in their lands. Second, the idea of a Jewish state is built on the notion of Zionism, which is a white supremarcist and imperialist ideology that calls for the degredation and forceful eviction of the Arabs for the settlement of the Jewish people. Palestinians aren't even calling for the expulsion of Israelis. What they want is that the Settler colonial state is dismantled and that their people are allowed to return as well with equal rights that the Israelis get to enjoy, but there will be no ethnostate. Zionism is a fascist ideology and no matter how much you wanna argue in bad or good faith, it is inhuman and the occupation is a form of genocide. Decolonization will be violent, and much of the Israelis will voluntarily leave, since they don't see Palestinians as humans, as was the case with the Pied-noirs after the Algerians took back their lands.

Second, Jewish people are not the first nation there, historically and biblically speaking.

[agenderakali]

It really gets me upset when the trans man lesbian crowd spreads these soft positivity posts like “trans men have always had a place in the lesbian community uwu” with not a degree of awareness. It’s been shown statistically, that a majority of cis lesbians will proudly state they would prefer to date trans men over trans women. It’s been shown how trans men are accepted by cis lesbians and welcomed in lesbian spaces over trans women. And it isn’t because of beautiful beautiful solidarity, its because they see them as women and they see trans women as men. Trans men have been equated with masc lesbians for decades and continue to this day, especially by terfs who use butch lesbian and trans man as interchangeable words.  The absolute tone deafness I’ve seen in these discussions boggles the mind, like saying trans men grew up identifying as lesbians, being treated as women, being “socialized” as women, so they have a ‘right’ to lesbian spaces. As if it doesn’t subtlety imply that transfems have less of a right to be there then they do, as if it isn’t regurgitated terf “male/female socialization” rhetoric. And when I point out these problematic elements I often get the trans men who argue for this stuff lecturing me about denying their agency and how they choose to be with lesbians. If yall want to date lesbians that’s fine, I literally cant stop you nor care to. It’s worth noting though, that there have been plenty of instances of trans men voluntarily dating straight men, yet we dont have this community push to validate straight men chasers and their trans boyfriends. For good reason, too.  I am not saying trans men need to be “kicked out” of lesbian spaces, I understand the solidarity between our communities. That solidarity will always exist. (And again I want to point out for the most part they are NOT being kicked out or excluded. Trans fems are) And I understand that “man” doesnt always mean man in a binary sense, some people are nonbinary men and women and things aren't always as clear cut. As a transmasc, nonbinary lesbian I understand that. This does not apply to you. I just want people to please take note of the transphobic, specifically transmisogynistic overtones that accompany a widespread push to have trans men as a group be considered as exceptions to lesbian attraction. 

[odinsblog]

“Smart Cars” + Capitalism = a very dystopian future

Ford’s patent ranges from having a “self driving” car return itself to the dealership if you miss a payment, to having the car abruptly disable itself, to “minor inconveniences” like having the air conditioner or heater stop working until you voluntarily return the car.

Don’t think for one second that all carmakers aren’t thinking about doing the same things. Especially Tesla Motors.

Carmakers are already trying to monetize even the most basic features, like charging monthly fees for the ability to use your car’s seat warmers.

Anyway, nobody does more to radicalize people against capitalism more than greedy capitalists.

[eminems-skittles]

Jess Mariano with the prompts 1. “Are you cold?” “No.” And 12. “My jacket looks good on you.” (But they’re not dating yet and there’s tension between them🥹)

25 days of christmas event

pairings: jess mariano x reader

warnings: none just fluff

a/n: hope you like it anon!!! i love writing jess <3

why you were voluntarily out in the cold, harsh wind, you weren’t sure. it was the morning of the snowman building contest and there was nothing you wanted more than to be snuggled in bed with all the blankets you could find. the cold air hitting your face was probably the harshest of wake up calls and the cold bench you were sitting on did little to prevent the shivers that were jolting through you. the only thing offering any relief from the icy air was the near empty cup of coffee from luke’s diner.

making the trek to luke’s seemed to take longer than you would have and you debated running across the street to get there that much quicker.

you sighed gratefully as the warmth of the diner overtook you, heating your cold nose and cheeks while you removed your gloves.

“hey y/n,” jess said as he walked by you with a smile that seemed to only be reserved for you. “i’ll be right there.”

you nodded, your face heating up for an entirely different reason. of course he had to be there when you were nowhere near functioning as a normal person would. you walked over to the counter and sat down, relieved to be sitting on something that didn’t feel like sitting on an ice cube.

“more coffee?” luke asked, moving to grab the pot from where it was sitting. you opened your to-go cup and placed it on the counter in front of you.

“yes please,” you sighed. luke filled the paper cup up with coffee before moving on to the next customer. jess appeared behind the counter a moment later.

“luke already get you coffee?” he asked. you nodded as you took a sip, the warm liquid already warming you up. “i was just about to head out there, you coming?”

“sure,” you agreed, immediately mentally cursing yourself. you were freezing you didn’t want to go back outside so why on earth did you agree? it was simple. jess asked you to, so you said yes.

jess called to luke saying he’d be right back and the two of you made your way back into the harsh cold. he led the way to the same bench you previously occupied. a silence that was equal parts awkward yet comfortable over took the two of you and the shivers that wracked your body returned.

“are you cold?” jess asked after a minute of silently observing you. that seemed to be what he did best. he was always observing, picking up on the things you believed to be nearly imperceptible.

“no,” you replied stubbornly. he could see you were cold, you might as well have ‘i’m freezing’ written across your forehead in sharpie. “it’s just a little chilly.”

“y/n, you’re shaking like a chihuahua,” he stated simply. before you knew it, he was shrugging off his jacket and placing it in your hands. “put it on.”

“aren’t you going to be cold?” you asked him.

“i’m going back in soon, i’ll be fine,” he said. you sighed and stood up, removing the jacket you were currently wearing and replacing it with his much larger, must warmer jacket. he smiled at the sight and if he noticed you subtly inhaling the traces of his cologne on the jacket, he didn’t say anything.

you smiled shyly at him muttering a quiet thank you. his hand came up to your face, pushing a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. his eyes trailed down to his jacket again.

his hand was resting on your cheek now and his thumb brushed across it, trying to send some warmth to your face in order to stop you from freezing. he leaned in but was interrupted by something cold hitting him.

“get back to work!” luke yelled, brushing snow off his hands. as he was walking back to the diner, he shouted “i’m not paying you to flirt!”

“did he really just throw a snowball at me?” jess asked incredulously, trying to get the snow off of his t-shirt.

you laughed and he smiled back at you. “so you have to get back?”

“apparently,” jess grumbled, annoyed that his uncle cut his time with you short. he started walking back to the diner but before he could get too far, he turned back to face you. “my jacket looks good on you. keep it.”

and like that, he had disappeared back into the diner and your crush on him grew impossibly larger. suddenly, the cold wasn’t all that unbearable, the warmth from his jacket (and his words) spreading through you like wildfire.

[junowritings]

Can I request headcanons for Haarlep, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with gn crush who can't genuinely can't tell if someone is being platonic or romantic to them?

Anon dear nothing but kisses thank you for the amazing request and requesting my fav Tiefs~

I'd wanted to leave the scenarios between each vague when I began this; I swear this started off small but it's now like 2am and ten pages long but here we are!

Also I've only just finished Act 2 so I may not have been too accurate with Haarlep and the others' act 3 moments but I do hope you enjoy~

=======

Haarlep 

♡ You’ve certainly put yourself in it this time. Managing to earn the affections of an incubus like Haarlep? You’ve either done something very right, or so very very amusing.

♡ At the House of hope the lines between affection and lust have all but blurred for Haarlep long before you showed up snooping around in places you weren’t supposed to be. You aren’t the first one to be lured in and, if the place’s owner had its way, you most certainly wouldn’t be the last; but that doesn’t mean you can’t provide some worthwhile entertainment for the incubus you stumble across in Raphael’s quarters.

♡ The second you’d poked your head into the boudoir to snoop you’d caught Haarlep’s attention, if only for the fact that you most certainly shouldn’t have been poking around so brazenly. They’ve heard your name plenty of times; heard how you’ve toed the fine line of keeping Rapael on his toes at every turn without making an enemy of him - yet. You should know better than to test the limits like this - but you don’t, and that makes the thought of killing you so wasteful to Haarlep when there’s far more amusing ways to make use of you.

♡Maybe it was merely for curiosity’s sake that they allowed you to walk in and out of the place with your life and soul intact; the potential of getting to do something - or someone - fun too tempting to pass up on after wiling the days away with the same old faces. For you to come voluntarily traipsing round the corridors of Raphael’s very ‘home’? Knowing the consequences and either too brave or too foolish to heed them? Now that piques the incubus’ interest, enough that they’re willing to let you leave after they’ve had their fun. After all, they know you won’t be able to stay away for long.

♡ You keep coming back - of course you do. You’re fun to toy with - the most amusement that they’ve had in quite a while. Even with an unwanted guest squirming around in your head and time being a precious commodity when your corner of the world is on the line, you always have a penchant for coming back for more. And they are more than content to give you those reasons to keep coming back; you’ll never stray for long now that they’ve got their claws into you, of that they’re certain.

♡ Oftentimes your visits aren’t with the promise of fulfilling desires - at least not the carnal ones. Instead you make a habit of sneaking into Raphael’s boudoir just to keep them company, flashing them that mischievous grin as you stretch out onto that luxurious bed and eagerly pat the space beside you. Haarlep feigns the role of a lover well - they’ve had enough centuries to hone their craft after all. So even they know when the line between a mere amusement and something more affectionate begin to blur together when it comes to you. It's gradual, of course - those simple hours listening to you rattle away about the latest scandalous adventure as they gently card clawed fingers through your hair; watching those little twinges of content pleasure on your face as you lean into their touch almost instinctively. 

♡ Haarlep is intimate by nature, always wanting to keep a hand on you at all times no matter the form that they take. Even in the most mundane circumstances you’ll find claws rubbing soft circles into your sides, a head perched upon the crook of your shoulder and warm breaths against your ear just close enough to get you to squirm or playfully push them away. If they’re feeling particularly greedy they’ll hide you away from the world within their wings, pulling your attention to focus purely on them as their tail curls loosely around your leg.

♡ The first night that you make the mistake of drifting off right there in the incubus’ arms is the day that Haarlep puts a face to the emotion that rattles awake within their chest. When was the last time they had felt such affection? Adored for merely existing? The concept of love is inherently foreign for someone like Haarlep, who has long released any such ties the moment they were contracted to be Raphael’s personal mirror in bed. And yet the feeling is relished nonetheless. 

♡ Be it blind trust or mounting exhaustion that leads you to this they care not; they’re far more focused on engraving every little contour of your face to their mind, running a finger down the curve of your jaw with a pleased hum. Such a hopeless one they’ve managed to fall for - if only you knew just how much you drew them in.

♡ Haarlep knows full well that you must be a little clueless to keep willingly coming back to the incubus without thought of the potential consequences. One would mistake you for a fool, or someone who values their life so little - but you’re neither (most of the time), and it doesn’t take much for Haarlep to clock onto why that is. You’re hopeless at differentiating between platonic and romantic advances; poor thing. A better person would take pity on you, perhaps assuage your inner turmoil with a few simple words. But when the alternative is being able to get you squirm with just enough hints to keep you on your proverbial toes? Well, who could fault them for keeping you guessing? 

♡ Out of all of them, Haarlep is more than happy to keep you spinning with this ‘will they won’t they’ game that they have circling around your head all of the time. Why waste a good thing with something so frivolous when they already have you right where they want you? Away from prying eyes, tucked away in their arms as they make your head spin with honeyed words and teasing remarks of your little conundrum. There’s no need to spoil the party by putting a name to the blatant feelings that lay thick in the air, is there?

♡That’s what they believe at least while they have you. But alas there’s always the inevitable departure - time is ticking on the surface world, your world. And you can’t spend all of your days in the House of Hope for them to seek out whenever they wish, though the idea becomes more and more appealing with each passing day. They're always reluctant to see you leave, hoping to tempt you back with teases and promises, all the while their hands are on your hips and his tail is back to curling around your ankle as though intent on convincing you to stay. 

♡ They allow you to slip from their claws if you insist, but don’t think you won’t have eyes on you until the very second that you disappear through that portal, contemplating pulling you right back for one selfish reason or another. They have teased and pulled at your heartstrings about missing you before - a comment once said in jest to rile you up - but this time Haarlep’s the one who feels the familiar tug as they slink back to their familiar stage. There’s the ripple of shifting bones and infernal magic rippling through them as they don your form, standing before the mirror within Raphael’s quarters as they bring a hand up to affectionately caress the flesh of their - your - cheek. An imitation of the real thing, but it serves its purpose as they anticipate your return.

♡ Perhaps, they decide as they map out every inch of this reflection of you, they will wrap this little game up sooner than they thought. Better for the cat to snatch you up before a fox does, hm?

Dammon

♡ Nothing’s been easy since long before Dammon and the other Tieflings took up the journey to Baldur’s gate, hoping for a better life than the ones that they’re leaving behind. He’s had to leave a lot of things behind in pursuit of that better life - his forge and his tools, anything he couldn’t carry or risk going back for. Hells, he was limited to the clothes on his back and the essentials he’d been fortunate enough to take with him; but that was all he had left of his old life, and Dammon knows the others are the same. It’s not just material possessions either - any plans he once had about his future went up in smoke months ago, instead clinging to the hope of forging some kind of livelihood in the city when they finally arrived. Anything other than that? Any dreams of love? A partner? A family? A dream is all they’re set to remain as.

♡ Dammon’s thankful that there’s plenty of things to keep him busy. Sure the forge and tools at the grove don’t hold a candle to his setup back at his old place but it’s an excellent way to keep himself occupied whenever he finds himself getting restless and itching for the outlet of familiarity. While things remain a stalemate between the Tieflings and the druids, he passes the time helping where he can, repairing armor and weapons with what limited materials he has to make sure that no one’s going out there completely unarmed. It’s good work for now, and lets him stave off the pining, leaving the humored thoughts of kindling anything romantic with anyone for the lonely nights at his forge or tucked away in his books.

♡ That all changed once you came along of course.

♡ Your mere presence is a whirlwind of a tale in itself. Armor bashed and dented from something much larger than goblins, weapon looking as though it’s one good swing away from snapping in two. Hells, it looks like you took a tumble from a damned cliff and walked it off - a thought he admits to a few days after your first meeting. He decides it’s probably best not to ask when you laugh, patting his back with a shake of your head as you chuckle that he doesn’t know the half of it. Wherever you came from you’ve taken a hell of a beating, and yet you still look ready to take on the world as you amble over to his forge to browse his wares and introduce yourself to the tiefling.

♡ You make yourself known about the Grove, making fast friends with some and tolerable allies in others. Dammon’s firmly in the former category, and really enjoys having you around. Even if you don’t know much about smithing you humor him whenever he talks about his craft, listening with an eager ear whenever he gets that bright glint in his eye that signals he’s going to go on a tangent. Don’t mention it though - it will fluster him to the hells and back to know that you notice that kind of stuff. Not to mention you respect his space while he’s working. Dammon’s focus when his working is honed in on defining details and making each piece perfect in his own way, so it's easy to lose track of what’s going on around him when he’s bent over his forge with his newest labor of love. 

♡ Maybe that’s why you’re able to catch him by surprise so often, startled out of his own reverie spotting you leaning against the beam of his makeshift workspace. You comment how amazing it is to see him so immersed in his craft - it’s inspiring, really - and that small appraisal alone has his face turning a lovely shade of copper. His work’s been praised before - it’s the highlight of his days seeing people genuinely appreciate the things he creates with his own hands. But being the one receiving such praise rather than the items he makes does something to his poor heart.

♡Dammon recognizes that he’s beginning to fall for you. It’s not something that hits him all at once, more like a gradual wave of affections that wash over him with each little greeting or rushed wave as you dart around the camp and back out again on the next adventure. It makes him feel…lighter, warmer. He’s tried to remain hopeful about what the future holds, to keep morale going in his own way; but he’s just as uncertain about it all as the others are. But having you around? Seeing the lengths that you go to - both from the issues at the Grove to the attack on the inn and the conflict at Moonrise? That kind of life that he had to push on the backburner feels feasible now - and you’re beginning to become an integral part of it at every turn.

♡ Dammon’s love language is acts of service, so you can expect him to go out of his way to do things for you to make your life easier. It starts off small; giving you discounts on anything you buy from him and little freebies he can spare whenever things aren’t so dire. Dammon always believes that you deserve more however, so eventually you can find him going out of his way to fashion whatever materials he can spare into things for you. 

♡ He’s no jewel smith, but he knows his own craft well, so he’ll gift you things that he knows you’ll find useful - weapons . He’ll refuse any kind of payment you try to give him, assuring you that you deserve far more after all you’ve done as he gently presses your gold back into your palm with a warm smile, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. 

♡And yet you still wonder why the party strong-arms you into being the designated buyer whenever you stop by his forge for repairs or supplies - your lack of awareness is going to give Gale more gray hairs at this rate.

♡ The only problem with Dammon’s acts of service, is that it’s very easy to mistake these gestures as him just being a good person - which he is! You’ve seen how easily he goes out of his way to help others in a pinch. You were there when he went through all of that effort to help Karlach curb her infernal engine enough to give her the chance for closeness that she’d been deprived of for years. (after all she’d almost cracked your ribs returning the hug you’d given her to test if Dammon’s upgrade had worked.) It’s easy for you to rationalize all of his gifts as something that’s just platonic - you couldn’t hope for more, right?

♡ Dammon wishes so badly that you would.

♡Is certainly the most upfront about his crush out of all of the tieflings once he realizes that you struggle to discern any romantic intentions. Though he does worry that he’s the one misreading the situation and that you may not actually reciprocate the feelings he has for you, in the end it doesn’t stop him. He needs to get his feelings out there before they burn over - especially with what could very well be the end of the world dangling over everybody’s heads by the time you all finally reach Baldur’s gate. If he doesn’t do it now, he worries you’ll never get the chance to figure it out for yourself. 

♡ He’ll call you away from your companions, asking for a moment of your time at the back of his shop. Tucked away in the far corner of his workplace, it reminds him of back at the Grove curled over his forge with you by his side watching him work with a quiet admiration. The memory gives him the confidence to reach for your hand, noting the way your eyes widen and your breath catches. You’ve fought gods and toppled cults, and yet you’re left speechless by his touch? As if the tiefling couldn’t fall for you any more. 

♡ If he had his way, Dammon would give you something far better than just spilling his feelings, something more profound than just words. But he knows better, that you’re on borrowed time and a small moment whisked away in the back of his forge is all he can give you right now - with promises for a proper date and confession when you come back alive.

♡ Expect Dammon to go overboard with the gift though, because of course he won’t just leave it at words. He keeps flipping between something classic like flowers and sweet treats (maybe even craft some metalwork flowers himself?); or perhaps you’d like something more practical like a weapon or armor with custom engraving (that he absolutely put his signature on in the hopes it will remind you of him when you’re on the road.) In the end he decides to go with a combination of both, carefully tucked away somewhere safe to give to you whatever your answer may be.

Rolan

♡ The idea of a crush was, at the beginning, a laughable notion to Rolan. Back at the Grove his priority was focused on two things and two things alone - one, getting to Baldur’s gate to begin the apprenticeship he’s dreamed of for months; and two, getting Cal and Lia there with him in one piece. Anything beyond that was unimportant, at least, that’s what he told himself at the time to make the idea of leaving the Grove without the rest of them more palatable. But then of course some newcomer just had to step in during one of the bi-daily spats about it and that whole idea went up in the air along with whatever patience he may have had.

♡ You’d convinced him to stay, convinced him not to pack up and leave in just one conversation and he’d bended to your interjection just like that. Rolan still doesn’t know why he conceded, watching with furrowed brows as Lia rounded on you excited to figure out how you did that and Cal sighing in relief that the whole argument was finally over with. It doesn’t matter - soon you’ll be right back out of those gates, just another soul passing through, and you’d be gone as though you never existed in the first place.

♡ If only it was that simple, but no, you just had to stick around instead of carrying on your way. Perhaps it would have saved his heart the trouble if you hadn’t.

♡ His feelings are misplaced, mistaken for frustration watching you traipse around fixing problems he hasn’t been able to. At first it’s jealousy - another ugly feeling he won’t admit. How do you make helping people look so easy? Breathing life into the cracks that have formed between the two groups and patching them up as simply as you breathe? 

♡ It doesn’t help that you stop by to see him every time, a habit that persists long after your time in the Grove. Rolan believes it’s out of pity and the wizard is ready to give you an earful about it. But the longer you stick around the more he has to come to terms with the fact that it’s nothing as malicious as that - you just enjoy coming to see him, for whatever reason. Rolan doesn’t know at what point your company becomes more than tolerable, even enjoyable - but the idea of it being anything more than that, with anyone much less you, is a far off notion.

♡ Of course he doesn’t expect to fall for someone, and he most certainly doesn’t expect it to be you. He’s a stubborn soul, who is just as reluctant to come to terms with his own feelings, much less the realization that these feelings aren’t the closely guarded secret he believed them to be. 

♡ All it takes Cal makes an offhand comment once about how Rolan’s ‘complaints’ about you these days sound more like praises - that if he didn’t know any better it sounds like he actually loves having you around. And just like that Rolan very nearly chokes on the drink he was unfortunate enough to be imbibing in at the time. 

♡ Him? Have feelings for YOU?! You, some wayward adventurer with a penchant for sticking your nose in where it doesn’t rightly belong out of some presumed sense of duty to this little wayward band of Tieflings? Who goes out of your way to seek out his company again and again no matter how harshly he comes off in return? Who humors his temper, grins at his sarcastic wit, and gives him that damned smile that sometimes makes the warmth in his chest feel like it’s shooting straight up to his throat threatening to spill-

♡ Oh.

♡ Oh no.

♡ The lightbulb pings simultaneously, and it's a good thing you’re not around to hear his siblings absolutely losing it over the knowledge that their brother is stuck pining over you. Not even a few weeks ago he was cussing you out over some perceived slight that was childish in hindsight, spurred on by his own feelings of helplessness. But now? You still made his blood boil, but gods if it didn’t feel like his blood burned for you now.

♡ Rolan’s way of flirting is by showing off to you. He believes that his greatest asset to impress you is his magic, and is fully prepared to use the arsenal of non-lethal spells at his disposal in an attempt to get you swooning. During the celebration at the Grove he remembers fondly the sound of your applause at his performance, your eyes alight with mirth as the sky right above your heads came alive with the results of his magic. The satisfaction of witnessing your face light up in the glow had been worth it; you’d rolled your eyes at his admittedly overdramatic bow but still grinned as your expression softened in embers of the campfire. It still has that warmth Rolan’s begun associating with you kindling in his chest, so he sets on impressing you every chance he gets, with the hope that just maybe it’ll be enough to kindle a warmth within you too.

♡ Rolan insists that he’s not outright confessing to you because surely you already know? Granted he hasn’t been the most…open, about his feelings, nor has he been very direct in his approach where others would have been bold…

♡ Oh who is he kidding - the thought of your rejection scared off any attempts to confess before this point. You’ve always been there - coming in every time there’s been mortal peril to save his life and the lives of his family again and again. It’s hard not to feel as though he’s got nothing to give every time you prove your resilience - would you even want him after you’ve seen him at his worst? He’d much rather live with the torment than know the answer to that question, even if it gnaws at him every night.

♡ Before you ask, yes there’s a betting pool on who’s going to confess first. What began as an inside joke spread like wildfire amongst the group the second Mol caught wind of the lucrative deal. Rolan doesn’t know what’s more mortifying - the fact that his affections are blatantly obvious enough to everyone around the pair of you, or that despite all of this you’re the only one who has no idea.

♡ Someone else is going to have to break the stalemate that’s going on here and convince him to confess. Not just for your sake or Rolan’s, but because your respective groups are getting fed up with the building tension with no-one saying anything. Gods you can’t both be this dense can you?

♡ Yes. Yes you can. And no one is having a good time right now.

♡ Fortunately for the both of you, the aftermath of Moonrise is when the dam finally breaks on all of the things that Rolan’s been holding back. Loose lips sink ships, and in Rolan’s case all of the drinks he’d imbibed earlier attempting to drown his sorrows at the last light inn have eased the filter that kept his feelings at bay. It’s made him far more prone to speaking his mind, not to mention that he’s still reeling from the rush of relief at seeing his siblings alive - yet another thing he has to thank you for - so much so that he’s seeking you out before he can think otherwise.

♡ He doesn’t have to go far; you and Rolan nearly butt heads as he goes to shoot up from his seat, and though you look worse for wear still bearing the bruises and battered gear of a battle well won he watches your expression light up. All it takes is seeing you’ve come back alive, that you’ve come straight to him before you’ve even thought to patch yourself up and his resolve crumbles. 

♡ Rolan’s out of his chair and in your arms before you can blink, one hand winding through your hair and the other pressed against your back to stop you from falling flat on your ass with how swift he moves as he holds you like you’ll slip right through his fingers. He swears he can hear your heart hammering against his chest, too focused to notice the twitch of his tail curled round your leg. By the time he catches himself, Rolan practically goes rigid and pulls back, enough to see your face. The tiefling takes in your wide eyes and slack jaw with a sudden jolt of clarity that fuck, you really weren’t aware of what you were to him this whole time; and now he’s gone and-

♡ He opens his mouth again - whether to take it back or blame it on the drink. But before he can there’s arms around him, and suddenly he’s back in his chair with your face pressed into the crook of his neck, and he swears he sees a flash of red on your face enough to rival his own skin. You hold him tight enough that he has to focus a little to breathe, but it’s a sacrifice he makes gladly as his ears pick up on your hurried murmurs of ‘having no idea’ and ‘can’t believe it’ as you practically corner him into his seat.

♡ The moment is broken by the swift screech of “Finally!” from somewhere in the inn, and suddenly the world’s spinning again. Rolan’s glare over your shoulder in a bid to suss out the offending party is half-hearted, lacking any real bite in lieu of having someone far more important to focus his attention on.

Zevlor

♡ Welcome to slow burn two: electric boogaloo, and in this essay I will-

♡ Zevlor has not lived an easy life, even before the fall of Elturel; you can tell he’s got more than his fair share of scars and war stories behind those deep yellow eyes, the testament of a man who fights daily to hold the pieces of his hope and faith close to his heart. He’s a weathered soul, who many have relied on and put their faith in even in spite of his own perceived shortcomings. The tieflings that he leads to safe pastures are no different; they’re all hoping to find a better life at Baldur’s gate, and all of them turn to Zevlor to lead them all there. 

♡ The relief is almost palpable when you arrive through those gates, dragging Aradin and his men in behind you. You’d made short work of the goblins fighting to tear their way inside, still plucking bits of arrow and guts from the battered shell of your armor as you’d wandered into the Grove alongside the rest of your party. 

♡ He has every reason to believe that you’ll simply go on your way, knowing that you’re more than capable enough to handle the threats out on the road to leave the Grove in your peripherals without a second thought. Yet you don’t; instead you’re right back into the fray, pushing between the spat between himself and Aradin without hesitation with a sharp reminder that there’s more here at stake than some squabbling about something that could have - but didn’t - happen.

♡ Zevlor isn’t proud to admit that he’d hoped you’d be useful in easing tensions in the grove between the Tieflings and the druids. You’re a neutral third party, so to speak, and though he’s sure that the druids are set on locking down the grove and kicking them out to the wilds he hopes that someone like you will be able to at least buy them all some time. When that inevitably didn’t work he’s surprised to learn you’ve set your sights on the next best thing - forget just the goblins at the gate, you’re gearing your party up to take on the source at the heart of that camp.

♡ He’d be lying if he said he didn’t admire you from the beginning, a feeling that only becomes more profound the longer you’re around. Zevlor watches you humor Mattis’ salesmanship, sees you taking the time to train the others to better defend themselves and diffusing any quarrels on the daily rounds that you insist on joining the Tiefling on. It has a visible impact on the camp’s morale, and Zevlor has to wonder if you were truly just a passing adventurer or something more divine sent to them in their hour of need when he catches you conversing with the other tieflings, bringing smiles to their faces after months of hardships.

♡Another firm member of the ‘won’t broach the blatant pining in the room’ club. Zevlor’s lived long enough to put a name to the emotions that he’s feeling, and has taken the time to process what exactly that means when it comes to his feelings for you specifically. What he feels for you runs deeper than respect, deeper than the mere admiration that he held for you at your first encounter beyond the gates. 

♡You consume his thoughts every second that you’re not close to his side. Worries himself into a panic each time you leave the safety of the grove wanting to follow but kept rooted with his own duties. You’re more than capable of defending yourself as you’ve demonstrated time and time again, but gods if he doesn’t lament not being there to protect you as ardently as you do to others. It would be selfish to want such a thing, but it doesn’t stop him from craving it in the least.

♡ Out of every single being on this list, there is none more reluctant to confess to you that he’s begun to fall for you than Zevlor. He knows this affection; wishes for nothing more than to allow himself this small act of greed keeping it close and savoring the warmth it provides. But unless you say something that is as far as he is willing to dare your relationship to progress. 

♡ What really stops Zevlor from confessing is himself. He firmly believes that he’s simply not worthy of you. He’s a man who has made too many mistakes, made too many choices that have led to lives lost and consequences on those around him. Surely you deserve someone unmarred by that kind of life? Who can give you love uninhibited by the guilt and ghosts of one's past that plague him on so many sleepless nights?

♡ But oh how easily you’ve got this man curled around your finger, and you don’t even know it. Now that you’ve so thoroughly poured your life into the cracks of his soul, after everything you’ve done, that selfish want kindles a fire in his heart. He’d drop to his knees and pledge you his life if it meant having you look at him with a sliver of the affection he holds for you.

♡ The closest that Zevlor’s ever gotten to confessing to you was during the after party in the Grove. It had been the first time in who knows how long that Zevlor could try to shelve his worries for the future, to allow his guard to relax for the single night of revelry that this celebration offered. A respite like this was far too welcome, and Zevlor was about as ready to fall asleep where he stood as he was to wile the hours away enjoying the revelry.

♡ And there you were, the one responsible for it all leaning up against his side, thoroughly exhausted from doing the rounds around the camp but beaming with pride. His eyes were on you the moment you pressed a hand to his shoulder, golden eyes glowing in the light of the campfire taking in your ruddy cheeks and tired grin as you sighed over how good it was to finally see him smile.

♡ Perhaps it was the longing of a sentimental old tiefling, or being half drunk on the atmosphere that seeped into every fiber of the party, but in response he’d brought a hand to cover your own. Zevlor had guided it away from his shoulder and you’d allowed him to with ease. You’d watched with curious eyes as he’d brought your hand up just enough to brush his lips across your knuckles, ghosting over bruises and scrapes with an unspoken reverence.

♡ You’d never had the chance to ask him what you’d really meant to him back then - Alfira had interjected to veer you back over to the party, eager to show you the beginnings of her next song dedicated to your feats. And by the time you’d spun around to look for him again Zevlor had all but slipped away, gone for the rest of the night.

♡ By the time you reach Baldur’s gate you’re still struggling to discern Zevlor’s feelings from that night. That’s it; no one else can wait for you to realize the obvious anymore.

♡ Someone else is going to have to step in to give you a nudge in the right direction, and not a gentle nudge either - if you’re truly struggling to see how hard Zevlor is crushing on you you’re going to need an intervention. Don’t be surprised if your traveling party is the one to bite the arrow and do it. You have no idea whether to be confused or offended when they drag you aside to break it to you and ease their suffering. Astarion is griping on about how this started off entertaining but now is downright painful to watch you two eyeballing each other and not doing anything about it. Wyll is trying to stem the migraine he gets in his attempt to really drive home that you’re not just imagining all of these romantic moments you’ve had with Zevlor. And Lae’zel is several minutes away from clocking the entire group round the heads with the hilt of her sword for wasting time.

♡ She shoulders past the other two with a biting comment about their lack of efficiency before turning her attention back onto you. Her tone is sharp but not unkind as she quips that you’re wasting breath on your own perceptions of the tiefling’s actions. What you should focus on is what you want and how to get it. Besides, even a fool would notice the way he starts at your beck and call - she’d like to believe that you’re as competent as she thinks to put the pieces together.

♡ Lae’zel’s words do the trick. They watch your brain shoot through every train of thought you’ve been battling with all at once, eyes comically large and hand clamped over your mouth in a poor attempt to mask your scream of realization as you do exactly what she says. And then the next moment you’re scrambling past your companions, a frantic command for them to meet you back at the camp before you all but trip over the pavement beneath you in your haste to seek out the former hellrider.

♡ Once you find him, Zevlor almost jumps out of his skin with how hard you barrel through the door and into his home. He’s half a mind to worry that there’s something seriously wrong, immediately rounding to close the distance between you and place his hands upon your shoulders to keep you from falling flat on your face. The questions of concern die on his tongue the moment your hand cups his face, guiding him to look at your face and thumb brushing over the ridges of his cheek in such a way his mouth runs dry.

♡ When you finally blurt out what you came here for, asking through hurried breaths if he loves you Zevlor all but freezes beneath your touch. His eyes are wide, wild with the fear that you’ve come to turn him down and fully prepared to assure you that he’ll never burden you with his feelings ever again. That is till you continue for him. All it will take is a little reassurance on your part that he has nothing to fear, that you care for him in turn, and you’ll have this poor man practically crumbling into your awaiting arms as though you’ve slipped the weight of the world from his shoulders. Give him time, hold him for a little longer, and Zevlor will gladly regale you with the feelings he’d intended to leave unsaid for the rest of his days - he’d do anything you’d ask, after all.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

The suit stays on

A/N: What? How’d this happen? I don’t even know. But it did. Here it is. I am back in the Jackman-verse now, voluntarily and irrevocably. I want to thank @stark-ironman for all the thirst trap pictures and encouragement 🩵 Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed the story!

Pairing: Hugh Jackman x F! Reader

Warning: 18+ smut. Minors DNI.

Main Masterlist

.

“Oh no, the suit stays on.”

You had whispered against his ear when he was about to strip; you were at the end of your tether watching him strut his stuff for hours wearing that criminal outfit.

The ache between your legs had got to a point where you’d lost the ability to think straight. It wasn’t like your needs weren’t satiated mere hours ago, wasn’t like you were deprived of that gorgeous body that could only have been chiseled by the Gods, no.

You were well aware of how greedy you were being, but all your sense of rationality had found its way out the door when you’d seen your man walk out in the suit. The little salt and pepper bristle only added his sex appeal, making for additional friction each time it brushed against the most sensitive parts of you.

“Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” He had grunted, wrapping a hand around your throat with enough pressure that it walked a thin line between pleasure and pain. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Only when it comes to you.” You choked, smirking as you were rewarded with everything you had hoped for.

His cock travelled to the deepest parts of you, brushing the very spot that had you seeing stars as your walls clenched around him. Lust travelled over your skin leaving trails of goose-pimples while he impaled you, stoking the fire that burned deep within your core.

You wanted the man. No. You craved him. In every way. How was one ever supposed to get enough of Hugh Jackman?

You certainly weren’t opposed when he pulled out all of a sudden, only to bend you over the nearest desk, uncaring about the mess you’d already made. A primal grunt resounded off the thin walls as he entered your sopping heat again, not holding back at all this time.

With every thrust, you gripped the edge of the table tighter until your knuckles turned white, your climax approaching quick as you felt your thighs begin to twitch involuntarily.

“I—I’m so close—” you whimpered, revelling in the way his hips snapped against yours in an urgency you both felt.

“I know. Be a good girl and come all over this cock.”

Like the most obedient of students, your body willingly obliged to his command, making the coil inside your belly snap into smithereens. Your orgasm crashed over you like a violent wave, making your walls flutter as you cried out his name.

Reality was a mere distant thought as you allowed yourself to float on a cloud of ecstasy, your heart beating erratically against your ribcage and throbbing down there. You faintly registered his cum spilling on your lower back as he climaxed, making the most sinful noises that were music to your ears.

Cleaning up consisted mostly of lazy kisses and a crafty grin that refused to leave your lips. You had gotten your way again and you both knew it would continue in the future.

What do we think? It’s my first time writing for this man. (Will it be the last? Idk yet) ALSO I CAN’T WITH THIS LOOK 🫠

[togrowoldinv]

Home Again

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

When Natasha gets home from a mission she needs reassurance that she can relax and trust herself around you again

Note: Some soft Nat for y’all. Enjoy!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

It’s late in the night when you feel the bed dip next to you. She’s been gone on a mission for almost two months. Now she’s finally home.

“Natasha?” You ask, your voice no louder than a whisper.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she replies. You can hear the exhaustion in her voice. “Go back to sleep. It’s late.”

You roll over and go back to sleep. The next morning when you wake Nat is already up and going. You’re not sure she really ever slept.

After getting dressed, you walk to the kitchen to find her standing at the counter with a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” you greet her. You go to kiss her cheek and she turns her head at the same time so you accidentally kiss her lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Nat says a little shyly.

“That’s alright,” you say with a smile on your face. You kiss her lips properly this time. It’s quick as not to cross any boundaries. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, y/n,” Nat admits.

“How was the mission?” You ask as you pour your own cup of coffee.

Natasha hesitates before answering. You know she doesn’t want to relive it.

“It was okay,” she says. Nat shrugs and sets her coffee on the island. “I think I’m going to go for a run.”

“If you’re sure you’re okay,” you reply.

“Physically, yes I’m okay,” Nat answers. That’s what you needed to know. “I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay, babe. Be safe,” you tell her.

“I always am.”

And with that Natasha is out the door. You’ll give her the space she needs. Sometimes she’s like this after a mission. Things aren’t awkward necessarily but she acts different around you.

You go about your morning activities while Natasha is out running. She runs and runs until she can hardly breathe. The thoughts aren’t as loud when she’s running.

Natasha runs so far that she makes it to town. She sees a familiar bakery and makes a stop inside to get you a treat.

“There she is!” The owner says as Natasha walks through the door. You two frequent the place often. He knows you well. “We’ve missed you!”

“Hey, it’s good to see you,” Nat replies. “Can I get two of y/n’s usual?”

“Of course,” the man replies. He bags it up and hands it to Nat. She reaches for her wallet but he holds up his hand to stop her. “It’s on us. Welcome back, Ms. Romanoff.”

She thanks him and leaves the bakery. On her way back, she tries to work through some more difficult memories of the mission. Her motivation is to get back home to you.

It always is.

Natasha opens the door to your home again and finds you in your office. She knocks softly on the door. You jump out of your chair.

“I’m sorry!” She rushes out.

“It’s okay,” you assure her. “Just not used to you being back.”

Nat nods in understanding. She holds out the bag from the bakery. This time you jump out of your chair voluntarily.

“Is that what I think it is?” You ask her.

“It’s double what you think it is,” Nat replies. She hands you the bag.

“Come share it with me,” you say, gesturing to your desk.

Nat sits on the edge of the desk across from where you sit in your chair. The sweets are too much for her taste really, but she indulges and eats half of one.

“What did you do while I was gone?” Natasha asks, trying to get a conversation going.

“Well, let’s see. I worked, worked some more, watched tv, and spent some time with friends and family,” you tell her.

“That sounds nice,” Nat says.

“It was okay. I missed you more than anything,” you say.

“This time was hard for me too.”

“I know,” you say. “Do you want to-“

You stop talking and simply gesture for her to sit on your lap. It’s something she used to do without your insistence, but her boundaries are different after every mission.

Natasha nods and slowly straddles your legs with hers. Her body falls against yours. You allow her to make the next move.

You breathe a sigh of relief when Natasha wraps her arms around your waist and buries herself into you. Hugging her back, you hold her as close as you can.

"I’m here, baby,” you say softly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

You feel tears on your neck as Natasha cries. You’ve only seen this happen a few times. As hard as it is to see it, the level of trust she has for you makes your heart swell. Not many people have seen this woman cry.

Natasha doesn’t move an inch for over an hour. You hold her for as long as she needs. When she pulls away, she looks into your eyes to see nothing but kindness.

“I’m sorry about this,” Natasha says.

“Hey, no don’t,” you say. “I’m here for you. Always.”

She feels her hands twitch as if she has to touch you, but she doesn’t know if she should. Those hands have caused pain and suffering. You see her internal dilemma.

“You can’t hurt me, Natasha,” you tell her. Her eyes widen a bit. How did you know what she was thinking?

“But I could,” she argues.

“But you won’t,” you reply.

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re you, baby. You’ve always been so gentle with me. These hands,” you begin, taking her hands in yours. “Have only served as a way to make me feel good. To make me happy. To make me fall in love with you even more. I trust you. You know I do.”

“I’ve just caused so much pain and suffering,” Natasha says.

“But oh so much more safety and calm,” you remind her. “I’m not afraid of you. I never have been.”

Natasha moves her hands to each side of your face. When you don’t flinch, she sees the truth of your words. She leans forward tentatively. You wait for her to kiss you.

When she does, it’s the most gentle kiss you’ve ever shared. A ghostly touch on your lips that lingers once she’s pulled away.

“I love you,” Natasha says. “I know I have a hard time saying it, but it’s how I always feel.”

“I love you too, Natasha. And you show me how you love me all of the time. You don’t need to say it for me to know it. I promise,” you tell her.

Natasha smiles softly and presses her head to your shoulder. You kiss her temple and rub her back softly.

“I should probably go so you can work,” Natasha mumbles.

“Stay with me?” You ask her.

“Okay,” Natasha replies.

She stays in your arms and even falls asleep after a while. You spend the entire day reassuring Natasha that everything is okay.

You’re so glad she’s home. And she knows she’s going to be okay as long as she’s with you.

[daddy-kinard]

Nobody actually asked for my bucktommy/tommy headcanons, but instead of feeling left out I’m just gonna share some anyway…

1. Tommy came to reading books later in life. Like he read for school but never voluntarily and then he was a Movie Guy, like to the point that it was deliberately part of his personality. But then he started reading a couple of autobiographies maybe, on his days off, and realised that they take a lot longer to get through than movies and when his head was all messed up and looking for distraction maybe that was a good thing. He moved on to fiction, starting with the book versions of some of his most worn dvds, and now he has a pretty healthily stocked bookshelf.

2. Their first I Love You’s are both completely mundane, thrown into everyday conversation. No big planned speeches or grand declarations, just truths that spill out on a random Tuesday morning because it feels like they should have been said 100 times already.

3. Tommy’s first tattoo is the coordinates of harbour station. It’s where he was first able to grow into himself, and it’s where he met Evan, so he figured it’s saved him twice over now, really.

4. Tommy only has a couple of fancy suits that aren’t his LAFD dress uniform. Sure, he has nice shirts for date nights, but not full suits for formal occasions, and when Buck rips half the buttons off one of his smart shirts in his haste to get Tommy naked, when they get back from one event that had dragged on way too long, he’s finally persuaded to go suit shopping together. He rolls his eyes the whole time about just how much fun Buck is having blatantly ogling him, but it’s also the first time Tommy overhears Buck introduce him to a complete stranger as “my boyfriend, Tommy” and the shirt and tie he’s trying on feel suddenly tight across the balloon of joy that’s just expanded in his chest.

5. Despite Tommy’s “I could teach you” and Buck’s genuine willingness to learn Tommy’s hobbies, they actually have more success learning new things together - not entirely due to Buck’s competency kink when it comes to Tommy, so blatant it’s probably visible from space, rendering most of Tommy’s lessons unproductive pretty quickly.

[st-just]

Our patients are here voluntarily. Of course, if they try to leave, we’ll force them to stay. But knowing this fact, they chose to stay of their own free will. Be sure to remind them of this regularly. You can only keep someone involuntarily for three days, but you can keep someone “voluntarily, but if they try to leave they’ll be stuck here for three days and if they go along with it they might get to leave sooner” for as long as you like. We’ll let our patients go when they aren’t depressed (or manic, or psychotic). Of course, they are depressed, because we spent all this effort making the environment depressing, and it doesn’t do much for mania or psychosis either. They only get to leave when they successfully keep up the facade that they are happy, the environment helped, they’re so grateful to all of the staff, and the group therapy gave them a bunch of important insights that they can’t wait to apply to their lives. We have other incentives, of course—restraint, forcible drugging—but dangling the chance to leave in front of them is the most powerful of them all. Sad people usually feel better when they get to cry it out or seek comfort. Depressed people generally have distorted thoughts, and one purpose of therapy is to help them figure out a more accurate view of the world. We remove all these options. Instead, we force a level of self-monitoring on them more typical of spies and courtiers of the more dysfunctional Chinese emperors. No matter how miserable they are, they must smile. If they want to stop being jailed, they must thank their jailers, sincerity in their voices and their eyes.

-Ozy Brennan, On Mental Hospitals

[whalesforhands]

kaizen daycare! 1

summary: you love taking care of such adorable children, and they love you in return. however, it seems that you’ve garnered more than just the attention of some cute kids.

previous masterlist next

You rejected him again.

“So how about tomorrow? I’ll come pick you up for dinner at my place?” His genteel smile, his captivating eyes, black hair draping over his shoulders as he’s leaning down slightly to stand before you, his three children long strapped into their seats within his car to ensure that they don’t overhear his conversation.

(Note that they could still very much see him, twins practically clambering over Megumi to get a better view of you two through the car window.)

Your pretty eyes are shifty, averting away from him as you scratch at your cheek. “Mmm, I’m afraid I won’t be available tomorrow, Geto-san.”

He’s already deflating, a barely put-together smile starting to give way to a frown as he nearly fails to hide his disappointment. He shouldn’t push you for a reason, right?

(Right…?)

“Ahh, I see. I suppose we could plan for another day, then.” He’s not going to hound you for an answer if you won’t tell him voluntarily.

“I’m really thankful for the invitation though, I’m sure you and your husband make great food!” A cute grin overtakes your face as your eyes turn into adorable crescents, a hand placed on your cheek. “I surely wouldn’t mind getting to eat the extra cookies you bake all the time.”

His heart melts. You’re forgiven.

Geto Suguru wants to slam his head into the steering wheel. Cookies, cookies— They were just made as an excuse to give way to longer conversations with you—!

“Papa, are you okay?” Mimiko’s shy voice is heard along the ride home, the passing streetlamps giving a warm glow to the interior of the car in contrast to the otherwise darkened, gloomy atmosphere of their father.

“Papa is… Just fine…” If getting rejected by someone as lovely as you 6 times in a row is considered fine, anyway. “Thank you for asking, dear.” He’s basically sulking as his eyes are kept on the road, a deep sigh leaving him as he turns a corner.

Eh? Mimiko really doesn’t think he’s fine at all. Did something upset him today?

“Oh, oh! Nanako knows why, Mimi!” The excited blonde is jumping in her seat as she raises an arm in the air, as if waiting to be called upon. “Gumi and I figured it out wayyyyy fast!”

“It wasn’t hard.” Megumi is almost looking triumphant, cute, chubby arms crossed and proud.

“…Is that so, sweethearts?” Suguru’s eyes flicker to the rear view mirror, amethyst purple meeting overjoyed brown and blank green that nods at his sister’s antics. “Care to tell what you think is making Papa sad?”

(There’s no way they figured it out, right? They may be his kids, but still…)

“Cause…” A contemplative finger on her lip as she lets the tension of unknowing rise for dramatic effect, an innocent grin on her cute face. “Cause Daddy and Papa are hopeless at getting (name)-sensei’s attention!”

Geto Suguru really wants to slam his head into the steering wheel now.

——

“AHAHAH!” There’s a loud laughter about the room now that Gojo Satoru has appeared, bathrobe around his form and towel in his hair as he kicks his feet into the air whilst laying down, held within Suguru’s embrace as he holds his stomach.

“Can’t— Hahah!” He’s struggling to breathe, a deep intaking of air as he gasps. “Pfft, believe how that sensei is so~ oblivious.” He wipes a tear from his eye, his voice finally finding itself as he rolls onto his side to face his pouty husband.

“Aren’t you laughing a little too much, Satoru?” The red on Suguru’s cheeks is very apparent as the shame manifests itself on his face. How many failures does he need? Geto Suguru was so sure that you had liked them, would even go as far as believing that you definitely had the hots for them.

(Because, who wouldn’t?)

“Aww, is wittle Suguwu hwurt?” An arm props his head up to better see his the blushing red of his husband. “Want a wittle kissy? Satoru will indulge you— OW!” He feels himself lose balance before his back his flat against the bed, an unimpressed Suguru atop of him.

Narrowed purple and playful blue meet as the black-haired male continues to straddle him. “Not the point, Satoru.” A pat to the smiling man’s cheek. “We haven’t made progress at all—“

“Don’t worry your pretty head off about our adorable teacher.” A smirk as Geto feels a hand trail up his thigh, exceeding close to the boxers he donned for bed.

“I got just the plan.” A wink as he grabs his waist, using his body weight to roll them over so that he would be the one on top, a loving hand stroking Suguru’s cheek.

“And I’m certain it’ll work this time~”

——

“Good morning… You’re awfully early today, Gojo-san…” A yawn escapes your lips as you hold a still sleeping Nanako in your arms, cradling her close and stroking her head as Gojo held the other two.

(You look awfully domestic. It makes his heart all the more softer at the sight.)

“And I’m sorry for that, sweet thing.” He adjusts a stirring Mimiko in his hold. “The family’s been too busy with our move lately, ya know? Gotta drop them off early to get the rest of the boxes.” His grin is ever bright as he follows you into the daycare, his footsteps light and his body close as they tested the limits of your boundaries.

(Truth was, he didn’t even need to move any boxes or anything. He just wanted to see you.)

“You must be working very hard, Gojo-san.” You hum quietly as you reach the nap area, the nightlights on and encompassing the room with their comfy glow as you gently kneel down to place a still sleeping Nanako onto a mattress, the man’s shoulder grazing yours as he placed the rest of his kids together.

“I think the change of pace is worth it. The relocation is gonna be a benefit to all of us.”

(My, is the new home that good?)

“It must be exhausting having to move houses, though.” You take this chance to poke at one of the mochi-like cheeks of Megumi, watching as his little nose twitches. “I hope you’re letting them get enough rest, Gojo-san.”

“Oho, plenty!” A glimmer of his teeth as you catch his bright smile. “You could even say they’re so excited, they can barely sleep thinking about yo— It.”

You’re humming as you follow-up with the light chatter, just happy to be able to have such light-hearted conversation with the man, ignoring how his fingers brushed against your own when you both reached for the blanket at the same time.

(This isn’t the time to think about such things! And he’s married!)

Unlike his husband, Gojo Satoru always seemed so hard to read, so hard to approach even after you’ve seen the softer, sweeter sides of him.

He was simply… Intimidating in his own right.

There is an odd, palpable air inbetween the two of you as the silence starts to drag, a gaze that’s seemingly stuck on you that hints and twinges between the line of unsettling. Hmm… You must be kind of tired today.

“Say, Gojo-san.” You’re getting up, patting off your apron and the almost scary tension as you lead him out the nap room. “Is your place near this area? I’ll be happy to help you find your way around.” Your back is turned to him as you gently close the door.

(You turn around only to meet the same intense blue, looking like they were glaring into your very being.)

“Well, we just moved into the apartment complex not far from here.” He takes a pause to tuck a loose strand of your hair back that your drowsy form fails to take note of. “I think it was—” His intense eyes glance downwards meet your dazed own, playful and prodding blue to the innocently awaiting you.

(So cute.)

“Akutami Estate.”

Your once sleepy self perks up at that mention, certainly recognizing that name.

“What a coincidence, Gojo-san! I happen to live within that building too!”

“That so? My, what a coincidence indeed.” His returning grin is bright, but his eyes are hard to read considering the sunglasses that had been slid back in place to hide them from your view.

“So, how about a little housewarming dinner tonight? My place, of course.”

There’s no way you can refuse now, right?

previous masterlist next

Notes:

“Shokoooooo…!” You’re whining as you sat on her chair, making grabby hands for her whilst slumped into the plush seat.

“You’re awfully needy today. What’s the matter?” She’s patting your head as you suddenly lean forward to wrap your arms around her hips, your face dug into her side as you muffled incoherent words into her doctor’s coat.

“What? Don’t speak with my clothes in your mouth.”

You pull away, pouting up at her with what looked like glossed over eyes. “I think I just doomed myself…”

“Huh?”

[aceredshirt13]

Having read a fair amount of Poirot as of late (the first two novels and most of the short stories in Poirot Investigates), the thing I’ve overwhelmingly come away with is that Poirot and Hastings both are and aren’t what pop culture would have you think that Holmes and Watson are like.

Poirot is outwardly conceited, thinking the best of his own abilities while deriding those of the people around him. Hastings especially falls victim to this, being teased for “not seeing” and manipulated more than once as Poirot withholds the facts, and being resentful of Poirot’s arrogance while also being unduly arrogant himself - nearly every single one of his own proud deductions turns out to be intensely wrong, and he is also prone to foolish or reckless acts in the name of trying to score one off Poirot. Holmes and Watson, on the other hand, certainly have their faults, but their relationship is not so tempestuous, and Holmes is kinder and Watson less foolish than is often presumed by those who have not read the canon. Holmes, while possessed of some immodesty, never flaunts his intelligence so dramatically as Poirot does, and Watson is largely faithful and amazed by Holmes’s deductive capacity, and though occasionally annoyed is almost never resentful.

However, what I like about Poirot and Hastings is the way in which they aren’t like Holmes and Watson as painted with the pop cultural brush - namely that, like the original Holmes and Watson, Poirot and Hastings are unquestionably fond of each other. Their tiffs and petty spats are always contrasted with their affection, if not shot through with it in the first place. Poirot may speak ill of Hastings’s intelligence, but it is shown multiple times that he does not genuinely want to hurt his feelings, and he always asks Hastings to come with him on his cases - not because Hastings always provides any material aid, but because Hastings is his friend. Hastings may tease Poirot and think condescendingly of his mannerisms, but his laughter is always fond, and he admires him and desires his praise and respect just as much as he worries for him and wants to help him in potential times of need. Most importantly, despite their arguments and many differences (age, culture, temperament, just to name a few) they remain steadfastly together (with many year living voluntarily under the same roof!) and ultimately both wish and facilitate each other’s happiness.

They are more difficult than their Doyle-penned forbears, but for that there is no less love.

[wishuroses]

.⠀ ݁ ⸜⸜ 𓂃 𓇼 neteyam as your boyfriend.

✶ pairings: neteyam x metkayina!reader

✶ warnings: fluff obviously, strangers to friends to lovers, established relationship, gross couple-y stuff (kissing, hugging, all that good stuff), neteyam being a lovesick sap, uppercase intended!

✶ a/n: a little something i decided to whip up while i wait for this thunderstorm to pass. sorry if you see any errors 🤭.. happy reading! :-)

The two of you met on the day the Sully family came to Awa’atlu, walking towards the newcomers with your best friend, Tsireya, the both of you attached to the hip.

The same way Tsireya and Lo’ak locked eyes, you and Neteyam couldn’t look away from each other, unabashedly so.

The attention made you flush and dip your chin down to avoid his stare, but even then you could still feel his gaze burning into your head.

At first, you two had been talking as friends (as most people would), instructing his breathing lessons and teaching him how to ride an ilu properly, making lighthearted jokes, and the loose side hugs as a way to part.

Gradually, the light touches and gazes became more intense, gaining more meaning to them. His touch, no matter where it was, left a hot trail in its wake, making you shy away from it with a bashful smile on your face.

You tried your best to reciprocate: placing your hand on his lower back whenever you’re next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder, holding eye contact longer than you usually would.

It was way out of your comfort zone, but you eventually had to break out of your shell sooner or later. Little did you know, they all made his heart flutter and breath hitch.

And with some heartfelt (more sarcastic coming from Kiri) advice you’ve both received from Tsireya and Kiri, you eventually got together.

Neteyam is, by definition, a textbook gentleman: voluntarily getting things for you, offering to hold items even if they aren’t remotely heavy in any way, walking you to your home before eclipse, holding down branches and leaves that threaten to smack you in the face, etc.

His love languages are all of the above, more leaning towards acts of service. He’d be willing to do anything for you. But! He’s very touchy touchy, despite not looking like the type.

He’s such a sweetheart, so sweet it brings you to tears. Sometimes, you catch yourself wondering how you managed to become the center of his affections, but he’s quick to shoot down any sort of doubt you have.

Kisses, kisses, and more kisses. His kisses are so nice and you can feel how much he loves you.

Neck kisses, he goes nuts with those. Especially the ones between the skin of your ear and jawline! They get you every time.

Has an amazing way with his words, so good that you wonder where he was taught how to be that smooth. But the voice in the back of your head tells you it was Jake.

He thought you were the most beautiful na’vi he’d ever laid eyes on, and told you personally ‘You have beauty that even Eywa herself would envy’.

You cried that day. Nearly toppled over, even.

His hugs are very tight, but not uncomfortably tight, just very firm and protective. Let’s you know he’s present and here with you, mentally and physically.

If you’re shorter than him, then his arms will wrap around your shoulders and drape along your back, holding you close. If you’re taller, then his arms will be around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

Back hugs are his usual go-to though! He also rubs your waist and massages circles into your hip bones.

He smells so.. Neteyam. You can’t even describe what the scent is, but it’s earthy and nostalgic in a way, and makes you never want to move away from him.

You make each other woven bracelets, anklets, and chokers. Both wearing them with pride.

Neteyam can’t ever keep his hands off you, he has to put his hand on your knee/thigh, a hand on your lower back, or his arm just straight up around your waist. It’s more so for the peace of his mind– to let him know you’re here– but he knows it makes you flustered and he’d do anything to see how cute you look embarrassed.

Calls you sweetheart, my love, my heart!

Definitely does that thing where he holds your hand and rubs his thumb into your knuckles. You do it to him too!

Melts into a puddle whenever you lay his head in your lap and run your nimble fingers through his braids. He falls asleep sometimes too!

He’s very dominant, but in a nonsexual way.

Despite this, please tell this boy how much you love and cherish him. Take care of him lots! He’s been burdened with a multitude of duties, and needs to unwind or else he’ll lose his mind.

Overall a lovely boy, give him a chance, yeah?

[scoobydoodean]

Fascinating how every gifset of this moment I’ve stumbled across so far tonight omits the dialogue right before this... how convenient.

When they popped back into their own universe, Sam and Dean find out they never had the key to the weapons Cas and Balthazar were stockpiling to begin with. Balthazar actually just used them as bait to keep Virigil and Raphael off his tail.

With no explanation, Balthazar used Sam and Dean as sticks for two homicidal maniacs. He didn’t respect them enough to explain and truly include them and he certainly didn’t want them to have a choice in acting as bait. A marmoset is a type of monkey, which recalls Uriel’s language when speaking of humans—how they are dirty, disgusting creatures who are beneath him. The same type of thinking ensured the lower angels compliance with the apocalypse. The same thinking also drives this attempt to start a second one. That isn’t lost on Sam and Dean, and they also have every right to feel used. If Cas had needed help, they would have agreed voluntarily. Dean already asked Cas to contact him if he needed help in 5.10. They already defended the key with their lives to protect Cas when they thought the key was real. Balthazar’s slight of hand was cruel and unnecessary, and it was rooted in a complete lack of regard for Sam and Dean as people. Because that’s how Balthazar thinks. This is the same guy that manipulated a grieving child into selling his soul in the episode where he was introduced. Because humans mean nothing. They’re only tools for angels to wield. Vessels. Primates.

And what does Cas say?

“It was Balthazar’s plan” - Blame shifting. It isn’t Cas’s fault that he went along with it. This was Balthazar’s idea. He can’t be held complicit in his own choice to agree to use his friends instead of simply asking and including them… right?

“I would have done the same thing” - I would have tricked you too and used you instead of just including you and telling you the truth. You don’t deserve to be included. But if I have a use for you, you’ll serve it.

So Dean says,

Misdirection. Dean isn’t denying the stakes. He’s reacting to being used like a dancing monkey instead of treated as a friend and afforded at least the basic curtesy of knowing his friend wants to put his life at risk as a decoy. The brothers could have gotten killed trying to get back the key from Virgil that at the end of the day, didn’t mean anything. If Cas had only asked, they would have assisted him willingly!!! Because they already did that for the fake key.

They understood the stakes (as much as Cas himself will tell them), but Cas tries to pretend they don’t. He completely mischaracterizes the reasons Dean is upset and feels used, when Dean is quite clear: “That’s about all you’ve told us!” He’s asking to be included, but Cas won’t include him. It also clearly isn’t because he’s trying to protect them. He just used them as bait to distract Raphael and Virgil.

But he won’t explain. Because he’s decided he knows best and Sam and Dean aren’t allowed to know the truth.