#essential oil man been on my brain

[snowy-bones]

it’s been a hot minute since i’ve doodled the essential oil man hhhh

[shycoconutt]

Life changed a lot after Nanami Kento came into it.

Nights alone in your apartment feasting on cup ramen with microwaved broccoli (for your health obviously), turned into homemade dinners under candlelight. The long ride to work in the back of an Uber turned into riding in the passenger seat of Nanami’s luxury car, hands intertwined over the middle console. Quick showers turned into long, steaming baths with essential oils. Winding down from a long day turned from nights out at the bar to nights in under the covers while he softly reads to you.

“Darling, hey, wake up,” you hear Nanami whisper in your ear as you feel your shoulders shake lightly. You groan in protest, not wanting to be broken away from the warmth and smell of him all around you.

“I know, I know,” he softly chuckles, “but we need to get ready for bed properly.”

You nuzzle into his side more and wrap your arms around him. Squeezing him slightly, you take one long, dramatic inhale of his scent in the crook of his neck, fluttering your eyelashes to give him butterfly kisses.

“What are you doing?,” he laughs, “It tickles!”

“Just taking some for the road,” you smile into his skin.

“You’re such a dork.”

With Nanami, everything always seems to be taken care of. There is no need to over-extend your brain power, because once a thought or worry passes through, you know it’s been meticulously mulled over by your other half.

Your appointments are scheduled and on the calendar. Your laundry is clean and neatly put away in the proper place. Your memories and photos are filed and categorized, with some of your favorites even framed and displayed in your home and offices. Your books, CDs and other media are sorted alphabetically in pristine condition.

“But wouldn’t it be cool if they were categorized by, I dunno, color? We could make a rainbow wall!” you suggest as you marvel at his work.

Nanami, who is currently kneeling on the floor putting the last of your books on the shelf, turns and gives you a disapproving glare, “Absolutely not. It would be a disservice to your collection.”

“A disservice to my collection?”

“What happens when a series contains books of all different colored covers? Am I supposed to just separate them?”

You blink.

“You’re right. I apologize for even suggesting something so foul.”

But, most importantly, over everything, your body, mind, and soul are finally at ease. Past anxieties rarely present themselves anymore, and, if they do, you never dwell. People say you’re glowing, and they aren’t wrong. Your skin is clear, your hair is shiny and smooth. Your favorite clothes fit a little better, and your shoes are always polished to look brand new.

“Nananmi Kento looks good on you, girl,” Shoko muses, watching you over her lunch in the breakroom.

You smirk, daring not to look across the table to conserve your blush, “Feels good too.”

“Gross!” 

You curl over in laughter as Shoko chucks a strawberry at your head.

All this and more, because Nanami cares, protects, cherishes, and respects you. He would never, ever in a million years try to hurt you in any way. He is honest and loyal, vowed by his duty to be a man. Ever since he was young, he put immense thought into its meaning, only to be confirmed by one look at you.

One look and he knew that you were the one he would spend the rest of his life with.

“I think I should take you out on a date, if you don’t mind of course,” Nanami stutters, gently pulling you aside after one of your meetings.

“You think we should date?” you question, head reeling.

“Yes,” he starts, “I think we’ve been friends for long enough and it’s time to move forward with our relationship.”

The disbelief you feel must be painted on your face because Nanami’s normally pale skin is flushed cherry red just looking at you.

“I mean, long term,” he’s babbling now, “I want to make you my wife. Well, I wanted you to be my wife from the beginning, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, but they always say the best relationships start from friendships, so I thought it would be best to take our time. Naturally, now is as good a time as any. We’re at good places in our careers, we already spend a lot of time together, our personalities mesh, and, I don’t mean to be coarse, but I think we’d look pretty good tog-"

Before your mind has a chance to catch up, you’re already cutting him off with a passionate kiss, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him down close to you. After a beat, you feel Nanami’s broad, warm hands grab hold around your waist, pulling you to him. 

His lips feel so soft, and more plush than you anticipated. You part yours slightly in an invitation, and he’s quick to swipe his tongue against your bottom lip. You reciprocate and smile when you feel the vibrations of a small moan escape him.

You break the kiss first.

“I’d marry you yesterday if I could, Kento.”

Where he ebbs, you flow. With the few traits he lacks, you flourish. In social settings, you pick up when he doesn’t have the bandwidth to keep going. You can read his mind from his body language alone. You've shown him how to aim for the ideal, even when his pragmatic nature leads the way. You’ve taught him to slow down, even when life is relentlessly shoving him along.

“Kento, are you- are you crying?” you question in shock.

It’s difficult to process the information in front of you. You’re not seeing things, right? That’s definitely a tear falling down his cheek. Quickly, you bring your thumb to his face, swiping it away.

Catching your wrist, he brings your pulse point to his lips, giving you a small kiss there.

Here, feet in the white sand of the island of Redang, under the dark, starry sky, Kento goes down to kneel before you.

Recognizing the gesture, your heart swells and all the air leaves your lungs. Both your hands immediately cover your mouth, and the burn of tears forming ignites behind your eyes.

Through the blur, you see him smile. 

Regaining composure over your senses, you remind yourself to take everything in. The way his honey-brown eyes reflect the lights in the distance, the way his open collar ruffles in the breeze, the appearance of the new freckles from the Malaysian sun that decorate his exposed chest, how his unstyled, blonde hair moves freely, how one of his hands takes both of your own, while the other holds out a breathtakingly beautiful solitaire diamond ring.

Your eyes take him all in and land back on his face, one that displays the most loving, adoring expression you’ve ever received. 

“When you came into my life, everything changed. I knew, from that point forward, I would dedicate my existence to ensuring your happiness. Nothing matters to me more than seeing you smile. It gives me purpose—fills the air in my lungs. I have never, and will never need anything more.”

You watch the tears cascade down his cheeks, mirroring your own.

“Please do me the honor of marrying me and making you my wife.”

One second passes, and you squeal, “Yes!”

a/n: This was supposed to be smutty and turned into something fluffy. I can't help it! I just adore him so much. also, how do we feel about this format? I've never done something like this before!

[angeldreamsoffanfic]

“So how did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Y’know, how did you know.”

“Dingus, I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me here, the Russians did a number on how many of my braincells are actually working.”

“How did you know that you liked girls?”

Robin Buckley immediately pushed herself up so she was resting on her elbows, head tilted to catch Steve Harrington’s eyes in the low light of their hospital room.

They weren’t originally even going to go to the hospital, if Robin was being honest. They had just wanted to slip away back to their respective homes, but then Melissa and Richard Buckley caught wind that Robin was hurt. Then the both of them realized that Steve’s parents (if Robin has to use that term to describe them) had less than zero intention of sending anyone to pick up Steve.

Then EMS made the light suggestion of both of them probably needing to go to Hawkins General Hospital… and well, while Melissa and Richard did tend to lead toward more natural remedies… one couldn’t fix a concussion or a drugging with an unknown substance with essential oils and hope.

“Robbie? Did you OD over there?” Steve had himself up on his elbows, easily mimicking Robin. That’s the thing that makes the inside of Robin ache, that he’s so like her. She knows that she’s an only child, knows that, but sometimes Steve’ll just… do something and it makes her question it. Makes her wonder how she spent so long without him, without another brain and two legs and arms and so much hair. “Robbie?”

“No, I am still alive.” Robin slowly spoke, before she let out a soft sigh. “Why do you ask?”

“Like-” Steve huffed as he shook his head from side to side, before he used the one hand that was free from the pulse monitor and saline drip to card through his hair. It’s sleep ruffled, and if he uses product (Robin is sure he does), it’s for sure gone. Steve looks up though, and his eyes are so earnest that it causes something to hurt inside of Robin. “never mind just ignore- fuck - just ignore me.”

“I couldn’t ignore you if I tried, you idiot.” Robin let out a huff, and she winced as the PICC line in her arm shifted as tilted to be able to fully face Steve on her side. “But I just, dingus, this is out of left field for even you.”

“How so?”

“Did you even know that, that people like me even existed until a couple of hours ago?” Robin kept her voice soft, especially as Steve huffed out an indignant sounding sigh. Robin sighs though, and then she cards her own hand through her hair, and forges onward. “I think I’ve just… always known.”

“Always?”

“Yeah like-” Robin shrugged, a careful movement of her shoulders. “When I was like, eight? My uh, parents sent me to this camp thing- like summer camp kind of like what Dustin went to? But with, y’know, with the swimming and archery and dude I was fucking awful at it.” Steve let out a soft and watery laugh at Robin’s rambling, and that gave Robin enough power to continue. “But we uh, had these like songs we had to learn? And there was this uh, girl counselor there that had to teach me because you know, that was her job.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and uh. She couldn’t have been older than I am now but man…” Robin let out a slow whistle, and allowed herself to fully melt into the hospital cot she’s laid up on. “All I could think was that I just wanted to be with her. Like not even kissing because I thought kissing was gross then, still do now kinda but anyway- I wanted to like, hold her hand and shit. Do the cheesy stuff I’d seen in the movies, y’know?”

Steve huffed out his own laugh, and he tilted his head to lean against his pillows instead of facing Robin. Robin watched though, quiet for once, as Steve swallowed once and then twice- before he cleared his throat.

“I knew it existed before you.”

“What?”

“It.”

“Dingus-”

“Girls liking girls.” Steve’s voice is barely above a whisper, even as Robin can hear him gulp in a lungful of air. “And boys liking boys.”

“You did?” Robin kept her voice quiet, gentle, as coaxing as she could- especially when she could see Steve’s throat bob. “Dingus?”

“I…” Steve doesn’t continue, and that’s enough.

Enough to Robin that she pushed herself up, and ignored the pain that ricocheted down her spine like needles. Ignored Steve’s hurried ‘what are-’, as she stumbled out of her hospital bed and right to Steve’s. She made sure to drag her IV pole and the monitor with her, situating it as best as she could next to Steve’s. Robin huffed quietly as the pain trickled down her spine, and she couldn’t help but smile as Steve curled his hand carefully around her wrist and tugged.

Robin got comfortable, let Steve fret over her as best as he could, his fingers only ever-so slightly trembling as he made sure that the line in her arm wasn’t kinked up. They were pressed close, side to side and hip to hip, and Robin tilted her head down until it was rested on Steve’s shoulder.

“Wanna keep going, Stevie?”

“No.”

“But?”

“I…” Steve huffed again, a small indignant noise that Robin mimicked.

They sat like that then, just the two of them for a moment, before Steve continued slowly.

“I’ve never, told anyone this- like I’ve told Tommy H. so much shit about me - but this is… Robin this is different.” Steve speaks in a hurried and stilted way, like he’s stringing together bits and pieces of sentences, and it shouldn’t work.

But it does because he’s Steve and she’s Robin.

And truthfully, Robin likes that. That they’re Steve and Robin. SteveandRobin. RobinandSteve. Likes that the two of them are so in tune that even her own mother didn’t want to separate them.

That had to mean something in the end, didn’t it?

“Tell me, whatever… whenever.” Robin murmured as she turned her head so she could press a soft kiss to Steve’s shoulder. The hospital gown is thin enough she can feel the heat of his skin from up under it, and that’s grounding. Grounding even as Steve drew in a shaky breath, audibly swallowing again. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”

“I didn’t uh, notice Tammy in Ms. Click’s class or uh, you for a reason.” Steve slowly spoke, eyes wet, and Robin can hear his sniffle as he tried to reign his emotions back. “Ms. Click made him sit uh, right by her desk at the front of the room.”

And oh.

Oh.

If that doesn’t immediately settle something that just usually writhes around in Robin’s chest.

“Him?” Robin is gentle, gentler than she thinks she’s ever been.

“Uh, yeah… Eddie Munson?” Steve huffed out an almost dry laugh, the only thing that he does that ever remotely reminds her of his time as his high school “King Steve” persona. “He uh, got this bat tattoo right before that year’s Thanksgiving break and all I could do was just… gawk at him.”

“And then what?” Robin knew she was pushing, searching for information, but she can’t help it. Not when Steve is right next to her, hip to hip and thigh to thigh. Not when he’s like her. In all the ways that matter.

“I went home and screamed into my pillow.”

Robin immediately smacked Steve’s thigh with the knuckles of her left hand- grinning in triumph when Steve let out a squawk of laughter.

“Eddie Munson?”

“What about him?”

“He’s… he’s a total dud!”

“No he’s not!”

“He stepped in my mashed potatoes once! That is totally total dud material!”

“No way!”

“He wants to be like, like a metal singer!”

“He has a band! Dreams!”

“Do you even know if he can hold a tune?”

“Well, no-”

“Total. Dud.”

Robin grinned wide as Steve launched into a very quick defense about Eddie, and she decides then and there that Steve and her? They’ll be just fine.

Especially if she can get Eddie to come into Steve and her’s orbit just a bit, to see if the crush is still there.

Because while Robin may not have all of the gay knowledge in the world, there is one thing for a complete certainty that she knows.

The black hanky that Eddie kept in his pocket?

Well…

Robin chuffed to herself, before she tilted so she could lay on her side- nose tucked into the place where Steve’s neck and shoulder met.

Right before she falls asleep though, Robin does a very important thing on a mental whiteboard.

You Rule: 1

You Suck: 0

hope you all enjoyed! truthfully think this is one of my favorite things i have written. love platonic stobin. <3

[blouisparadise]

Today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Louis and/or Harry have popular jobs such as firefighter, flight attendance, florist, and mechanic. Since we get requests for rec lists with these particular jobs often, we decided to compile them into one list. We're marked each fic according to which job it features. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog the post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) December | Not Rated | 1,924 words | 💐

Magic happens here, in December.

2) Pilot | Teen & Up | 5,279 words | ✈️

“We have fifteen minutes.” Harry glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “How fast do you think my tongue can make you come?” Still against the wall, Louis felt a shiver run from the back of his neck down his spine. In three years walking on moving planes, he’d never had such zero control over his legs. At least not until now.

3) Your Apathy’s Like A Wound In Salt | Explicit | 5,312 words | 🛠️

“What a fucking ass!” Louis shifts his body so he’s completely facing away from the scene. “I asked him last night to fix my car and he said he would accept a payment in the form of me sucking his dick. I guess he’s really desperate, I can’t believe him.” Louis rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink in one go. Niall shakes his head and shrugs, “I told you to ask any other mechanic in town but you didn’t listen to me.” “Well, I didn’t think he would fucking say that now did I, Niall?” “Louis,” Paige rests a manicured hand on his shoulder, “So, you’re saying you still wouldn’t hit it?” “My ex?” She nods. “Yeah, I’d still hit that. Except this time it would be with a car or a baseball bat.” Suddenly, Niall spits out his beer all over the table as Paige bursts out laughing. “Fucking ruthless, you are.” Niall runs a hand through his styled hair.

4) Oil and Lube | Explicit | 5,552 words | 🛠️

The one where Harry's a car mechanic and Louis' engine can't seem to stop revving around him.

5) A Place To Call Home | Mature | 8,113 words | 💐

The thing is, he’s pretty sure he’s found home in a person in his life, someone who’s been essential in everything he’s done since he was seven years old. Through every broken bone, through every breakup, through every failure; through every triumph, personal and professional, and every goal he has scored in his time in Man U, there’s been someone there for it all.  That’s his best mate. Harry. A twenty-two year old with the kindest heart known to man, a slow drawl that is entirely too endearing, with the dreams to open up his own flower shop. A quiet and earnest boy with those he doesn’t know, and open and honest and absolutely lovely with those he loves.  It all hits him, really, the night of their final game of the Premier League. Again, timing is not his forté. They’re gearing up, ready to hit the field for the second half against Liverpool that determines their ranking in the League, when his brain decides to come online (after seventeen years, apparently), and conveniently supply him with the revelation that oh yeah, you’re kind of in love with your best friend.

6) If This Room Was Burning | Explicit | 8,629 words | 🔥

Where Louis’ cat gets stuck on the roof and Harry is the firefighter who ends up saving her.

7) Decorated Emergency | Not Rated | 10,359 words | 🔥

So what if they kissed once. It was the end of a shift that had seemed to drag on for twelve days instead of twelve hours. Their doctor was slow and felt the need to transfer every single patient, putting more work on every member of staff. Harry was stressed. Louis was the one who crowded him up against the door in the break room. It was Louis' fault, he was always pulling shit.

8) Taking The Long Way Home | Mature | 12,499 words | 🛠️

Coming home from the beach, Louis' car breaks down and he has to call mechanic Harry.

9) Bloom | Explicit | 24,887 words | 💐

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry tucks the flower into the top pocket of Louis’ jacket, patting over his heart just once. “What is it?” Louis asks, eyeing the sunny little yellow flower, a bit like a buttercup, “It’s lovely.” Harry pushes a piece of hair behind his ear and smiles, “It’s a primrose. I got them in this morning, reminded me of you.”

10) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27,083 words | 🛠️

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

11) A Hungry Heart | Explicit | 27,601 words | 💐

Harry Styles, florist and Great British Bake Off contestant, loves many things. He loves his flower shop, he loves baking, and there’s also that little crush he has on pop star Louis Tomlinson. But when Louis arrives on set as the surprise guest judge, Harry’s worlds collide. Throw in a cup of cuteness, a teaspoon of teasing, and a pinch of pining, and there’s all the ingredients for an epic love story, or absolute chaos.

12) Tangled Up And Blue | Explicit | 30,159 words | 🛠️

Kai just shakes his head, making his way down the small batch of stairs with a hop in his step. “Have fun on your weird adult date.” Harry sighs. “It’s not a date.” “Dad, you already have him in your bed most nights,” Kai sings, walking backwards towards Louis’ car with an insufferable smirk on his face. “It’s not looking too good for you,” he shrugs, hands curled around the straps of his backpack.

13) You Wish I Was Yours And I Hope That You’re Mine | Not Rated | 31,259 words | 💐

“What did you wish for?” Harry blushes, “If I tell you it won’t come true…” Louis sits straight again, a cute little determined look forming on his face, “I wished that a certain curly ‘aired boy would take me on more dates because I ‘ad such a good time on this one. And that’s going to come true, isn’t it?” “Of course,” Harry nearly splutters. “Yeah, yeah definitely.” “See?” Louis grins smugly. “Now I told you mine and it’s still going to come true, so will you tell me yours?” Their wishes were different though, because whereas Louis’ wish was cute and endearing, Harry found his own wish rather embarrassing. But he can’t lie to Louis, nor can he say no to Louis, so he sucks in a shaky breath of air before he speaks softly, “I wished that I was brave enough to kiss you…”

14) Stay Until Tomorrow | Explicit | 36,766 words | 🛠️

There’s a dull ache seeping through Louis’ body as he wakes up; a mild headache from last night’s alcohol intake, a cramp in his right arm from sleeping on it weird and a familiar soreness between his arse cheeks that Louis fully blames on his lousy one night stand.

15) One Heart Broke, Four Hands Bloody | Explicit | 47,429 words | 💐

Louis’ life is really fucking dull until one day he happens upon the scene of a crime, as said crime is happening. A murderer with big hands and a charming smile somehow manages to change his life for the better.

16) Once Burnt, Twice Shy | Explicit | 52,644 words | 🔥

Louis and Harry are polar opposites in every way. Where Louis is a bestselling author from the city, Harry is a small-town firefighter who’s never left his home. Where Louis is spontaneous and spirited, Harry is introverted and calm, never straying from routine. When an ill-fated accident and an exceptionally intelligent tabby bring them together, they are forced to confront their pasts and forge a better beginning for themselves. Will sparks fly, or will it all go up in flames?

17) No Going Back | Explicit | 56,102 words | 🛠️

Sales reps Harry and Louis are bored with their jobs and their lives. After meeting at a conference in Cardiff they hook up, have a few too many drinks, and jokingly apply to become remote lighthouse keepers. Six months, just the two of them, looking after the southernmost lighthouse off the bottom of Australia. It’s not like their applications will be accepted. Right? This is the story of how one choice - a left instead of a right, a go instead of a stop, a yes instead of a no - can change the future forever and that sometimes, taking that leap of faith, is worth the risk.

18) Between The Sand and Stars | Explicit | 63,128 words | ✈️

When an earthquake strands flight attendant Louis Tomlinson on a tropical island, he’s got paradise at his fingertips - miles of sunny beaches, immersion in vibrant culture, and a beautiful seaside mansion to enjoy. Unfortunately, it belongs to the egotistical musician Harry Styles, whose incorrigible management can do little to hinder his playboy complex. Despite Louis and Harry’s abhorrent first impression, contrasting backgrounds, and tendency to bicker every time they speak, who says opposites can’t attract? Them, of course, because they hate each other … right?

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

🍸 Harry Crosby headcanons

18+ -helluva lot of nsfw under the cut but interspersed with a lotta fluff and domesticity…to me that’s the appeal of this man, cannot be separated one from the other: the unassuming sweater wearing vet at the block party is also a man of hidden depths.

Long promised and woefully incomplete, the word count was getting out of hand so I’m tossing it out, there’s more where this came from. Not edited so, apologies

Entirely co-written by myself and my comrogue @crazymadpassionatelove , enhanced and bedazzled by chats with @ab4eva including special additions from other guests who commented under my announcement post, credit is given at each specific point for their contributions

|screencap cred grabbed from: @hawkinsfuller

First off let me say it’s been ages since I read A Wing and A Prayer. I remember loving it, loving him and I cannot stress how much I respect and admire the real Harry Crosby and his Jean, the Missus of our dreams.

This is purely for fun, a heavy mix of both Boyle’s portrayal and a tad of Crosby’s real life vibes as taken from his accounts by me. Sometimes you gotta take historical figures’ virtues in one area -say navigation and math- and translate it to the more suggestive aspects of life -say, how to find a clitori- *gunshot*

Because this man’s biography is the most oral-leaning, drink-your-respect-women-juice book ever. Ok, almost ever. For a wwii book at least. Uhem so -I am prejudiced, sue me.

See, sometimes it’s the quiet, stressed ones with a self consuming desire to please who have the cozy sweaters and the attentive appreciation for your interests and the stubby fat schlongs and the propensity to keep you in suburban comfort all your days

The compulsive drive to call you “button” and be on time for church and thank you for your scrambled eggs each morning with eager kitchen countertop oral before waking you children up with annoyingly soft catchphrases they’ll recite fondly at his funeral: “rise and shine” etc

Also back to the perfectly respectable schlong for just a moment -This is a Thing! Justice for the perfectly adequate plug stoppers, not everyone needs a rolling pin, who can resist giving head when the head is the same gorgeous color as his lips?!

Mr Crosby is skipping off to lecture college kids about literature post-war with a pep in his step that you put there without fail, you can’t help it, it’s as essential as the matching “his and hers” coffee mugs you bought during your honeymoon

Cookies slightly burned cuz you’re busy as bunnies in the bathroom while the kids ride bikes in the cul-de-sac is a Crosby staple

This is a man who as husband keeps you well supplied with mixers and microwaves and cute little nighties and also loves your brain -SCORE.

Loves to gift you with bath oil and fun stuff to smell good. He's into lavender. It benefits him in the end, loves to sit on the edge of the tub and just talk with you for ages

Croz’s go-to distresser is to have Jean sit on his face until his vision spots

She knows as soon as he walks in the door. Fixes him a Shirley Temple, takes him by the hand to the bedroom and …..boom.

De—stressed

As for the ptsd nightmares? He just barely starts to thrash in his sleep and Jean is rolling that man over and taking matters into her own hands

You’re Jean now, you do realize that don’t you? It was never ever going to be anyone but Jean

This man leaves love letters on your pillow, in your apron pocket, in the dash of your car anywhere at all that you’re likely to be. All of this even though he’s gonna be home by six that evening.

Also, hear me out: lots of evenings he just lays down next to you for ages, facing each other on your sides, absentmindedly mapping your body with his calloused palms and fingering you for ages while talking about Persuasion.

Actually gives a shit about your opinions too, and not in the way of wanting to argue them. When you make a good point his eyes get even droopier and he grabs your neck and…

“You're one smart cookie Mrs Crosby”

“My clever, wise, beloved…”

Honestly though, deep connections and the ability to go vulnerable, and if those moments are often concluded with little laughs to shake off the moment -it doesn’t diminish it

Can actually talk about dying to you, not in a morbidly preoccupied way, but he can face it and admit it and be vulnerable enough to acknowledge the likelihood

Then get on with what needs doing

He appreciates how well you grow to know him, and he in turn makes a lifelong study of you

Also, this man is so highly attuned to your well being.

Yes you have to put up with his stress but for you? He will man-up repeatedly and without thought. He doesn’t even think twice about just up and leaving whatever situation is tiring you. did you see him hop up to get the fuck outta that bar fight? Yeah so, you’re bored? Tired? Stressed? It’s not even machismo it’s just a homebody not giving a fuck with the subtext of “my wife and I would like to go home and read and cockwarm”

Often gives the shiftiest excuses to army buddies and coworkers just to go home and hang with you, swears he has to repair that squirrel feeder -or that an alligator is in his swimming pool, “sorry guys maybe drinks next week”

Don’t tell the guys but…HE PAINTS YOUR TOENAILS

Maybe some of your high school friends snickered about Harry Crosby way back when. Making googly eyes at you and barely getting out the most stammered greetings? Bookish and a little clumsy at times?

Ha, you won in the end

He comes home in one piece, that beautiful schlong still intact

you prayed for that ok?

“Lord keep my husband safe -- and his girthy manhood in tact as well” …for the babies you’re hoping for of course...just that… kneeling in silk pajamas each night, adding this addendum with a blush but was always faithful to keep it in your prayers

Sometimes you have that thought in church as well...so you has to take a couple deep breaths and calm yourself...it's because you want children...not because you’re already so sprung off this man's dick after only a couple weeks of married life.

weeks that feels like a lifetime ago now, by the way

Prim and lovely Jean Crosby staring off into stained glass worlds thinking of having her tight little hole tugged open and her guts rearranged, it’s even worse than her thoughts prior to the wedding, because she’s had the experience, then suddenly it was ripped away

And she’s empty and scared to death for him

She gets asked to sing at the funeral of a lieutenant who never even got off the ground during a training flight,

work and church and such are hopeless distractions

Wanders through the department store wondering if every other wife misses this way, does everyone feel the same primal ache?

Dear Jean Crosby terribly worried she’s a freak yet entirely unrepentant for it

But ya know what’s probably funny? Across the ocean Harry Crosby is sometimes so direly missing his wife in the carnal way that he just about spaces out too, and god knows there’s zero privacy anywhere and the showers are the showers but like???? it’s just a no-go most times and everyone gets very confused when he’s in this mood?? Not at all suspecting baser distractions are what’s at play. Somehow someone figured it out, maybe he actually snapped a little about having five seconds to himself while reading a letter and they’re like

OH

And somehow there seems to suddenly be five minutes or so when NO ONE but Crosby is in the showers?!

It only takes him two minutes to get there but he needs to stand there catching his breath and clutching at his heart while he thinks of Jean sprawled beneath him

This is probably Douglass’ doing? Because he’s a good dude, he doesn’t underestimate Croz AND he’s a dirty little bastard himself

“Fellas, the man got himself a wife while half of you guys are virgins? Of course he has urges?”

In a quiet, rare moment, Gale bends his ear -Harry is so modest and low key...unlike some folks *looking at you Bucky*- “So, uh, where'd ya say you and the missus went off to before ya came here?“

Gale’s gotta casually open the door for this conversation “Lots of good sights to see? I, um, haven't done much traveling myself”

It takes Croz a few conversations until he realizes just what Gale means, until then there’s a lot bewildered eyebrows at the inquiry and bashful appreciation for the interest: “Major Cleven I-I already told you, sir, we had a little cabin in the Alleghenies for a week?“

He's been telling Jean about Major Gale Cleven, about how she'd really like him. Gale is a good fella. He tells her about all their "travel talk"

Until one day Jean writes back: “Oh honey, that Cleven of yours is a virgin”

Whether Harry divulges to Gale anything he learned about ladies in that little cabin in the mountains writhing before a fire on a bearskin rug, that first time Harry actually didn’t stop and ask if Jean was dying every time she made a noise but instead, kept going until her cried properly built and she screamed…

well, it was probably an abbreviated account that mostly consisted of “wives are just wonderful people, Major Cleven” with a far off look in his eyes

Gale leaves him to it after all- Harry was married for like 3 seconds before he left, It's literally either playback of the last horrific mission or thinking of the curve of her spine

He gets the dreamiest look on his face, eyes all shiny, mouth a little slack

Somehow these two can be so passionate and yet it’s so wholesome and good and angelic?!!! It’s the allure of them

Because it’s all in these gentle and safe and good boundaries? Like it isn’t complicated and yet it’s not simple and it’s neither settling nor is it turbulent. something to be said for “doing it right”

They genuinely thank God for each other, they’re so sure it was always intended to be just them

I have 1k of headcanons just for the homecoming ok? Y’all will have to request those separate

But once home:

The eye contact they make at social events?? It’s a whole language, the most loving and adorable thing ever

He may not be a real gem of a singer but he’s an excellent hummer. so much gentle humming around the house while he’s fixing the stove light or rocking a baby to sleep or-

You know what I mean don’t you? Some men can just humm and you’re instantly wet? No I don’t mean humming a Billie Holliday tune

I mean humming when you make a new reaction to his incessant fingering while he’s reading, makes him look away from the page and arch a brow, highly inquisitive puppy dog look on his face, reading glasses pulled down.

*a new spot? After all this time? Must investigate further*

This man, when in his element, is a goddamn tease, he’s impossible, he’s goofy, he makes sex the joyous sacrament its supposed to be every damn time and he ain’t shy to remain stark naked for ages

Praise kink for miles in that, once you’ve praised him, he will keep doing whatever earned it for the next two hours. Brace yourself

He can recite your favorite literature passages (he knows them and took pains to memorize them by your tenth anniversary) when he’s gently plowing you from the back with his hand on your neck and your ear lob in between his teeth

He’s a biter my friends -gotta keep quiet somehow, can’t scar the passel of children y’all made, after all

So many excuses given to kids about “mama and I need to talk about the mortgage” -very rarely is mortgage even thought of once the door is closed and locked

But that brings us back to the early days, it’s one thing to know someone so well after all those years but the early days?

Two Virgins named Jean and Harry went straight from the chapel to fucking like Bunnies before he went to war

Harry had done his research tho. All that reading…

Harry Crosby totally ate his wife out on their wedding night.

even though he’d never really seen a full vagina before

he’s a bit methodical, yeah? At first? with a hint of overly flustered and terribly delighted

So I’m just picturing him like hunkering down there, tentative but firm hands on your thighs: “to get my bearings, honey pie” as he takes in the lay of the land

because there’s a lot happening down there on a lady, ok? -there’s petals and more petals and slippery slopes and little buttons and a tiny hole that has to be for pee, no way he’s supposed to go in that one?! but, but she doesn’t have another? Well the backdoo- no can’t even think of that. Oh god ok, ok, vaginal opening, -I guess that’s a vaginal opening?! and due north, a little button that makes her squeak when I touch it. ok ok, might as well start there…

I can see him with a metaphorical pencil behind his ear, ready to jot down notes

Jeanie finally sighs and grips him by the ears and hauls him up for a kiss and just grinds against him and insists it’s lovely

“just kiss me, silly.” she says to him after awhile.

“Mmm, I do like kissing you, Jean” he grins back

he’s naturally kissing his way to her boobs and staying there a lovely long time but she starts pushing at his dark head, *hint hint* lower down her belly and lower, and lower and he’s so caught up he doesn’t even realize it until there’s a sweet little patch of curls under his chin and he looks up with the oddest expression of curiosity and doubt on his face only to be met with Jean’s expectant eyebrow

She wouldn’t want me to?—-*ah, she just face planted me in pussy, ok then*

Lapping at it with the biggest grin, there may or may not have been some noise complaints

the whole apartment complex just knows he’s a good husband, never would peg him as a stud if you met him in the hallway but, Jean sure takes forever to say goodbye to him in the mornings so he must do something right

All the neighbors just can't help but be happy for those two kids

They cook them food and leave the casserole dishes on the landing so they can savor each other for as long as possible before he leaves

Next Sunday they show up at church like dutiful little Americans and they’ve got hickies everywhere and his cheeks are a permanent pink, Her knees are red and raw under her church dress

I feel like maybe they get a little adventurous as their time together draws to a close? Maybe they break a dining room chair? She's too mortified to put it out on the curb

*saves it for 50 years*

Some of those wedding china ends up in pieces on the floor. Can't explain to her aunts why they don't have a full set all of a sudden

i really hope he never loses that occasional hair trigger premature ejaculation tendency.

Sometimes it even shocks him, “O-Oh...shoot”

The last day together is a dismal and precious night

The poor man probably laid there on her sweaty boobs after blowing his last load with the saddest *fml* face on as he processed it being, indeed, his last

But HOMECOMING!

and now the war is over they can set up house and make babies

A small breeding kink, after all, these men marched home from war and basically were told "get a job and let's repopulate for all the boys we lost!"

It’s so damn primal when you think about it but under the veneer of the starched and polished 50’s

Croz can't think straight in that tight little hole, let alone think of the ramifications of another baby

“Give it to me, give me another, come on Harry, we've got an empty space in the Christmas card anyway, think of it!! fill me up baby oh godddd Jesus bless your pretty dick-*

it’s the most mundane reasons and he still busts a nut like she’s some filthy vixen and not his sweet and slightly too optimistic wife

frantic love making with a sweater and socks still on, too

Jean is a writher because the longer they are married the longer he lasts and soon she’s come and he just keeps going and she cannot keep quiet then and he’s too big to ignore or calm down between, just thick enough to always be tugging just right and she fully sobs from it sometimes

Often she’s trying to cup herself?!? Fully spasming and shaking and curling in but his strong forearm is over her belly and his lips on her ear

This man is a god at spooning sex

she is so cock feral when she falls pregnant it almost alarms him

The books didn't say anything about this?! He's exhausted and dehydrated and his classes are suffering as a result

Wants to ask Egan if he encountered this phenomenon

His war buddies become a new father support group

"Hang in there pal, only three more months"

They’ll be in the kitchen just chatting before dinner, she wants to tease him. Scoops a little cherry pie filling onto her finger. He licks it and sucks it off -- bites the finger too, in the background dogs are barking and kids are running amuck

As the Crosbys you’re in for a life of very benign but nauseatingly idyllic Christmas parties.

Snow globes, y’all

Sweaters, spiked eggnog and very well thought out gifts

Harry is the sort to carry Jean's purse when they are out shopping and she is trying on clothes. He also has no problem going and buying her sanitary napkins at the drugstore when she's on her period, because it's completely normal and there's nothing for anyone to be embarrassed about. Basically, he is just stupidly in love with her. He's like a puppy who will always follow, but she doesn't take advantage of that fact (credit to:@noneedtoamputate)

He is Harry “Have You Met My Wife?” Crosby back home, too, it’s even worse when he gets tipsy and his confidence grows and good luck shutting him up about how beautiful she is

This is the sorta man whose kids only learn Daddy was a goddamn boss during the war when they’re outta college, a very casual “oh yeah, that was sort of a thing, pass the salt.”

It’s canon this man cut his own son’s hair all his little life, propped him up on a little stool in the back yard and got to trimming -some of the only times the boy ever heard of those devastating missions

Imagine? Same man who used to take you out on the porch into the night air and rock against his sweater when you were a baby and wouldn’t settle is the same man who bombed the hell outta Fortress Europe

He’s the kind of man whose kids are so enamored over how both sides of the coin could settle in the same man, they end up making a documentary about him

Now I also need you to think of this man at bath time in the early 50’s -Shirt sleeves rolled up, top two buttons on his pristine white button up shirt popped with a peak of chest hair showing through, his curls getting steamed by his kids bubble baths

He’s got the prettiest slightly hairy forearms, y’all -according to Jean at least

Gives himself a bubble beard to make his kids laugh, will stay on his knees watching them play for ages, fully participating

His white shirt gets fully transparent with all this splashing and Jean has to really keep her mind on what’s next when she can so easily see his hair and pretty little nipples pebbled in a chill under them. Stops her whining about water on the floor in seconds.

Harry’s already hushing her and mopping it up with a towel anyway

The Crosby kids will have memories of their idiotically in love and enthralled parents who loved being parents, wrapping their baby selves snuggly into towels and setting them on the counter and just cracking up over how cute they looked with their chubby and shiny widdle faces poking out of terry cloth

Jean and Harry spend a lotta time doing that, they just love their kids, ok?

Brushing their cute little Croz curls

Jean can’t say no to a single one with their sad puppy eyes their daddy gave them

Sometimes they sit the kids in front of the fireplace (they obviously needed a house with a fireplace after that honeymoon) and line them up. Talk about them as if they aren't sitting right there. "Honey, look at those gorgeous eyes -- and his smile! Oh my, who do these cuties belong to?"

But it’s not all placid domesticity. Picture this:

Crosby with a mega phone, organizes a neighborhood Easter egg hunt. He's in charge, his aviators on, taking this so seriously

There are maps, he’s planned this for weeks, some of those traits and skills he picked up during the war come back at the oddest times

this gets even more intense if any of the war buddies are there

Harry writes letters to them strategizing, they all come and bring their own kids

It makes the local paper for being one of the biggest Easter egg hunts the state has ever seen

Night falls, children fall asleep and there are still some eggs left. Armed with booze and flashlights, the boys go out to collect the rest

Harry and Jean don't collect any though, they end up in a bush necking somewhere

Bucky gets very adamant about finding them and Brady is just as adamantly begging him not to

But Major Egan cannot be stopped, he rallies his men, hopping on the kids’ bikes and scooters

Everyone heckling each other in the dark suburban neighborhood

"Ya lost your touch Buck, keep up will ya?"

They all end up in a schnapps induced heap in the Crosby's backyard, long limbs all folded up on too small equipment

Jean and Harry leisurely stroll back up the street under lamp glow to their house where everyone is feral and collapsed and calling loudly for their hosts

Sharing soft little smiles and picking twigs out of each others hair

They tuck these idiot men in on the couches and floor, blankets, sleeping bags and dogs

Hear me out: Jean is the only human able to talk a belligerent Bucky out of his thirtieth beer

She has that sweet way about her that makes every person wanna be a better man for her

When he finally gives in and throws his arm over her little shoulders and swears she’s a good woman, Harry is there with the pan and the aspirin and the blanket

She makes them all the most perfect hangover breakfast the next morning, gingham checked apron stretched over swollen belly

Harry nuzzles her belly when she stops at his plate to dish up the eggs

Everyone wants to gag over how perfectly content these two are but that would be a waste of the best breakfast in the USA

And if Jean happens to make the best baked goods on the block - Croz is making sure everyone knows just who’s muffins those are on the bake sale table. Or if she wants to pursue a career or education? Harry is her biggest cheerleader, doing anything and everything to support her and being sure that everyone knows how incredible she is at what she does. (Credit @blurredcolour)

They may be the sweater wearing, block party and Sunday school couple but don’t think anybody gets away with being snide to Mrs. Jean Crosby -there will be comeuppance, even if it’s just an exquisitely literate verbal evisceration.

There's even more often a roaming band of local kids who kick the shins of everyone who's mean to Mrs. Crosby, because she gives them sweets and feeds them when they're hungry and cleans up their scrapes when play gets too rough and -if Mr. Crosby hands out a comic or two to the boys that "accidentally" tripped some bloke who was harassing his wife, well. All is fair in love and war. (Credit to @promptedwordsmith)

When in the summer of 49 the Crosbies get a swimming pool dug? It might as well be considered public property.

not just the kids who are attached to the crosbies, though. your home is a constant revolving door of visitors - including a bunch of ex-servicemen. if it's not bucky lounging in the pool, or rosie painting the fence in his shirtsleeves because he wanted to be helpful, then douglass is smoking a cigarette in the yard while trying to make you laugh. ev is asking harry to show him how to read this goddamn map bc they're supposed to be taking a trip to the grand canyon in a month, and bubbles is over for dinner every other night. even brady sometimes shows his face, if only to carp at harry for getting them lost over france that one time while working the barbecue because you asked him to. when you and harry bought the house with an extra room you weren't sure you would ever use, you didn't expect it to be occupied as often as a popular hotel. if anyone ever had any bad intentions toward the crosbies, they're definitely rethinking it. those that don't...well. being in the air corps teaches one all sorts of creative ways of getting back at people. (Credit to @fidelias)

Imagine all the different skills the Crosby kids (_and their neighbor friends who never seem to leave_) learn from these guys?

“Oh yeah, Bucky Egan taught me how to swim while wearing his aviators…”

In other words:

Harry Crosby went home and built himself a little Norman Rockwell Camelot and then opened the doors of the kingdom to his buddies and -that’s as it should be.

And that’s not even mentioning how the Air Force and the CIA walked up to his front porch and interrupted a backyard ballgame to ask him for his help

It sucks to be super smart and needed when all ya wanna do is teach literature, go camping and help keep the church life going

But still

Jean sure looked good in Pakistan, the kids enjoyed a new culture and Harry likes to say he may have done some good

[leafington]

𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙘𝙪𝙩! 𝙘𝙪𝙩, 𝙘𝙪𝙩, 𝙘𝙪𝙩! - kento n.

content warning !! - blackfem!reader, nanami's charisma being sky high, culture shock (on nanami's end), fluff, not proofread, self-inserted barber experience (i get my lineups at home), ib an ugly fucking picture of the back of nanamis head and his barber clearly needs to be fired.

It's pushing thirty minutes that you've been gawking at the back of your husband's head. When he first got home and threw his stuff where they belonged, you knew something was wrong. You, as the supportive wife you are, came to his aid and stepped back seeing his grumpy expression.

"Be honest, how bad is it?"

Nanami did not want an honest answer because he's locked himself in the bathroom ever since because of the 'Who the fuck did your hair?' that escaped faster than your brain could register. You didn't mean it in a bad way, you were just upset due to some unlicensed prick who ruined your man's hair.

Uneven, cut horribly wrong, hairline crooked, he practically came home a different man and not in the good way. "Baby, it'll grow back." You console him, scrunching your face. He's never had a problem with his stylist until today, what made today different? Nanami shrugs off your hand originally positioned in his hair, his tone sour. "Not in three days time. How am I supposed to go to work like this?" You would call him dramatic but if you were in his shoes, you'd be mad too.

"Maybe you could wear a hat? Or like some sort of headband, scarf—" You list, replacing your touch to land on his back. "And is any of that appropriate for a professional workplace?" Shit, you're just making it worse, and the look on your face isn't helping.

Nanami's far more pissed now, you've been staring at it all day. He gets it, his cut is bad. He's beating himself up about it that he let it happen! He tries to forget about it, but suddenly there's a reflection of him everywhere in the house. To make matters significantly unfavorable, Gojo's laughter erupted from his phone later in the evening spouting all sorts of comparisons to his nasty do.

"YOU LOOK LIKE ANGELICA'S DOLL HAHAHAH." His loud exclamation gets cut off by the phone being inable to pick up how hard he's laughing. "STAR TREK CALLED, THEY NEED A NEW CAST MEMBERRR." It was almost sad to watch Nanami try to even muster up the ability to yell at him, Gojo isn't even calling him for his first purpose anymore.

His day has been everything stemming from the word rough. Nanami turned his back away from you like it was your fault (it was) in your shared bed. You tried googling solutions to his problem, nothing came up besides 'Quick tips on hair growth!' and '5 Easy Steps to Obtain Natural Hair Growth!', while drenching his hair in oil might do the trick, it wouldn't save him the embarrassment for his upcoming day at work.

Essentially, you forgot all about it when you opened up social media to mindlessly scroll for a bit. Coincidentally, a post from a close friend came up that showed off a client's hair he did. You liked it and scrolled once more before a thought crossed your mind.

"Ken?" You tap his shoulder lightly. "I think I can fix your..." You eyeball at his head in the dark, questioning if it can even be remotely related to hair. "problem." And you show him the short footage. Nanami skeptically looks between your phone and you, internally wondering if you're being genuine. "With all due respect, I understand you're trying to help, but I do not want that kind of style nor do I think it'll hold seeing as how different our hair textures are." A groan comes out shortly after rolling your eyes. "I'm not suggesting you get waves, Kento. I'm saying I could try to get you a booking there to at least attempt to save your head."

Seconds of silence pass, becoming a minute later, before Nanami heavily sighs and tosses his arm over his head. "And you trust him enough to where I won't end up bald?" He double-checks. "Yes. His wife does my hair for everything and I took my nephew there to get himself straight." Hesitantly, he throws a nod of confirmation, allowing you to message your friend to see if he could squeeze in an emergency booking for Nanami.

You weren't aware that you got a reply until the morning, luckily, your friend agreed to take him in whenever the two of you could come. After getting dressed and cleaning up a little, you shuffled through your purse to make sure you were prepared. Nanami, on the other hand, wore one of your silk pink bonnets on his head to hide the disaster beneath it.

It was a last resort, but whatever kept him satisfied.

The drive there wasn't long in your eyes, but for Nanami it was down right torture. He didn't know these people other than your friend who ran the barber shop, that and he's breaking the universal law of staying loyal to his standard barber—even if he'd never forgive him, he still felt bad. Having parked your car off to the side, your husband stood awkwardly when you tried to drag him inside despite his constant protesting, you had to promise him you'd take him out for bread later, bribing him like a little kid.

"Hey, Y/n! Long time no see." Your friend greets, permitting a side hug as additional welcome. He turns to Nanami wearing what he presumes is your bonnet, and fights off a chuckle. "And you must be her husband?" He goes for a dap, and to your shock, follows through, patting each other on the back. "I am, Y/n speaks quite much and highly of you." He raises an eyebrow at this and mutters something about you and your type for sticks in the mud. "Let's see the damage." The male prompts for Nanami to take the makeshift protectant off.

Collective 'Damn's' and hisses erupt in the small room, your friend even thinning his lips and coughing to hold back a cackle. A few barbers stopped what they were doing or snapped their attention back to their job, even some customers didn't even wanna look.

"Stop it. He's been pissy about it enough." You grimace, and your friend throws an arm around Nanami. "Don't worry, man. You're in good hands." He whisks Nanami off to his chair, grabbing an apron cape to put over him.

You, yourself, worry about Nanami's adaption to this new environment. The constant chatter of controversial topics, sports, things that bother them or don't understand. It's less impressive than sitting at his desk while a scheduled person comes in. From your spot across the room, he was surprisingly doing fine. They kept everything to a minimum seeing as you were present, but Nanami was actually getting along with everyone quite well! He bonded with your friend and his workers, discussions shifting like clockwork, weight lifted off your shoulders at this, feeling comfortable enough to finally acknowledge whatever kept blowing your phone up.

Nanami sat there for no longer than thirty minutes, paying his new friend a large wad and sending him off not only another firm dap but a decent style that didn't make him look dragged through the dirt. "You look good." You smile, running your fingers across his clean-cut gently. "I feel good." He lets you do as you please. "They were awfully talkative, not that it was a bad thing." He admits, slightly shaken from how much speaking he did. "I don't even think you talk that much to me." You tease, now gushing over his much better hairstyle.

©2024 leafington dont steal please!! :)

[goldenempyrean]

Hi! Could you do something with either Kate or Nat where they help the reader through bad allergies? My spring allergies are so bad right now 😅 If you can’t, no worries 💗

Aromatic Relief

〚 Notes - Do not get me started on allergies. Genuinely its making me so annoyed. They were awful today so please enjoy me seeking comfort in my own work :,)〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Spring's pretty much kicking your ass. At least Nat's ready to lend a helping hand. 〛

〚 Wordcount - >500〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

Sniffle... 

Sniffle... 

Sniffle. 

“Oh my god.” Tony groaned loudly, hitting the back of his head against the wall of the quinjet dramatically, “Seriously?” 

“Tony.” Nat almost growled the man’s name staring daggers into his eyes, “Don't.” 

Tony held up his hands in surrender, a small smirk still playing at the corner of his lips. "Hey, I'm just saying," he said, "maybe next time you could check the pollen count before we head out on a mission." 

Natasha rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to you, who was sniffling and rubbing at your red, itchy eyes. "Don't worry," she said soothingly, "I'll take care of you." 

You smiled weakly at her, grateful for her comforting presence. Nat had always been your rock, and her unwavering support meant everything to you. 

Nat knew how bad your allergies could get and how miserable they made you feel at times. She also knew that there was nothing worse than being stuck on in the quinjet with no actual medicine to help, sure it stocked regular medicine, but some paracetamol wasn’t exactly going to help stop your ceaseless sneezing. 

But still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, “Are you sure we have nothing that could help?” 

“Hold on, let me see what I have in my bag,” Nat said after thinking for a moment. Standing up, she rummaged through one of her rucksacks for a while before pulling out a small bottle. 

“This should help,” she said, showing her girlfriend the bottle of essential oils. “It’s a blend of lavender, peppermint, and lemon oils. Yelena told me about it a while ago, so I’ve just kept some of hand in case of emergencies. It should help.” 

You nodded, taking the bottle and tentatively sniffing it. “It smells good,” You realised, inhaling more deeply. 

Nat sat down back down next to you, putting her arm around your shoulder. “Just take deep breaths and try to relax,” she said softly. “We’ll be back at headquarters soon, and you can take a long shower and get some rest.” 

You leant into her, feeling grateful for Nat’s comforting presence. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, inhaling the calming scent of the essential oils. 

As they flew back to headquarters, Nat kept her arm around her you, holding you close. She knew that allergies could be unbearable, but she was still glad she could help you feel a little better at least. 

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @mahalkitanova @romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @shin-conan-kun @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @citrussnz @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @blackwidow-3 @asiangmrchk13 @lovelyy-moonlight @juiles @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69 

[gaysindistress]

As Good a Reason - three

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: when Brock Rumlow picks a fight he can’t win with the White Wolf, he drags his Snake back. Six years after she ran away, Y/N Rumlow is faced with a choice to make; do as she’s told and kill the White Wolf or overtake her father instead because spite’s as good a reason to take his power?

warnings: cursing, violence, weapons, mentions of past abuse, people getting hurt, Bucky being too hot to handle

word count: 2.5k

Tag list @kandis-mom @casa-boiardi @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @cakesandtom @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @vonalyn

Two | series masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are not how Y/N is supposed to look. They are merely for aesthetic purposes and Y/N is written vaguely enough for anyone to see themselves in her.

Jasmine liked to use a boar bristle brush and oil to style Y/N’s hair when she was growing up. It started as a daily ritual with Y/N sitting between her legs while she worked the oil into her ends and brushed it into a braid. Sometimes if Victoria was nearby, Jasmine would do hers too but as Brock became more “present” he made her stop. He hated the smell of the oils and complained about how greasy it made his daughters look. As time passed and he became more harsh with his words (and fists), Jasmine started to only do it at night before they all went to bed. When the girls awoke in the morning, the oil wouldn’t be as noticeable, and thus Brock became none the wiser. 

Now without her mother’s gentle singing and tender hands, Y/N does the ritual on her own with her boar bristle brush in hand and oil in the other. She hums the songs Jasmine would sing as she slicks back her hair into a braided ponytail. The oil causes the light to reflect off and blind those who look at her the wrong way while the sleek manner doesn’t leave room for mistakes. Brock, the ever controlling man he is, demanded that she wear jewelry to make her appear more “girly and less threatening.” She wanted to roll her eyes at his appraisal of her normal appearance but decided that that was not the battle she wanted to fight for the moment. 

Victoria lended her a pair of tiered gold hoops and tried to get her to take more but Y/N refused. The years of training that their father had put them through stayed carved into her brain and she couldn’t shake the voice that screamed at her “Anything that isn’t essential to the mission will hold you back.” 

After she ties an elastic on the end of her braid, she grips the edge of the bathroom counter and stares at her reflection. Before her is a woman that she barely recognizes not because her makeup or hair is different. The woman looking back is full of malice and misery, ready to explode on the next person who wrongs her. Granted she had been hiding in Phoenix but she was healing and felt like she might find inner peace soon. The moment she stepped foot in New York, she had been transported back to the teenager she had been before she left and it pained her to feel that way again. 

Rather than feeling sorry for herself anymore, Y/N tears her eyes away and looks at the dress he gave her laying in her bed. No one knew that he had even been there, let alone left behind something akin to a gift. It shocked her that not even John noticed the blacked out car but then again, he seems more focused on watching her than the outside of the house. 

Her alarm rings, letting her know that she needs to be downstairs in the next 15 minutes or John will banging on her door. 

And 15 minutes on the dot, he is doing just that. She finishes putting on her heels and stands, brushing off her dress before opening the door. John goes to say something probably snarky and rude about keeping him waiting but he stands there with his mouth open, no words coming out. 

“Are my brother and sister ready?” Y/N asks, mildly annoyed at the way he obviously looks her up and down. 

“Wha…what?” he stutters, shaking his head to himself. 

She repeats her question as she pushes him back and closes the door behind her. He doesn’t get time to answer before Victoria and Niklaus call out to her from the foyer. Both are dressed to the nines with Niklaus in an all black suit and Victoria in a deep purple corset dress. She eyes Y/N and huffs for a moment as she crosses her arms. 

“Well that’s rude. You’re not wearing the dress I picked out for you AND you didn’t even tell me that you were going to match with Niklaus.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t even told that we were going to be matching,” Niklaus pipes up as he tries to hide his smirk. 

Y/N gives her sister a bored look, “I’m sorry I didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb wearing a bright green dress.”

“It was emerald with a shimmery overlay. Excuse me if I wanted you to look like a model for once,” Victoria shoots back as she further inspects Y/N’s dress, “Where did you get this? I don’t remember it.”

“Oh,” she freezes for a second and meets Nikalus’ watchful gray eyes, “I packed it. I figured I was going to need something fancy.”

“How is a plain black dress ‘fancy?’”

Niklaus saves her and speaks for her, “Black dresses are timeless, Vic. Now let’s go. I’d rather not listen to our father complain about us being late.”

Victoria loops her arm in Y/N and whispers more about how the green dress was her favorite but this one is good too. They chuckle with each other and Y/N catches John’s eye for a second. A wave of unease washes over her but she shakes it off. 

Now is not the time to worry about other people’s emotions. Right now she needs to focus on the plan that Niklaus put together to kill the White Wolf and where to hide the weapons that he’s handing out in the car. 

Ear piece in place, Y/N has to endure the sounds of Victoria laughing and flirting with every man who looks her way. Niklaus occasionally begs her to shut up so they can focus but to no avail. She keeps up her charade of an interested party goer and gets some of the men to tell her where their target is. Those poor souls who give her what she wants are left wanting more as she blows them kisses and winks as she disappears into the crowd. 

She slides next to Y/N at the bar with an empty martini glass in hand, “He’s upstairs.”

Y?n glances at her before following her eyes to the staircase where at least ten men are guarding the upper level. 

“We have ear transmitters for a reason,” she says without taking her eyes off of the men. 

“I know but I like talking to people. It’s weird talking to myself.”

Niklaus’ voice crackles into their ears, “Victoria, find Y/N a way upstairs and past the guards. I won’t be far behind but please for the love of god don’t stand right next to each other.”

“Nic, they already know who we are and what we’re here to do probably so why does it matter?” Victoria shoots back. 

“Because we need to at least make an attempt before getting killed ourselves.”

“Fine,” she says with a flare of drama like normal as she pushes off of the bar and sneaks back into the crowd. Y/N goes to do the same but Steve appears at her side with a hand wrapped around her bicep and stops her. 

“Excuse me,” she sneers before she looks up to see who it is. 

“Hello again, Ms. Juárez,” he smiles down at her, “Rumlow, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. That hasn’t be my name for years.”

“I don’t think your father would agree.”

“My father can shove it.”

With his hand still on her arm, he pulls her closer to him as he says, “Your sister was right.” “About?” she says back, hiding the underlying fear that is starting to boil up. 

“We know that you’re here and why.”

“Oh?”

“Ear transmitters are so 1990s,” he says as he plucks it from her ear and crushes it between his fingers.

She nods, desperately trying to search for Niklaus or Victoria in the crowd but comes up empty handed. Steve sees this and directs her attention to the staircase where they’re being led up by a group of men. 

“I have to admit, I’m disappointed that there wasn’t any fighting before we caught you three with you being the Snake after all,” he whispers into her ear as he tugs her along in the same direction, “Your father made it sound like you were going to be the end of all his enemies if they crossed him but you know, I don’t see that.”

“There’s something to being patient.”

“Patient or killing time so you don’t have to do this? Maybe you don’t have what it takes?”

“People die everyday, all I do is speed up the process.”

Steve chuckles as he drags her up the stairs, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say your little phone call with Boss made things complicated.”

“Good thing you don’t know shit,” she hisses and tries to jerk her arm away but he grips it even tighter and presses a gun to her lower back. 

“You’re wearing the dress he gave you, I think that’s evidence of some complication. Too bad your father is a fucking dumbass. Maybe things would’ve ended up differently.”

“Are you implying he would’ve arranged some bull shit political marriage with your boss and me? I’m not some mob princess. I don’t submit to men like you two.”

“Id love the chance to try but boss on the other hand. He loves fiery girls like you.”

Y/N takes a deep breath before spinning around, gripping the gun and turning it so it’s pointed at Steve, “Too bad we’re not in some teenage girl’s fantasy land and he won’t get a chance. Where are Niklaus and Victoria? We’re leaving now and you will not follow us.” Steve leans down so he’s inches from her face with a wolfish grin on his own, “You’re not in a position to be negotiating, little snake.” 

With that he shoves her through a door and she stumbles into a room full of men armed to the t. The siblings in question are tied to chairs in the center with fully automatic guns trained on them. The man she saw drop the gift box stands between them wearing a quite bored expression. Steve closes the door and shoves her shoulder again further into the room before forcing her to sit in her own chair that faces her siblings. 

His hot breath fans over the side of her face as he leans down, “Play nice.”

Y/N spits in his face and he drags a hand down to wipe it away as he lets out a terrifying belly laugh. The other man produces a pocket knife and swiftly brings it down on Victoria’s hand. She lets out a wail of pain and screams for them to be let go while Y/N looks at her with no emotion. 

“Are you going to behave now?” Steve asks her and she nods slightly, “Good I would hate to ruin her pretty face.”

“That’s enough,” another male voice calls from behind her. It feels familiar but in a way that makes her skin crawl and her flight or fight response activate. The harsh and thick weight of it forces her lungs to expel their air but that undertone she couldn’t place reveals itself; there’s a sense of chaos that lives in the deep baritones of his voice. She shutters briefly when she hears his shoes hit the hard wood as he walks up to her. He sets his cold hands on her shoulders, chilling her to her core but she straightens up and keeps her head held high. 

“I see you’re wearing my dress,” he whispers to her and her only, “You look gorgeous in it, dragă, far more beautiful than I could’ve imagined.”

She wants to shake his hands off and forget the compliments but she can’t. His hands squeeze her shoulders as if he’s going to let go but he doesn’t and instead he starts to speak to her siblings. 

“Niklaus,” he says in a condescending tone, “I’m disappointed in you. Of all the plans that you could’ve come up with, this one is the one you went with?” Niklaus casts his eyes to the ground in shame because he knew better, he knew this would end badly but still he went through with it. 

“And Victoria, ever the minx. You weren’t even subtle with it, asking anyone who would listen where I was,” Y/N can feel his gaze shift to her, “and you, my little snake. You were a breath of fresh air albeit underwhelming. Given all of the stories your father has told me, I expected far more than this half assed attempt. I’m tempted to let you all go and make you fight for the excitement.”

Victoria cries harder at his words and everyone can feel the White Wolf roll his eyes at her weak try at gaining sympathy. Steven even yawns at how bored he is while the other man between them shifts on his feet. 

“Sam,” the White Wolf says to that man, “take the knife out.”

He does as he’s told and unceremoniously rips the knife out, causing Victoria to crumble forward as much as her binds will allow and sob even louder. 

The White Wolf lets out a disapproving sigh and grips at Y/N’s shoulders again to get her attention. 

“I’ll let your brother and sister go,” he starts as he lets her go and circles so that she can finally see him up close, “if you agree to help me kill your father.”

“Careful boss, she likes to spit,” Steve piped up but it falls on deaf ears.

The man crouching before her is striking in an unsettling way and that feeling increases tenfold with the way he’s solely focused on her. She finds it in herself to speak and in the meantime she prays that her voice isn’t shaking when she asks about what more he wants from her.  

“That’s all.”

“That can’t be all. There’s always more.”

“No really that’s all; I’ll let them go on the condition that you help me kill Brock but if you try to pull one over on me, I will make their deaths long and painful. I might even have you do it, depends on how I feel that day,” he says with a smile and a casual tone that makes her want to punch him. 

Y/N scoffs at his proposal, “i can’t believe you.”

He furrows his thick brows at her. “You already lied to me. You said there was nothing else but then proceeded to add that you’d kill my brother and sister if I don’t help you.”

His tongue pokes at the inside of his lower lip before it darts out and wets his lips, “Well you caught me there but that doesn’t change my deal; help me and they live or don’t and they die.”

“Y/N don’t do it,” Niklaus shouts from behind them, “Please don’t do it.”

An annoyed look takes over the White Wolf’s face and he says something to Sam in another language. Exactly what was said doesn’t matter because Sam slams the butt of a gun into Niklau’s temple and renders him unconscious. Victoria chokes on another cry and Sam does the same to her. Y/N’s nose flares in anger and she tries to jump forward but Steve holds her in place. 

The White Wolf grips her chin and forces her attention back to him, “Deal or no deal, little snake?”

“I don’t do business with fucking pricks like you,” she spits out and his grip gets tighter. 

“Your future won’t be too bright if you don’t lower your business standards. I’ll ask again and if I have to ask a third time, I’ll just shoot them.”

Y/N stares into his soulless blue eyes and searches for any hint of humanity left. 

She finds nothing. 

“Deal.”

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 17, 2021 1:30 a.m. paradise hotel

[grant] it drove päivi insane and i just try to be considerate. like i've been dealing with this for years, but i'm very well aware it's not pleasant that i wake up sometimes because i'm pain and that when i do, i get up out of bed for a bit so i don't end up so stiff that i can't stand up at all in the morning.

[henry] shit, i didn't think about that. i'm sorry.

[grant] why are you apologizing? you didn't do anything wrong.

[henry] i don't know. because i feel great 24/7 and i'm privileged enough to forget that others don't?

[grant] well, that's not really your fault. it's not like i'm good at acknowledging being chronically ill in any overly serious way. honestly, it's just easier when people forget anyway!

[grant] talking about it is never not a little bit awkward.

[henry] yeah, i wasn't aware it was bad enough to interrupt your sleep.

[henry] i knew it was bad, you know? bad enough some doctor finally cared to figure out the mystery suffering and that it need surgical intervention, and i remember the exact day something first changed in you when we were kids, but that's about the end of my awareness.

[henry] man, you are also a chronic hider of information.

[grant] that's me! your hopefully favorite secret-keeper.

[grant] i don't mean to, like, keep you in the dark about this. it's not personal. especially not these days. i'm trying my best to be open. it's just...it's just awkward.

[grant] i've had enough bad responses to being sick in my lifetime that i just feel inclined to never mention it, you know?

[grant] have you tried yoga? have you tried CBD and essential oils? but you're young and look fine, you can't be sick, you're making this up! have you tried religion and cutting out all the ingredients like gluten and sugar that make food actually fun to consume? no, no, those things are poisoning you - haven't you read that gut health is the #1 cause of autoimmune disease? it's definitely not chronic stress plus your long family history of busted immune systems! check out this carnivore diet website, you totally won't get fatal heart disease from all that red meat and butter instead, bud!

[grant] or i get pity. or assumptions of what i can or cannot do.

[grant] you want to bash your head against the wall after a while. no one really gets it but they think they do.

[grant] not that you've ever done those things! or that i think you would! or that i think you don't get it! sorry, that was a lot. it just came out all at once. i think i have some insane pent up rage about this whole thing. but no, really, you're the same as my family; they don't respond badly either. i just, well, you know. again, forgetting unless it's relevant is probably preferable. i like it that way.

[grant] i don't want the awkwardness. or anyone to worry about me.

[henry] i wish you weren't afraid of telling me about all this.

[henry] you know everything about me. even the not very good parts. you're one of the only people i talk about having depression with and that's excruciating to bring up. people don't respond well to that either. maybe not with pity or assumptions but definitely obnoxious suggestions. sunshine and exercise do not fix me. lexapro and therapy sessions kind of.

[grant] and i'm glad you do! i do personally understand mental health issues, but even if i didn't, still, i'm glad you feel safe opening up to me about it. and i always want you to. and i'm always thinking about you and hoping you're doing well enough and if i can do anything–

[henry] oh, grant. you scramble my brains sometimes. that self-hating demon is still trapped inside you.

[topazadine]

OC Fun Facts Tag

Thanks for the tag, @illarian-rambling! I particularly liked that your villain has a New Jersey accent lmao.

I'll do five fun facts for each of my main characters.

Uileac Korviridi

His favorite Bremish festival (predictably) is Feast of the Horse, particularly the mounted archery competition. I mean duh. He makes everyone else look like pathetic losers.

He doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, but Cerie does, so their house is usually filled with all manner of sweets.

Uileac has a bunch of weird little rituals he does before battle, like making sure he has an even number of arrows (lucky) and brushing his horse Erix's armor with blessed oils. I mean, I guess they've worked? He hasn't died yet ....

One would expect such a dextrous man would play an instrument, but he doesn't, he's too busy to learn. Though he thinks the fiddle is pretty cool.

If he did not have his beloved palomino mare Erix, he'd probably want a dapple gelding.

Orrinir Relickim

Even though he went through all the same training as Uileac did, Orrinir has never figured out how to fire a bow. No amount of training seems to make it stick.

His favorite Bremish festival is the Feast of Saint Mermina, where people throw flower votives of the saint into the water and swimmers try to retrieve them. Every damn year, Uileac intentionally designs his so they fall apart, but poor Orrinir tries anyway.

Orrinir LOVES to bake. He's very proud of his manly and cool creations in the kitchen. You know, like little apple dumplings shaped like hearts. Incredibly manly. Very brave.

Because he does not drink much, Orrinir is a total lightweight. As such, he typically is the responsible non-drinker who escorts his mildly drunk husband Uileac and embarrassingly drunk sister-in-law Cerie home.

Orrinir has been known to play around with a mini piano (kalimba) on occasion, usually when bored out in the field. He likes it because you don't really need any musical knowledge to get it to work.

Haniya Aina

Haniya is EXACTLY what you think when you think "horse girl." Kinda snobby, convinced that she has a unique bond with horses that no one else in the world could ever fathom, and obsessed with the latest and greatest in tack trends. Her horse Saelsie has tack that costs more than most peoples' houses, and can you blame her? Girlie is a literal princess.

Because her mother, Queen Susuma, was essentially absent throughout her childhood, Haniya was raised by governesses and teachers.

She loves music boxes and has quite a collection. Diplomats who want to get in her mother's good graces know to bring Haniya a pretty music box for her trouble. One of her favorites has a mechanical dancing horse.

Haniya's brother, Prince Daiski, was meant to learn fencing, but Haniya, who actually wanted to learn it, was told it wasn't a "women's skill." As such, she lied to Daiski about when his practices were supposed to be and showed up instead, threatening the instructor into silence. Those were her favorite childhood memories.

Her favorite books are about faraway lands, especially travel logs of distant places. Any time that a diplomat comes to visit her mother, she corners them and picks their brain.

Ono Kagan

Ono, being deeply socially awkward, is more comfortable around animals than people. Even animals that he's rather scared of, like dogs.

His first romantic/sexual relationship is with his wife, Vinanna, who is charmed by how sweet and shy he is. YES! The pathetic virgin gets the pretty girl!

The average Sinan outside of the upper classes is illiterate, but Ono taught himself after becoming a royal guard by taking shifts guarding the library. There, he read the children's books that Haniya and her siblings would have been told as children before working his way up to more difficult texts.

His most prized possession is his sword, Melikik ("the sea cutter"), made by his father, a blacksmith.

Ono can't hold his liquor. Like at all.

Mordrek Willets

Mordrek is somehow both the straightest and the least homophobic person in all of Sina. Gay men serve as great wingmen, and lesbians can teach him even more ways to romance a beautiful woman. Bisexuals? Why, he admires anyone who has enough eyes to ogle both sides.

He considers his mule, Carrot, to be his best friend and closest confidante. Carrot gets the best of everything, even when Mordrek can't afford to feed himself.

His greatest fear is heights. Maybe that's why Queen Susuma keeps sending him to high-altitude places.

Mordrek is agnostic. He jokes that all the gods probably hate him, so he doesn't want to believe they exist.

Though Mordrek gambles on occasion, he only plays games that he knows he can win with his wiles. Or by paying someone to fix the game for him.

Cerie Korviridi

Cerie is one of the most irritating overachievers you will ever meet. When she's working on something, you better leave her alone or you're going to get your head bit off.

Sometimes she likes to daydream about what she would have been if she didn't become a High Poet. Her top three alternate professions are horse trainer, potter, and leatherworker.

Cerie is messy af and is always forgetting where she put stuff. Orrinir yells at her about it all the time.

She's a night owl, which is unusual in a country that doesn't have artificial light like Breme. She just likes it when all the world is asleep and she can focus on whatever she wants to do.

Her favorite festival is the Feast of Snow Lights, where people go around and recite two-line traditional poems; if the homeowner misremembers it, they have to give the guest a drink. She, of course, has them all memorized, but sometimes she'll come up with her own just to screw with people, and then they have to call a "truce" and both give each other something.

Tagging @drchenquill, @the-golden-comet, @mysticstarlightduck, @davycoquette, and open tag

[crookedfandomquill]

"Hotel King" Rewatch: Episode 1

Let’s address the elephant in the room: if I had a dollar for every time Lee Dong Wook and Lee Da Hae played love interests in a fake-out incest plotline…

Tragic backstories are like blood in the water and I am a hungry-ass shark

I’m sorry but his name being Jayden will never not be funny to me. I am from the American South and I know multiple Jaydens, all of whom are polo-wearing white boys ages 5 to 26 whose moms sell knock-off essential oils out of the backs of their minivans. I can’t take the name seriously in this context

“Is this heaven?” Oh honey no it really isn’t

Ah and the gaslighting begins. I’m remembering now that the main character in this drama is one of the more traumatized ones I’ve come across

Mmm yeah this is a good look for LDW. Not my absolute favorite (*cough* Soo Yeol *cough*) but objectively spiffy nonetheless

You know what, that party was so painfully lame that Chairman Ah saved it by falling to his death in the middle of it

Say what you will about the balls-to-the-wall plots of melodramas, but more often than not they deliver really incredible character writing. 30 minutes into the show you already know so much about Jae Won: he’s cold and full of anger, but he’s also idealistic and a bit naive (he genuinely thought Chairman Ah would acknowledge him and beg forgiveness if he just confronted him). He’s competent and driven but also completely beholden to his abusive father figure. He’s a man of few words and fewer platitudes, and the only thing sharper than the lines of his suit is his business acumen. Going back through the journey of getting to know the characters is my favorite part of any rewatch

Meanwhile, Mo Ne be sneakin’ (badly)

Gosh, imagine your beloved father has died and you make your grand return to the country by crab-walking in public, committing widespread property damage, and braining somebody with a large frozen fish 

Oh look, it’s the manager who CARRIES A HORSE WHIP??? Look, she knows her aesthetic and she’s rocking it. And no patience for guests creeping on the maids, I can’t not stan

Alright, but the fact that our lead couple starts out with him thinking she’s his secret half-sister/rival for his inheritance, and her thinking he killed her dad? It’s the messed up, angsty, weird, character-driven stuff that dreams are made of (mine, at least) 

Mo Ne really said “I want lots of money and zero responsibility” and let me tell you I felt that in my broke 20-something soul

Very strong soundtrack on this drama tbh, even if it does get repetitive after a while

Overall rewatch thoughts: I’m a ho for intrigue and this drama has so much of it, no wonder I binged the whole thing in about two days the first time around. The acting is as good as I remembered it, the secondary characters are so promising just from the first episode, and the vice chairman really makes my skin crawl. Knowing all the insane twists and turns the story takes just makes the rewatch extra fun. Safe to say that I have been thoroughly dragged back into Hotel King!

[nfumbewalk]

Crystals, Herbs, Rants

I've always loved crystals. The fascination started as a kid when we visited the coast a few times a year. The old seashore shop was full of glass fishing floats, life saving appartuses, storm worn wood, jewelry (mood rings!!) & lots of toys but mainly LOTS of crystals! Geodes of amethyst & quartz, huge slabs of Obsidian - green & black, like what I have, but much smaller. It is Seaside, Ore. Greatest place on the North coast (Astoria too!).

The Ore. coast should be more known for crystal shops. There's a great one closer to me now in Yachats, Ore. (Said: Yah-hawts) Obvious Native Americans did own this place. 😉Like our Willamette, said Will-am-met, which translates to "valley of sickness." Lovely! Sorry, ADD brain is jumbled.

Back to crystals n shit! They are essential to my work. I don't wave them and get a magic breeze with a "Aahhhh." Nope, get to know me, I'm extremely practical. My crystals are clean, but never, ever saged - because I despise sage & I think that it's an anathema to everything, every energy out there. I would rather go find dry pine needles in the desert and use those. And what's the deal with Dragon's Blood atop of sage? Nightmare of odor! Smoke & mess, no thanks.

I've written books on herbalism (long out of print) and I'm very knowledgeable about plants, resins, oils, tinctures, even marijuana & making hemp oil (known commercially as RSO) for medicine. I did not get ANY of my knowledge from the internet & I find some seriously messed up herbal correspondences online. I got my information from books, but old ones, like Culpeper, Grieve, Agrippa as well as a couple good Witchcraft sources like Sybil Leek & L. Huebner, neither of them being "white" light. Paul Huson is much known & borrowed from for ppl online. Trust me, his stuff does not compare. I also have other Witchcraft books predating 1960 that help me tremendously. Where did I get these?

Hunting old book stores & thrift stores because my town is a freaking *haven* for witchcraft, but not quite my style, so I've always been solitary. I'm much too misanthropic to have any relationship with anyone in person. Online? Sure, just beware of my barbs, though I'm not even close to being a Scorpio. 😅

I'm not claiming to know much, just a lot of little details about certain things & I'm shady on other things. I know what I paid attention to. All goety - good. High magic - mostly, a lot I fudge because I hate Crowley's, Mathers, Regardie's....etc, mumbo jumbo. I won't make an effort and I won't even remember the LBRP! Why? Hated the ritual & all the goddamn vibration. I don't vibrate in my practice, except when I have to - really loud banishment rituals, usually of lesser known demons and amped up strong spirits. Ppl who've known me a long time can attest to my hatred of "ceremonial" magic. Just because ppl call it 'high magic' doesn't make it superior to 'low' magic, or goety.

Some are suited to certain types of magic, everyone has a niche somewhere. The niche can be found quickly, or in my case, it can take 20 years. Never knew that working with muertos would be the my path. Yes, Orisa, and they are equal. Equal I say? Well - I'm NOT in a Orisa religion. I agree with some, but not a lot. I completely disagree with initiations being forced. And they ARE forced. Sorry.

Yeah, pay for this, pay for that. Bollocks. No cash for enlightenment!! I know exactly where the money goes & it's not needed. People raise & board animals for sacrifice. Non-initiates can cook food. Setting up ceremony is not that hard. They want money for fancier soperas & temple goodies. I can understand paying for time, but it doesn't need to cost thousands of dollars.

I told my dad (R.I.P.) about Palo & the prices. His head spun. He said no matter what, religion has nothing to do with money. Man does. Man wants money, he wants the sucker to be culled. - Welcome to one of my lessons of The Con: In's & Out's. Taught by Frank Thorp, best dad ever! I don't con often, but if I ever do, I was taught by the best. That's one thing my brother never got from him. My older brother is kinda dead-to-me because of his "Fake Antifa/Communist" ways. Dude, he's 53 years old. Grow the fuck up. I live with this crap. I'm in a college town. Sucks!

More rants? I just sound old cos I am. Middle-aged & strange. And I have a very interesting present & past full of happy, sad, spooky, synchronicity-laden stories. Hope to blog here. Let's hope for more follows!

[bookclub4m]

Episode 192 - Non-Fiction Graphic Novels & Comics

This episode we’re discussing the format of Non-Fiction Graphic Novels & Comics! We talk about what we even mean when we say “non-fiction,” comics vs. graphic novels, art vs. writing, memoirs vs. other stuff, and more. Plus: It’s been over 365 days since our last gorilla attack!

You can download the podcast directly, find it on Libsyn, or get it through Apple Podcasts or your favourite podcast delivery system.

In this episode

Anna Ferri | Meghan Whyte | Matthew Murray | Jam Edwards

Join our Discord Server!

Things We Read (or tried to…)

Moi aussi je voulais l'emporter by Julie Delporte

This Woman's Work by Julie Delporte, translated by Helge Dascher and Aleshia Jensen

Sông by Hài-Anh and Pauline Guitton

Kimiko Does Cancer by Kimiko Tobimatsu and Keet Geniza

Why I Adopted by Husband by Yuta Yagi

The Art and Life of Hilma af Klint by Ylva Hillström, translated by Karin Eklund

Go to Sleep (I Miss You): Cartoons from the Fog of New Parenthood by Lucy Knisley

Nuking Alaska: Notes of an Atomic Fugitive by Peter Dunlap-Shohl

My Brain is Different: Stories of ADHD and Other Developmental Disorders by Monzusu, translated by Ben Trethewey

The Comic Book Guide to Growing Food: Step-by-Step Vegetable Gardening for Everyone by Joseph Tychonievich and Liz Kozik

Other Media We Mentioned

Fun Home by Alison Bechdel

Fun Home (musical) (Wikipedia)

Maus by Art Spiegelman

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi, translated by Mattias Ripa

Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands by Kate Beaton

Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud

The Essential Dykes To Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel

Displacement by Lucy Knisley

Pedro and Me: Friendship, Loss, and What I Learned and Judd Winick

Melody: Story of a Nude Dancer by Sylvie Rancourt, translated by Helge Dascher

Kid Gloves by Lucy Knisley

The Mental Load by Emma

The Secret to Superhuman Strength by Alison Bechdel

What Is Obscenity?: The Story of a Good for Nothing Artist and Her Pussy by Rokudenashiko

Homestar Runner

Button Pusher by Tyler Page

Last of the Sandwalkers by Jay Hosler

Clan Apis by Jay Hosler

Ping-pong by Zviane

Dumb: Living Without a Voice by Georgia Webber

When David Lost His Voice by Judith Vanistendael

Blankets by Craig Thompson

Smile by Raina Telegmeier

Dog Man by Dav Pilkey

Sensible Footwear: A Girl's Guide by Kate Charlesworth

Links, Articles, and Things

Harvey Pekar (Wikipedia)

Joe Sacco (Wikipedia)

Japanese adult adoption (Wikipedia)

In the name of the queer: Sailor Moon's LGBTQ legacy

The Spectre of Orientalism in Craig Thompson’s Habibi

Cultural Appropriation in Craig Thompson’s Graphic Novel Habibi

35 Non-fiction Graphic Novels by BIPOC Authors

Every month Book Club for Masochists: A Readers’ Advisory Podcasts chooses a genre at random and we read and discuss books from that genre. We also put together book lists for each episode/genre that feature works by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) authors. All of the lists can be found here.

This Place: 150 Years Retold

Zodiac: A Graphic Memoir by Ai Weiwei with Elettra Stamboulis & Gianluca Costantini

Nat Turner by Kyle Baker

The Talk by Darrin Bell

The Best We Could Do by Thi Bui

I’m a Wild Seed by Sharon Lee De la Cruz

Messy Roots: A Graphic Memoir of a Wuhanese American by Laura Gao

Stamped from the Beginning: A Graphic History of Racist Ideas in America by Joel Christian Gill and Ibram X. Kendi

Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts by Rebecca Hall and Hugo Martinez

The 500 Years of Resistance Comic Book by Gord Hill

Good Talk: A Memoir in Conversations by Mira Jacob

The American Dream? A Journey on Route 66 Discovering Dinosaur Statues, Muffler Man, and the Perfect Breakfast Burrito: a Graphic Memoir by Shing Yin Khor

Banned Book Club by Kim Hyun Sook, Ryan Estrada, and Ko Hyung-Ju

In Limbo by Deb J.J. Lee

This Country: Searching for Home in (Very) Rural America by Navied Mahdavian

Mexikid: A Graphic Memoir by Pedro Martín

Monstrous: A Transracial Adoption Story by Sarah Myer

Steady Rollin': Preacher Kid, Black Punk and Pedaling Papa by Fred Noland

Citizen 13660 by Mine Okubo

Your Black Friend and Other Strangers by Ben Passmore

Kwändǖr by Cole Pauls

Worm: A Cuban American Odyssey by Edel Rodriguez

Power Born of Dreams: My Story is Palestine by Mohammad Sabaaneh

A First Time for Everything by Dan Santat

Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood by Marjane Satrapi

Grandmothers, Our Grandmothers: Remembering the "Comfort Women" of World War II by Han Seong-Won

Death Threat by Vivek Shraya and Ness Lee

Palimpsest: Documents From A Korean Adoption by Lisa Wool-Rim Sjöblom

Big Black: Stand at Attica by Frank "Big Black" Smith, Jared Reinmuth, and Améziane

Victory. Stand!: Raising My Fist for Justice by Tommie Smith, Dawud Anyabwile, and Derrick Barnes

The High Desert by James Spooner

They Called Us Enemy by George Takei, Justin Eisinger, Steven Scott, and Harmony Becker

Feelings by Manjit Thapp

The Black Panther Party: A Graphic Novel History by David F. Walker and Marcus Kwame Anderson

Now Let Me Fly: A Portrait of Eugene Bullard by Ronald Wimberly and Braham Revel

Bonus list: 21 Non-Fiction Manga

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[a-temple-in-unpeopled-land]

Baths

Now the thoughts are slow like the speed of a pen rather than the speed of a thought. Not every sentence needs to be completed so let’s begin there. 

A thought to present the bath as a setting, knowing that’s where I want to be having these reflections, but I’d always eventually tell you that I’m sitting at a desk just now and the bathtub in question is thirty-seven miles away in an apartment I’ll only have access to for another handful of weeks. That apartment and the matter of the bathtub are not part of this story. Not now. 

Thoughts I hadn’t recorded that occurred to me when I truly wanted to see the end of thinking. The overheating of my body in essential oils; not being the first one to think of a bath as a soup of self, this being of course related to the willingness to divulge the inner narrative as inside becomes outside through perspiring pores, tear ducts, and orifices which must become plumb with water (but to what degree? I’m not a medical expert). I simply pee in the bath this time with full acceptance. I will take a shower as I drain the tub, standing shin-deep in the residual drainage as new water rains onto me from above. I can’t live with my life at any time but I would not accept to smell like lavender and hot piss after what is meant to be a cleansing act. Life is meant to be either a comedy or a tragedy. 

So much easier to get lost in the jumbled mind of a phone than to follow any task to completion. What were we talking about? I will never reread what has been written. I do remember the tail-end, though, so fair to say you wanted me to veer from hot piss anyway. 

I keep social media apps off my home screen so to access them I have to pull up the search bar and type their names. My rationale for this procedure being that the mere labor required to access the medium, the less likely I would be to mindlessly wander in their reaches. I suspect I’ve only increased my daily mental effort by some degree— how many calories are burned to type “Facebook” while sleepwalking?— but whatever, you weren’t keeping track anyway. I assume you’re all online within each new fifteen minute segment of the twenty-four hour cycle and I assume you assume the same thing about me. Some habits exceed shame. Your phone started spitting those data points at you after some uncalled-for update and your inner child felt a pang like the numb thud of another fallen branch from a long-dead tree and you turned that rude notification setting off, as did we all. Or you’re one of those hibernating bears that only register subconsciously the judgement of those occasional banners and have swipe-snoozed them away for the past eight years. 

Average screen time: 6 hours

This really isn’t supposed to make you uncomfortable about yourself. I promise, this is a me thing. We don’t have anything in common and you know this well enough to void anything from your eyes and ears which might cause alarm. These are the thoughts of an anxious depressant who has not spoken to more humans in as many years as he has fingers and toes to count them (he has all of the expected numbers of fingers and toes if you were wondering) and the man just told you he pissed in his bath, so please do let go of any concern. This is all of the same nature as a TikTok feed. There may be a labor worker’s body mechanically separated into precise three-inch laminated layers in a land where warehouse regulations aren’t so tight, but the death was filmed on the shittiest CCTV trickled through The Feed on a seven-second loop within our two-hour doomscroll, so again, what were we talking about?

I’d want to know about your memory. What’s your sense of time? That dedicated piece of my brain is charcoal. Smatterings? Remembrances. Reels!— let’s keep the theme. Reels of light and sound for a precious few moments pass before my eyes. I never know if it’s a memory or a dream, or merely a projection I’m developing in the current moment. I see pictures of pictures. Not the memory of my father and I on a swing, smiling, with matching cowboy hats (which I’m sure we never otherwise wore), but a screenshot of the framed picture of that moment we had on a mantel or a table, a memory so poor it took years of passing the image to cast a single likeness in my mind. But there it is, something. Our two faces, the hats, an impression that my father’s face had more dimples then, or deeper ones, and a feeling that dimples in pictures are indicative of true happiness. 

I do recall driving out to go hunting with my father. Nothing about the presumable-several days we spent in the field, but just a wheel of guardrail and eclipses of shadows passing through its corrugation onto my face through the car window, then looking ahead at a straightaway of empty road with long green grasses on either side, and looking back at that turn we’d emerged from, at the tail of the guardrail, and thinking to myself, “I am going to purposefully remember this moment,” before turning my gaze upward to a hill of green on which peaked a slowly turning, wooden, blue windmill. Now why the hell would you want to have spent this time learning about that windmill, the turn, shadows, or guardrails, is a question to which I cannot supply an answer and I apologize for hijacking your attention to that end. 

There have been moments where the pores I sweat through become much larger and I diffuse into the bath everything inside, so that were you to intrude, the caspases released into my form would stain your eyes something biliously brown, yellow, and orange, as only the most primary life-sustaining cells commingle for a moment unguarded by structure. I’d simper in my soup while you vomit in the toilet beside me and we’d be as kindred as becoming allows. This scene, I know, is a horrible scene. I never promised I was in a very polished state of mind. Writing as an image can conflate the writer’s true estate. Why did you see words in a line within paragraphs and presume an order within their orderer? But how ugly to begin with preambled apologies for one’s inner state when the audience is here for entertainment. The layers are laminated, remember, just blood within plastic and no spillage. This will not get on you.

[antimonyandthyme]

Athy hi, how are you? hope you are having a good day!

sun god sico au?? let me bite into your juicy brain nom nom

and of course seb would prioritise his chicken rather himself and give them water first 😭 and being chosen by god, the man is suffering main character disease. both jenson and mark trying to make seb relax, laughing at his jokes even they are affected by that themselves 😞

so nico is sun god? who was watching seb during these three months and choosing him? seb chosen as a sacrifice or a bride? what kind of magic king's magicians did? ah so many questions ⁉️

i hope someday inspiration would find its way to you but if not its still amazingly written work and its fun to think about possible plotlines

yours, 🌻

my sweet sweet sunflower anon huehuehue you have looked into my brain and discovered that the sico sun god au was essentially just an excuse for me to write my fave

naked and bound on an altar...

but to get there i added chickens and magicians and burning corn because a lil trek to the porn is always worth it kekekeke here i'll give you a peek because i love you

The high mages usher Sebastian into a room for preparation. They bathe him in perfumed water, scrubbing away all the dirt he’s accumulated from working the fields. They’re gentle with their hands, and kind with their words, but Sebastian senses a taut anxiousness threading through all their actions.

“What does your magic tell you?” Sebastian dares ask.

It is the smallest of the mages who speaks. He has a royal face, and hair done up in braids, and the gentlest hands of them all. “That the sun god is displeased. In all of three hundred years, he has not called for an offering. Perhaps we have been neglect.”

It is hard to imagine why a god would want anything to do with a farmer, least of all someone as unnoteworthy as him. If he were weighed on the scales that would determine the fate of their land, would he be found wanting?

As if sensing his doubt, the mage smiles at him. “We’re all chosen for a reason,” he says, and Sebastian finds it in himself to smile back.

They dress him in a simple, sheer tunic. The mages have seen him naked, so Sebastian is past self-consciousness at this point. He is handed a vial of unscented oil, a casket of gold, and a headband made entirely of mother-of-pearl. They are the gifts he is to present to the sun god.

Don’t drop them, Sebastian hears Jenson say, and he swallows what would have been an unhinged giggle.

Blindfolded at last, Sebastian is deemed ready. And the second part of his journey begins.

[ablegaming]

Gaming as Anti-Anxiety

Hey friends, I’m sorry I haven’t been posting much lately. Been struggling with health issues, and as a result my old nemesis anxiety has resurfaced a bit as well.

Aside from the many anti-anxiety medications available, which are effective but highly addictive and have side effects (the pharmaceutical industry generally prefers to make lifelong customers), there are several other effective methods of calming anxiety. Among these options are meditation, thought labeling (recognizing the anxiety for what it is), self-reassurance, counseling, deep breathing, yoga, magnesium, vitamin B12*, vitamin D*, CBD, essential oil aromatherapy (lavender, jasmine, lemon balm, and more), sound therapy and guided meditation, sunlight and nature therapy, and crystal therapy (blue calcite, smoky quartz, and hypersthene are quite helpful). Getting enough sleep, food, water, and exercise if you’re able to (I’m not) are also very important for keeping anxiety in check.

If you’re interested, I make relaxing sound healing music that’s free to listen to and download on my Bandcamp page: https://hearherenow.bandcamp.com/album/retrospect

Being around someone or calling someone that you feel comfortable with who cares about you is incredibly helpful when anxiety occurs; hugs, holding your hand, and helping distract you from your worries with good company, conversation, and laughter. As funny as it may sound, holding your own hand when no one is around can actually help too.

It’s important to do the self-work to recognize where our fears and worries stem from, to face ourselves fully without any denial, and to learn to offer ourselves the support that we need. As terrifying as it feels, facing our fears is the surest way through them. Anxiety is a mental program that can certainly be reprogrammed with effort and dedication, and we have the power to transform our mental and physical reactions from harmful ones to beneficial ones through mindfulness and neural plasticity (the ability to “rewire” our brains).

Another effective way to refocus a worried mind is to play calming video games. I’ve put together a list of the most relaxing games that I’m familiar with, and it’s my sincere hope that they’ll help you find temporary solace from your worries when they feel overwhelming. Several of these games have helped me through some anxious times in my life, and I’m very grateful to the developers for making them.

A Short Hike Alpaca Stacka Animal Crossing series Astroneer Captain Toad Treasure Tracker Cloudpunk Cozy Grove Cruis’n USA & Cruis’n World Dark Cloud Day of the Tentacle Dorfromantik Dragon Quest Builders 1 & 2 Eastshade Flower Firewatch Gone Home Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons series Islanders Journey Kingdom: Two Crowns Minecraft (especially peaceful and creative modes) My Time at Portia Night in the Woods No Man’s Sky (you may occasionally land on some planets with extreme temperatures, radiation, and storms) Okami Persona 4 Pokémon Snap & New Pokémon Snap Portal 1 & 2 Proteus Rime Rune Factory series Secret of Monkey Island series Shelter 1, 2, & Generations Slime Rancher 1 & 2 Snowrunner Spiritfarer Stardew Valley Super Mario Galaxy 1 & 2 Terraria (bosses can be stressful but most require specific items to spawn in the world, so you can avoid spawning them when feeling stressed) The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim (dragon battles can be a little intense, but can largely be avoided, and only a few are required to complete the game; bringing NPC companions along helps a lot with tougher battles too) The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (avoid confronting Guardians and Lynels as these battles can be stressful) The Outer Wilds The Sims series The Witness Untitled Goose Game Viva Piñata series Yonder: Cloud Catcher Chronicles

You are not alone my friend. Feel the community around you and the ground beneath your feet supporting you. You are understood, you are loved, and you are stronger than you realize. * Note that deficiencies in either vitamin D or B12 can result in anxiety and depression, but taking too much of either can cause problems as well. Getting sunlight or taking cod liver oil is more natural and generally preferable to supplementing with Vitamin D. There are 4 forms of vitamin B12 and finding the right one for you requires some research and a little bit of trial and error to find the best form for your body; you can absolutely ask your doctor about this, but from my experience most GP’s aren’t terribly knowledgeable about vitamins (a functional or integrated medicine doctor, naturopath, or nutritionist will usually be a more reliable resource). Taking too much B12 or a form that your body doesn’t need may actually result in some anxiety, so proceed gently. As with any supplement, always start with a low dose.

This post can also be read and listened to (text-to-speech) on my Medium page at:  https://medium.com/@AbleGaming/gaming-as-anti-anxiety-c1454efc7082