#it's not nearly as creative as it used to be

[mr-picklehead]

teded:

In honor of World Elephant Day, we present you with 12 little known facts about one of our favorite creatures…in GIFs, of course.

1. Elephants know every member of their herd and are able to recognize up to 30 companions by sight or smell. 

2. They can remember and distinguish particular cues that signal danger and can recall locations long after their last visit.

3. An elephant’s memory is not limited to its herd, nor is it limited to its species. In one instance, two circus elephants that performed together rejoiced when crossing paths 23 years later. Elephants have also recognized humans that they once bonded with after decades apart. 4. 

4. The elephant boasts the largest brain of any land mammal as well as an impressive encephalization quotient (the size of the animal’s brain relative to its body size). The elephant’s EQ is nearly as high as a chimpanzee’s.

5. The elephant brain is remarkably similar to the human brain, with as many neurons and synapses, as well as a highly developed hippocampus and cerebral cortex.

6. Elephants are one of the few non-human animals to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder.

7. Elephants are creative problem solvers. 

8. Don’t try to outsmart an elephant! They have an understanding of basic arithmetic and can even keep track of relative quantities.

9. Elephants communicate using everything from body signals to infrared rumbles that can be heard from kilometers away. Their understanding of syntax suggests that they have their own language and grammar. 

10. Elephants can recognize 12 distinct tones of music and recreate melodies.

11. Elephants are the only non-human animals to mourn their dead, performing burial rituals and returning to visit graves. 

12. Elephants are one of the few species who can recognize themselves in the mirror.

Given what we now know about elephants, and what they continue to teach us about animal intelligence, it is more important than ever to make sure that these magnificent creatures do not vanish.

Check out some more fun elephant facts here and be sure to watch the TED-Ed Lesson Why elephants never forget - Alex Gendler

Animation by the ever-talented Avi Ofer

12 Amazing Facts About Elephants

[tkpuke]

23 and jayvik pretty please :3

Jayce + Viktor - 23. “Yes…I mean, no!”

author’s note: okay so the plot for this was heavily inspired by @ticklish-ghost , @home-of-the-squirmle and I’s discussion on one of their posts so why not make it into a fic okay? okay cool

It was nearing midnight, the only light shining into the lab through the curtains was the moon and its luminescent stars scattered around the sky. Viktor perched an elbow on the table, leaning his cheek on his hand while reading a book that could hold answers to have them move forward with their project. They were close, but it seemed like they were met with a dead end. Scientists don’t take those lightly, so they hungrily search for other possibilities and correct their mistakes on what went wrong.

He doesn’t have a clue on his partner’s whereabouts, but he’s not going to waste time searching for him. Usually Viktor takes the extra mile and works on projects a little more than he’s suppose to. He tends to struggle with the definition of teamwork when he’s been mostly alone his entire childhood, so he has no issue working alone while Jayce heads off for other duties or sleeps at a healthy time compared to Viktor’s sleep schedule.

It was peaceful and quiet. Viktor treasures nights like these. Until something was dropped beside him, creating a loud thunk.

“Look what I made.” A voice suddenly spoke out from behind, it belonging to Jayce which made Vitkor nearly jump a foot from his chair. “Jesus Christ—Jaycewhendidyougethere-“ He looked beside him to see what was dropped, picking it up to examine. An iron knife in the perfect size to fit in your pocket, the ends in a twisted pattern to make it look a little stylish. His face doesn’t show it, but Viktor is slightly impressed. There is no interest in him for weapons, but when it’s created so clean and perfected by Jayce himself, he can’t help but be in awe.

He then puts the knife down, finally meeting Jayce’s eyes. “Another tool that will never be used for its purpose.” Clear to say Jayce has made a couple of tools, most having the same theme: sharp and dangerous. He never uses them, as Viktor stated, but Jayce always gives the ‘you never know’ excuse. In reality the man just gets bored out of his mind at times and gets these random surges of creativity to go down and make any toys his heart desires. Who wouldn’t if they had the skill to properly do so?

Viktor’s eyes started to register that Jayce is full on shirtless right in front of him, muscles exposed and pumped to its core from all the wielding. It never really dawned on him how strong of a guy Jayce is, feeling a bit fragile and small the more he compared his own build to him. How easy it could be for Jayce to effortlessly pin him. How he could take away Viktor’s right to squirm by simply sitting on his waist. How he could be picked up with one singular arm by Jayce with zero sweat.

Jayce caught on to his more than five second stare. Viktor noticed.

He took attention to the soot covered all over Jayce’s upper body, taking that as an explanation of his longing stare. “You’re dirty. Here, sit.” Viktor nudged his head over to a nearby chair, heading over to grab a cloth that will soon be damped with water and soap. “Oh, thank you. You really don’t have to.” Jayce chuckles all flustered in appreciation by Viktor’s care, taking the seat anyway. Viktor comes back, starting to dab the cloth on his shoulders while he works his way down. “Hmph, I’ve seen you sleep before in this state. Least I can do is help you get cleaned up.”

“Hey, I get too exhausted sometimes!” Jayce replies defensively, but gives a soft smile at the end. He grabs the knife he created earlier, fingers feeling around it. “You have to admit, this one looks a bit cooler than the others I have made.” Viktor nods in somewhat agreement, now focusing on the upper chest to clean off. “You can keep it, if you want to of course.”

Viktor shakes his head, not meeting Jayce’s eyes while conversing. “There’s no need for me to have it, but thank you for your…kind offer.”

“You’re keeping it.” Jayce responds back with, putting it on top of the open book Vitkor was previously reading so he won’t forget to take it with him. The other only sighs, being aware it’s a losing battle to argue with Jayce when he’s so set on gifting someone something they’ve never asked for. It’s one of the man’s many love languages: giving gifts.

His hand started moving down more, getting near his upper ribs. A quick shift of change in Jayce’s demeanor, beginning to have trouble sitting still like before and biting down his lip hard. Viktor catches on. Of course he did when he begin to rub the cloth against his body more gently, hoping it sent a ticklish shockwave. Revenge was right in front of him from all the times Viktor was ruthlessly, in his opinion, tickled silly by Jayce who never shot down an opening opportunity to do so. Little to Jayce’s knowledge, Viktor has been seeking out opportunities himself to get back. The whole idea of touch is just a subject he awkwardly moves around in, never having someone so playful and lovingly touchy like Jayce in his life.

With the way Jayce was squirming and huffing air out of his nose to suppress the giggles forming in his throat, it fueled newfound confidence in Viktor’s actions. He took it a step further, pretending a spot of soot around Jayce’s ribs was giving him difficulty to rub off, so he pressed his fingers deeper while curling them a little.

Not expecting the firmer touch along with feeling nails through the cloth gliding around his ribs freely, a surprised gasp slips out. Small giggles came right after, instinctively grabbing ahold of Viktor’s wrist. Viktor raises a brow, feigning confusion. “Sorry, does this tickle?”

“Yes…I mean, no!” Jayce got too distracted from the ticklish grazes that the question failed to register on time for him to think of an answer that may save his dignity. Viktor nudges Jayce’s firm grip off of his wrist, and he hesitantly does so. His partner looks up, doing incredibly well on not cracking a smile to foil his true intentions. “Yes? No? Which one is it?”

Jayce finds Viktor’s calmness to a newfound discovery nerve-racking, wishing he could read his mind right then and there. This is the first time Viktor has ever tried to tickle Jayce, but the poor man truly believes it was done on accident. He’s been so use to Viktor taking his ticklish onslaughts like a champ and never immediately attacking back, or even days later. Jayce had his own assumption that Viktor would never live up fully to his playfulness and do so much as tickle him back. The guy doesn’t even complete Jayce’s friendly hugs most of the time by wrapping his own arms around him, just kind of standing there until he pulls away.

So that’s why Jayce is sitting here, staring into Viktor’s questioning eyes, not knowing exactly on how to respond. He decides to lie, feeling like there’s no use in telling the truth if Viktor won’t indulge a little more.

“Um, just a little. Felt weird mostly.” He so badly does a terrible job of convincing. He releases a quiet held back sigh, not knowing if it was out of relief or disappointment when Viktor continued on cleaning after not questioning him a bit more. Viktor created a pattern, dragging the cloth and his fingers across Jayce’s skin that wasn’t ticklish at all. Then in the middle of doing so, he would press more firmly and curl his fingers again just enough for his nails to graze.

Jayce is terrible at holding in his giggles, making weird ‘kcchh!’ noises and sometimes letting a couple out for a few seconds but in a whisper tone as if Viktor isn’t right in front of him to hear them all. “You’re giggling a lot for someone who claims to just be a little ticklish.” Viktor nonchalantly states, placing a hand on top of Jayce’s shoulder to keep him steady. Jayce was about to do another failed attempt of denying until that pattern Viktor was doing met down around his stomach.

Jayce snorts, instantly slapping a hand to cover his mouth in shock as Viktor pauses his movements. His mouth twitches upward for a split second, almost smiling from Jayce’s flushed cheeks. “Oh, so it does tickle.”

“Viktor, wait—“

“You lied to me?”

“Nononono, it’s just that—“

“No need to explain yourself, Jayce. I’ll be careful.” You’d have to be dumb to not practically hear the smile in Viktor’s tone. Both of them, and if anyone else were to be in that room, would very much know that Victor won’t be ‘careful’. Viktor kept up that god forsaken pattern again, but this time letting it tickle Jayce more frequently than it cleaning.

He observed Jayce’s reactions, testing out different areas around his stomach and what brought out a louder reaction than the other. Fingers curling to the middle of his stomach earned him a full boisterous laugh. Nearing his belly button made him receive laughs that shot an octave higher with an occasional whistle coming from the gap of his two front teeth. Cleaning over his belly button made Jayce snort again, a noise Viktor was seeking out for.

Jayce’s rambunctious laugh got Viktor stuck in a trance. How it’s so loud it can be heard from all over Piltover. Jayce’s high pitch snorts coming out only when Viktor tickles somewhere particularly more sensitive. His eyes being closed shut, a random push to Viktor’s face as if it’ll tone down the ticklish sensations. Viktor now understands Jayce completely. He doesn’t want to stop the fun and hearing the flow of his laugh, everything so mesmerizing and ridiculously childish. Viktor could do this all day. 

Two hands grab Viktor’s wrists while a leg kicked out when he dragged the cloth over his belly button again, shaking his head. “Hohold on plehehease!”

Viktor scoffed. “Stop being a baby. I’m not doing anything.” But it was clear as day everything was now being done with purpose. Hands still holding onto Viktor’s wrists, Jayce takes the granted time to catch his breath. “Hehehe…ohohokay, I am one hundred percent sure I’m clean now.”

Viktor tsked, watching him take in air like he ran a marathon. “I think you might be more ticklish than me, Jayce. Isn’t that something?” Jayce abruptly stares at him, peeved. “Ohoho, is that what you think? Let’s put it to the test then.”

Viktor is now the one grabbing at Jayce’s wrists, pushing with all his might out of reach. “No, Jayce! Stop!” Jayce manages to skitter across Viktor’s side, earning him a squeak that he’s terribly embarrassed of. Jayce relishes it.

“What are you, a mouse?” He teases, letting Viktor push his hands away so he can feel like he’s having the upper hand ever so often just to play fair. Viktor stops his attempts of fighting back, shooting a glare but meanwhile grinning. “At least I don’t snort like a pig.”

Viktor just sealed his own coffin shut. “Oh, is that how you want to play?” Jayce gets up from his spot, startling Viktor. He picks him up with ease, showing no effect of Viktor’s shoves and shouts to be put down at once. Jayce lays him down on the couch softly, a location Viktor is all too familiar with by how frequent Jayce pins him down and tickles him mercilessly whenever Viktor, in Jayce’s words, deserves it.

Jayce does not attack right away, taking the time out of pure entertainment to watch him struggle a bit as if by some miracle today is the day Viktor manages to escape Jayce’s evil clutches.

He’s already giggling. “Jahayce, I am telling you now. Do not.” He manages to sit up a bit, hoping to level with Jayce more and seem convincingly threatening when his cold glare meets his eyes.

Jayce’s hands started slowly moving downwards.

“I now know where you’re most ticklish. I promise you, I will not be gentle when my next chance comes if you dare to do this.”

A leap of excitement was felt in Jayce’s heart at those words, causing him to smile and shrug before drilling into Viktor’s hips.

“I can live with that.”

[that-hazbin]

Immortal Alastor AU, Lucifer has very nearly exhausted every one of his ideas in attempting to murder this unkillable twink. He's tired and more than a little irritated at this point. Alastor sits in front of him, covered in his own blood, tied with angelic rope onto a nailed-down steel chair. Apparently, sticking a bunch of knives in him and leaving them doesn't work— Alastor's regeneration just pushes the knives out. They're just staring at each other, one very amused, and the other decidedly not.

Lucifer: Have I even done anything no one else has tried on you?

Alastor: Well, some of the magical rituals are new, but otherwise, no.

Lucifer: Some of??

Lucifer just decides fuck it, I'll try actually talking to this guy and see if I can glean any information. Because, well, he's being a surprisingly good sport about the whole murder attempts thing.

Lucifer: ... Why do you just. Never scream. Do you not feel pain?

Alastor: Oh, I do, I just got so used to it that at this point my brain stopped registering it as something bad. In any case, you really haven't done anything too crazy. I mean, I've been cremated alive before.

Lucifer: YOU'VE BEEN— oh fuck is this your hell. Did big guy up top decide that you deserved a special kind of punishment and cursed you with your own personal version of hell??? What the fuck—

Alastor: Oh! No, no, you're mistaken. Well, I suppose it was hell at first, but I've grown to quite enjoy the pain. Honestly, if anything, I'm just rather bored; although, you certainly brought a little variety! Truly, this game of ours has been rather entertaining!

Lucifer: ... You know, I'm, like, older than the concept of time itself, so I think I can actually understand your perspective. Alright, I'll start asking around for some... creative ideas. Maybe the sins could think of some things I haven't. Same time next week?

Alastor: Oh, yes, that would be lovely!

[knoepfl]

A Crazy Christmas in Zaun

15/24

Characters:

• Viktor – The brilliant yet workaholic inventor from Arcane. Often consumed by his projects, Viktor rarely indulges in personal connections or sentimentality. However, he holds a deep affection for the Reader, appreciating their creativity, warmth, and ability to draw him out of his usual stoicism.

• Reader – Someone who brings light and warmth into Viktor’s often cold, logical world. They are skilled in their own right, crafting and tinkering in ways that mirror Viktor’s passions, but their focus is more on bringing joy and connection to those around them.

Themes and Trigger Warnings:

• Lighthearted Romance – The story centers on a sweet and tender holiday moment between Viktor and the Reader, celebrating their connection amidst the chaos of Zaun.

• Gift-Giving and Sentimentality – The Reader’s handcrafted gift symbolizes their love and effort, and Viktor’s reaction reveals his vulnerability and gratitude.

• Contrast Between Settings – The warmth of their shared moment contrasts with the harsh environment of Zaun, emphasizing the beauty of finding love in an otherwise bleak world.

Masterlist

Words: 688

--- Zaun’s streets were their usual chaotic blend of smoke, dim lights, and the buzz of machinery, but tonight, there was something else in the air—a rare warmth that could only mean one thing: Christmas. The makeshift decorations strung between crumbling buildings glinted faintly in the dim glow of the chem lamps, and you couldn’t help but hum a mangled version of a holiday tune as you darted through the streets, a package clutched tightly in your arms.

You were late. Not that Viktor would mind too much—he was used to your unpredictability. Still, you had been planning this for weeks, and nothing was going to ruin tonight.

Bursting into the small, cluttered lab he called home, you stopped short, your grin widening at the sight before you. Viktor sat at his workbench, hunched over some contraption you couldn’t begin to understand, his golden eyes focused intently as he adjusted a delicate gear with his gloved hands.

“Viktor!” you called out, your voice echoing through the room.

He flinched, nearly dropping the tool in his hand, before turning to look at you. A soft smile spread across his face as he saw you, his ever-watchful gaze sweeping over your slightly disheveled appearance.

“You’re late,” he teased gently, his accented voice laced with affection.

“I know, I know,” you said, bouncing over to him and plopping the package onto the table. “But I brought you something!”

His brow arched, and he tilted his head, the curiosity in his eyes unmistakable.

“A gift? For me?”

“Of course, for you!” you replied, your hands clasping his. “It’s Christmas, silly. You can’t just work through it without any presents or fun.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I am not one for such traditions. But since it is you…” He gestured to the package. “Shall I open it now?”

“Yes, yes, yes! Open it!” you said, bouncing on your heels with barely-contained excitement.

Viktor’s thin fingers worked carefully at the wrappings, untying the haphazard bow you had knotted at the top. As the paper fell away, his eyes widened in surprise.

Inside was a beautifully crafted pocket watch—though it was unlike any he had seen before. The gears were exposed, spinning elegantly beneath a layer of glass, and the face glowed faintly, almost as if powered by a shard of hextech.

“You made this?” he asked, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

“Of course, I did!” you replied proudly. “Took me weeks to figure out how to make it work without exploding. But I know how much you love things that tick and spin, so… Ta-da!”

Viktor’s eyes softened as he ran his fingers over the watch, taking in every detail. “This is remarkable, miláčik. Truly.”

Your grin grew wider, and you leaned closer, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “I may have also inscribed something on the back.”

Flipping the watch over, Viktor read the words etched into the metal: ‘Even when time stands still, my heart ticks for you.’

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are incorrigible.”

“And you love it,” you shot back, perching on the edge of the table and resting your chin in your hands.

He nodded, his gaze meeting yours with a warmth that made your chest tighten. “Yes. I do.”

You leaned forward, pulling him into a hug. Viktor stiffened briefly, as he always did with physical affection, before melting into your embrace.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured against your hair.

“And you deserve every second of it,” you replied.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, the hum of the lab fading into the background. Outside, Zaun’s chaos continued, but here, in the soft glow of your shared sanctuary, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t matter.

“Merry Christmas, Viktor,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he replied, his voice filled with a quiet kind of happiness that was rare in a place like Zaun.

And for once, it truly felt like peace had found its way to you both, even if just for one night. ---

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

It’s incredibly brave of Blake to take a stand and make all this public. Or rather, that she bided her time, let the process do its thing, and seemingly compiled such a strong case against Justin Baldoni and basically let him and his team hang themselves with their own hubris. And like many others have said, the fact that she was arguably the most powerful person in that production and he and his team thought they could treat her the way they did and subsequently handily “bury her” speaks volumes on the rampant misogyny in the industry, and about how if it was this bad *for her*, imagine how bad is must be for people who don’t have the protection of her level of fame and wealth and privilege.

It’s so weird because obviously I like I think many of us knew things were bad during the movie’s press tour; with the whole cast unfollowing him, everyone distancing themselves from him, the comments, etc., I figured something happened along “creative differences” and that he was evidently not well-liked, but I never imagined it was this insidious or conspiratorial. How could one B-list one-time CW actor cause that much damage on a set? Well, it turns out, extremely easily. Because systems are in place to protect these men, no matter how privileged on paper the women around them are. The depths to which this team sought to ruin her, as an assault on all fronts, is truly Machiavellian.

Blake was “lucky” because she had people who believed her and had the resources and access to protect herself and advocate for change on her set, but she should never have had to protect herself like this in the first place. She went through traumatic incidents at the hands of these men, ones that had tangible consequences on both her mental and physical health and that of her child. And again: if this is how awful the experience was for her at the top of the call sheet, how many other people on this set and others suffer in silence too? How much do these ill-intended people in positions of power get away with that never get brought to light?

I find myself so rattled by this, even though on paper, I shouldn’t be. But it’s just like… We hear about the Harvey Weinsteins and Johnny Depps of the world, the industry titans who prey on people with less power all over the place. Yet for every Harvey Weinstein there’s a Justin Baldoni, just Some Dude who thinks by virtue of their privilege can act with impunity. (And yes, I know the man was a “successful” actor, but he wasn’t Ryan Reynolds-level successful. And I’m not saying success = permission to act this way, I’m saying the abusers are painted as these nearly godlike levels of fame and power, and the reality is that literally anyone can be an abuser and turn a situation into an unsafe power dynamic.)

And not to bring Taylor into it and make everything about her, but I also can’t help but think about the 2016 of it all, let alone situations she’d been in long before that. And how so many things happened to her: the revenge porn music video, the phone call, the smear campaign deliberately orchestrated by the Kardashians, Kanye’s link to Scooter, the internet harassment, etc. The difference was that everything was an onslaught, and Taylor didn’t have the public support or sadly, the evidence, to back up her experience. How different could things have gone if she’d been able to speak up? If she’d been able to counteract the obvious lies? Been able to call out the music video for what it was? She couldn’t for a million reasons, and we now have a glimpse into how traumatic that forced silence was for her. One of the differences between Taylor’s experience then and Blake’s now is that in some ways, folks are smarter about how social media is manipulated (but in others, they’re also much, much more gullible). Taylor had the entire media it seemed out to get her; Blake seemed to be following suit, until her own actions proved the lies incontrovertible so that she couldn’t be silenced.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this, except: it doesn’t matter if you’re one of the most famous people in the world, like Taylor was then and exponentially more so now. It doesn’t matter if you’re an industry veteran like Blake, with a husband who’s one of the most recognizable and powerful figures in the industry himself. Predators will prey on people they want to conquer and put in their place, and they will think they can do so without consequence. The cruelty, as always, is the point.

[enmstorytime]

The Vulnerable Writer: Chapter 6

To my knowledge, I am the only professor in the history of humankind to have willingly subjected himself to being stripped naked and forced to come at the hands of his students. As I sat naked in my office, my students having claimed today's clothing, and my heart pounding as I snuck peeks out of my office window to observe the parking lot slowly empty, I had a lot of time to think.

Most of my thoughts were geared toward thinking about how I would ever live this down. How could I go back to my students tomorrow, strip completely naked and teach them with any hope that they would respect me after they had shredded my clothing today and jerked me off (and if I'm being honest, they hadn't really jerked me off, I got so caught up in the sensation of them looking at me that I didn't even last a full minute from my cock flopping out of my underwear to my seed spilling across the classroom floor). If I kept going back to class and stripping completely naked, how long would it be before a student snuck a picture and posted me online, or before a more pious student decided to report me to my department head, or before I was caught in any of the other million ways that I could be caught.

But if I went back on my word? I knew I was more likely to be reported if I broke my promise than I would be if I kept showing up to class, stripping down to my birthday suit, and trying to carry on like my cock wasn't flopping around in front of my students and my ass wasn't jiggling unsupported with every nervous step I took.

And what if seeing my entire naked body stopped being motivational for my students? What more would they or could they ask from me?

And if this is successful? A quiet voice whispered in the back of my head.

Our faculty has spent the nearly five years since the COVID pandemic trying to find a way to motivate students to care about their studies. Every academic journal I read had a new study about creative techniques on how to motivate burned out students. To my amazement, once my class had calmed down after my little show, that very first day I spent fully naked in front of them, they all sat up in their seats and paid attention to me for the remainder of class. Sure, most of them weren't looking me in the eye, but instead they were watching my cock swing back and forth, but they had participated like no class I've taught even before the lockdowns. They asked questions, they volunteered to read aloud sections from the essays I'd assigned them. Whenever I asked questions, at least five students raised their hands to answer. I'd never taught a better class in my entire career.

Despite the fact that my face was certainly bright red for the entirety of our class period, or maybe because I was so embarrassed and so vulnerable with my students, we had entered into some kind of reciprocal relationship, where my students were graciously giving me support. The small quiet voice in my brain wanted to do more studies, to write an article about my experience, to see if other professors would be willing to do similar experiments with their students.

Of course, that was out of the question. My administration did not know that I had decided to use these methods. They could not know. Without having those conversations with my administrators, I would never be able to to move forward with any actual research. And I wasn't sure I really wanted to, since it would mean even more time naked in front of students, course after course to collect data.

I cracked the window blinds again, leaning back in my chair so my abs stretched and my armpit hair would have been on full display if anyone walked into the door at that moment. I watched my department head cross the parking lot, climb into his Lexus and drive away. I couldn't deny the thrill of pleasure I felt sitting in my work office, stark naked, watching my boss leave work.

For the next couple of months. I'd walk to my class in my new teaching suit. Wait for class to start, and begin the class by removing all of my clothing, folding it, and draping it over the side of the chair. Then, I would teach my lessons. Class after class, week after week, month after month, I would teach the best lessons of my life, with the most engaged students I could imagine. Whenever anyone started to act up, Cody or Seth would tell them to be quiet, and just like that, classroom tension would be resolved. And I'd walk back and forth across the classroom, my bare feet slapping on the floor, my cock at eye level with all my students.

It was near the end of the semester when my students let me know what they had done. They had all submitted their first vulnerable essays, the ones that had gotten me naked and spilling cum in front of them, to the school's literary magazine, and every last one of them had been published. I beamed with pride, and then the panic set in.

The first email came from my department head. I received it thirty minutes after the class period when my students told me they'd all been accepted for publication. He congratulated me on my accomplishments as a professor and let me know that he would be joining my class the following afternoon to learn more about my methods. Four more emails came in throughout the afternoon from other professors in the department, all of them scheduling opportunities to come observe my class.

With each email, my stomach plummeted. I would have five colleagues sitting in my class tomorrow. I imagined trying to start the day without stripping down and imagined the absolute uproar that would ensue from my students.

The next day, as I walked into class, I made eye contact first with Cody, who smirked at me. He was seated in front of my department head. Along the back wall stood four professors, all of them older, all of them men who had been on my tenure board, all of them men I admired.

I had spent the whole night agonizing about whether to inform them of what they could expect and debating whether or not I could ask them to choose not to attend. In the end I had just left their emails on read, and mentally prepared myself for the fact that five more men would be added to the list of people who would see me teach in the buff.

"Class, you'll notice we have some visitors today," I said as class began, taking off my suit jacket and folding it over the back of my chair at the front of the room.

All eyes went back to the department head, and then they settled back on me. They were waiting, curious to see if I was a man of my word.

"Since you've all performed so well in this department, some of my colleagues have asked to see my teaching methods," I continued.

Cody whooped. My department head cocked an eye brow but remained silent.

I unbuttoned the sleeves of my shirts at the wrists and started to roll them up, my forearms exposed. Then I reached up and loosened my tie and unbuttoned my top button.

"I didn't warn them how relaxed we get in this class," I said.

"Damn straight," Seth said, "We get really fucking relaxed in this class."

And too my amazement, Seth stood up, and started to undress. All eyes were on him as his skin came more and more into view, and within fifteen seconds he had stripped completely naked, his toes wiggling on the floor, his penis swaying. He winked at the head of the department and sat back down.

"Really relaxed," Cody said.

He also stood up and undressed completely. His cock inches away from my department head's face, and I watched my department head's eyes tracking the arc of Cody's dick.

Within a minute, every student had stood up and stripped completely naked. I'd never seen so much male flesh in one room.

"In this class, clothes don't get in the way of our learning," Seth said.

"That's right," I said, feeling grateful to my students. "None of us do."

My department head sat behind Cody watching me as I stripped off my own clothing. Within seconds I stood completely naked in front of my boss, in front of my colleagues, in front of all my naked students. I met my department head's eye.

He sat, one of the only clothed men in the room, and I could see that he was enjoying it. At the thought of my boss being pleased to see me in all my naked glory, I stiffened, my penis pointing directly at the department head.

"Let's get this class started," I said, turning to the chalk board and giving my department head the view of every last inch of my skin.

[sundropflowerr]

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas | Steve Harrington

★ Warnings: dad!steve, mom!reader, husband!steve, fem!reader, no use of y/n, established marriage, domestic fluff, mentions of parenting and child behavior, playful family banter, holiday traditions, mild chaos caused by kids, Steve being the ultimate dad, tender family moments, sweet kisses, references to Home Alone, soft nostalgia, and an abundance of Christmas warmth.

★ Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, 1995, and the Harrington family is in full holiday mode. Between their six-year-old son Ethan’s endless questions, their four-year-old daughter Sadie’s knack for causing adorable mischief, and Steve’s playful dad jokes, the night is full of warmth and laughter. 3k

★ Pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

★ Fic Inspiration: “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” - Frank Sinatra (again)

★ Dividers: thank you to @bernardsbendystraws for the adorable divider, it’s greatly appreciated!

★ Author’s Note: husband and dad steve harrington. goodness. anyways this should be the last Christmas and overall fic of the year (be on the look out for new year’s day) unless i get inspiration again. this is horribly messy and terribly written but nonetheless enjoy!

Snow fell steadily outside the Harrington home, muffling the usual sounds of Hawkins under a thick, sparkling blanket.

The rooftops were capped in white, the snowdrifts shimmering under the glow of streetlamps. Icicles hung from the edges of the roof, catching the twinkle of the colorful Christmas lights that Steve had painstakingly strung up a week ago, with the help of 6 year old Ethan’s enthusiastic, yet, chaotic help.

Each light blinked in perfect rhythm, painting the snow below in shifting hues of red, green, and gold. Through the fogged-up windows, the warm golden light of the Christmas tree spilled onto the lawn, offering a glimpse of the cozy world within.

Inside, the kitchen was a war zone of holiday cheer. Flour clung to nearly every surface—the countertops, the floor, and even the stool where little 4 year old Sadie stood, perched like a determined little artist. It dusted the tip of her nose and her wild curls, making her look like a miniature mad scientist as she meticulously squeezed green frosting onto a gingerbread man.

Her tongue poked out in focused concentration, her small hands gripping the frosting tube as if her life depended on it. Beside her, an array of cookies lay half-finished on the counter, buried under uneven layers of sprinkles and frosting swirls. Each one was a testament to her boundless creativity, if not her precision.

“Santa loves sprinkles,” Sadie declared with absolute certainty, her little face scrunched in concentration as she scooped a generous handful of the colorful confetti-like decorations from the nearest bowl.

The sprinkles scattered across the gingerbread man with wild abandon, tumbling off the edges and onto the counter, onto the floor, and even into the air, as if they were little bursts of festive confetti.

“Santa doesn’t want to eat cookies that are all sprinkles,” Ethan countered from across the counter, his voice dripping with the kind of exasperation only a six-year-old with a perfectionist streak could muster.

He was working on a star-shaped cookie, his movements precise, deliberate. The tiny silver balls he was placing on the edges of the cookie were perfectly symmetrical, each one spaced exactly the same distance apart, as though he were an engineer and this cookie was his blueprint.

Sadie, undeterred, shot her brother a sideways glance, her lips twisting into a defiant pout. “Santa loves all cookies!” she shot back, her voice high and firm, as if daring him to challenge her further. She grabbed another handful of sprinkles, her tiny fingers clumsily but lovingly adding them to her gingerbread creation with a look of pure determination in her eyes.

Steve, who had been quietly observing the sibling exchange from his spot leaning against the fridge, let out a low chuckle, his arms crossed loosely across his chest. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched his children, clearly entertained by the growing battle of wills between his two little ones. “You know, Sadie,” he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “I think Ethan might have a point. That gingerbread guy looks like he just survived an explosion at a sprinkle factory.”

Sadie gasped dramatically, clutching the cookie to her chest as if Steve had just insulted her entire artistic vision. “He’s festive, Daddy!” she protested, her eyes wide with faux horror. “Santa will think he’s beautiful!”

Steve raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, alright. Festive, got it. You win, kiddo,” he said, backing off, but his smile never faded.

You glanced up from where you were carefully transferring a fresh batch of cookies onto the cooling rack. You’d been absorbed in your task, the warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla filling the room, but the sounds of your kids’ banter had been too amusing to ignore. You shot a smirk over at Steve, catching the tail end of his playful exchange with Sadie. “Don’t encourage them, Steve,” you said, your voice a mix of amusement and mock exasperation. “This kitchen already looks like a bomb went off in a bakery.”

Steve turned to you with that familiar, mischievous grin that always seemed to pull at your heartstrings. He pushed off the counter and sauntered over, his presence a comforting warmth that seemed to fill the space between you. As he reached you, he slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you close, his chin resting on your shoulder as he kissed the side of your neck, his lips soft against your skin.

“Oh, come on," he said, his voice a playful murmur, "It's Christmas. A little chaos is good for the soul."

The warmth of his touch and the affection in his kiss made your heart flutter, but before you could respond, you heard a chorus of groans from behind you.

"Eww, Daddy, gross!" Ethan wrinkled his nose, his six-year-old voice full of dramatic disapproval. Sadie was standing beside him, her eyes wide as she tugged at his sleeve, mimicking his disgust.

"Yeah, gross!" she added, her voice just as playful, though her face was scrunched in exaggerated annoyance. "Get a room!"

Steve pulled back slightly, his smile widening as he laughed. "Hey, you two can't appreciate true love yet," he teased, raising an eyebrow at them. "When you're older, you'll understand."

You chuckled, shaking your head as you met Ethan’s wide-eyed gaze, his expression a mix of surprise and genuine concern.

"They're right, Daddy," you teased. "We'll have to save the romance for later."

"Yeah, later!" Sadie agreed with a dramatic sigh, making a show of fanning herself with one hand, as if the display of affection had been too much to handle.

Steve gave a mock sigh of defeat, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer for another kiss, this time to the top of your head. "Guess we'll have to keep it PG for a little while, huh?" he murmured with a playful grin, his voice soft but full of affection.

As you hold onto his arms that wrap around you, the warmth of his embrace grounding you, you couldn't help but smile at the chaotic love that surrounded you. The kids' teasing, the laughter, and the warmth in the room-all of it felt like exactly what you needed. It was chaotic, but it was perfect.

The kitchen was, indeed, a disaster—sprinkles everywhere, frosting streaked across the table, and flour footprints leading from the counter to the floor. And yet, in the midst of the mess, there was something so perfectly Christmas about it all. You couldn’t help but shake your head fondly at the sight of your two children, Sadie with her chaotic artistic flair and Ethan with his precision, both creating their own little pieces of holiday magic in their own ways.

You let out a soft sigh, your heart swelling with a mix of warmth and contentment. This was your life now—messy, loud, and filled to the brim with joy. The kind of joy that came from every moment spent together, it was imperfect, but it was yours. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

“I suppose a little chaos is good for the soul,” you muttered, leaning into Steve’s embrace, your back resting against his torso. “But we’ll have to clean it all up before Santa comes.”

Steve’s grin widened as he kissed the top of your head. “Deal,” he said softly, his voice warm, full of affection. “But for now, let’s just enjoy it.”

And in that moment, amidst the mess, the laughter of your kids, and the hum of Christmas music playing softly in the background, you truly did. You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas Eve.

By the time the last batch of cookies had cooled, the kids had moved on to decorating with gusto. Sadie was a whirlwind of frosting and sprinkles, her hands sticky but her smile wide. Ethan’s creations, on the other hand, could have been featured in a magazine—each one neat, symmetrical, and perfect in its own way.

“Do you think Santa will like mine better?” Ethan asked as he placed a gingerbread snowman carefully on the plate.

“Santa loves everything,” you replied diplomatically, shooting Steve a look that warned him not to stir the pot.

“He’ll love Sadie’s too,” Steve added, crouching down to examine one of her creations. “Especially this one. It’s, uh… very colorful.”

Sadie beamed, clearly taking this as the highest of compliments.

Once the cookies were arranged on a plate, along with a glass of milk, the four of you moved into the living room. Ethan darted ahead to claim the best spot on the couch, while Sadie grabbed her stuffed reindeer and curled up in Steve’s lap.

Steve held up a VHS tape like it was a trophy. “Tonight’s pick: Home Alone.”

Ethan pumped a fist in the air. “Yes!”

Sadie giggled, clutching her reindeer tightly. “Kevin’s so funny!”

You settled onto the couch next to Ethan, draping a blanket over your lap as Steve popped the tape into the VCR. The kids quieted as the familiar opening music began, their eyes glued to the screen.

The living room was warm and cozy, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. The Christmas tree lights cast colorful patterns across the walls, and the faint scent of pine mingled with the sugary sweetness lingering from the kitchen.

As Kevin McCallister navigated his hijinks, Sadie giggled uncontrollably at the Wet Bandits’ antics, her laughter ringing through the room. Ethan, meanwhile, provided a running commentary.

“They’re so silly,” he said, shaking his head as Harry slipped on the icy stairs for the third time. “Why don’t they just give up?”

“That’s not the point, buddy,” Steve replied, chuckling. “They’re supposed to be silly. It’s funny.”

“Kevin’s really brave,” Sadie whispered, clutching her reindeer as Kevin faced off against the burglars. “He’s all alone, but he’s not scared.”

You smoothed her curls with a gentle hand. “He’s smart too, just like you.”

Steve caught your eye, his expression softening as he smiled at you. These moments—the quiet, ordinary ones—were the ones he cherished most.

By the time the credits rolled, Sadie was fast asleep in Steve’s lap, her tiny hand clutching the fabric of his sweater. Ethan was valiantly trying to stay awake, but his head kept nodding forward, his stubbornness no match for his exhaustion.

Steve glanced down at Sadie, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Looks like it’s bedtime for these two.”

You nodded, sharing a glance with Steve as you both made your way toward the kids. Without a word, you reached down to gently lift Ethan into your arms. He squirmed slightly, grumbling under his breath, but didn’t protest as you settled him against your chest, his head resting on your shoulder. Steve, in turn, scooped up Sadie with ease, her small body curling instinctively into his hold. She mumbled something incoherent, her voice muffled by sleep, but didn’t wake as he cradled her against him.

The two of you made your way upstairs in comfortable silence, each step echoing softly through the house. It felt like a peaceful rhythm, this simple act of carrying your kids to bed, a reminder of how much you both cherished these little moments.

You reached Ethan’s room first, carefully lowering him into his bed. He groggily shifted under the covers, his sleepy eyes flicking up at you with a mix of curiosity and exhaustion. You helped him into his pajamas, smoothing out the fabric with a practiced hand before tucking him under the covers.

“Do you think Santa’s gonna like the cookies?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep but still filled with that unmistakable childlike wonder.

Steve, who had followed you into the room, chuckled softly as he leaned against the doorframe. “He’s gonna love them. Especially that one with all the sprinkles,” he said, grinning.

Ethan let out a small giggle, his eyes already fluttering closed. “Good,” he mumbled, his face relaxing into sleep as he drifted off, his soft breathing the only sound in the room.

Meanwhile, Steve took Sadie to her room. As soon as he placed her on her bed, she curled up into her blankets, her little reindeer toy tucked under her arm. She sighed contentedly as he adjusted the covers around her, kissing her forehead gently.

“Goodnight, lovebug,” you whispered from the doorway, watching the tender moment unfold.

Sadie mumbled something sleepy and incoherent, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into her pillow. “Goodnight,” she whispered back, her voice already soft with sleep.

As you and Steve stood in the doorway for a moment, watching your kids drift off into peaceful slumber, a sense of quiet satisfaction settled over you both. The house was still, the Christmas lights outside casting a gentle glow through the windows. Everything felt right. You turned to Steve, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “They’re going to be so excited when they wake up tomorrow.”

He nodded, his arm naturally finding its way around your waist as you both quietly left the room. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’ll be up before the sun is,” he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and fondness.

You smiled up at him, leaning into his side as the two of you headed back downstairs, the soft hum of Christmas music filling the air around you. It was a quiet night, just the two of you, in the calm after the chaos. And as the two of you settled back into the warmth of the living room, the love and laughter of the night still lingering in the air, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. Christmas was here, and your family was exactly where they belonged.

“Think they’ll notice if we eat one?” Steve asked, breaking off a corner of a gingerbread man with a playful grin. He popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly as if savoring the moment.

You looked at him over the top of the cookie jar, raising an eyebrow. “Not unless you want to explain why there are bites taken out of the cookies they spent hours decorating.”

Steve shrugged, his eyes glinting with mischief as he reached for another cookie. “Eh, they’ll never know. Besides, Santa can always come up with his own cookies.”

You smirked, swatting his hand away as you grabbed one for yourself. “I’m pretty sure Santa’s going to have a sugar high with how much we’ve put out for him.”

He laughed, popping a piece of cookie into his mouth. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. I mean, we’ve done all the hard work, haven’t we?”

You took a bite of your own cookie, sighing in contentment. “True. These are way better than store-bought.”

Steve’s grin widened as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I think we’ve officially earned it. We’re doing all the Christmas magic around here.”

You laughed as Steve pulled you into his arms as the fire crackled softly behind you. The glow of the Christmas tree bathed the room in warmth, and Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” played faintly in the background.

As you leaned against him, the quiet of the moment settled over you like a blanket.

"This is it, you know," Steve said suddenly, his voice low and serious. His eyes were soft, distant in a way, as if he were taking in the entire scene-the glowing lights, the quiet of the house, the warmth of it all.

You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What is?" you asked, curious but not entirely sure what he meant.

"This," he said again, his gaze sweeping across the room, lingering for a moment on the kids' cookies on the counter, the half-empty mugs of hot chocolate, the soft Christmas lights casting a warm glow over the space. Then, his gaze landed back on you, his expression tender.

“The kids, the house, you. Everything I ever wanted. It's right here."

The way he said it-so genuine, so full of admiration-caught you off guard. Your chest tightened with emotion, and for a moment, you couldn't find the right words.

You reached up instinctively, cupping his cheek, feeling the stubble there beneath your palm, the warmth of him as you held him close.

"You deserve it, Steve," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. "Every bit of it." You didn't need to elaborate. You knew what he meant.

Steve's gaze softened even further, a look in his eyes you could only describe as reverent.

Slowly, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as if savoring the feeling of being with you in this quiet, perfect moment. When he pulled back, he looked at you, his eyes filled with something deeper, something that made your heart swell.

"I don't know how I got so lucky," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for this. For us." His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you gently against him. He didn't rush it, just held you there, his lips grazing against yours in a kiss that was soft, slow-like he was trying to memorize the feeling of being close to you.

You smiled, your chest tight with affection. "I love you.”

There was a quiet stillness between you both, a peacefulness that wrapped around you like the softest blanket. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of Christmas music drifting from the speakers and the distant sound of snow falling outside. But in this moment, nothing else mattered.

You were together. The life you had, the love you shared-it was everything, and it was yours.

Steve's hand gently brushed the back of your neck, and he kissed you again, his lips soft, lingering. It was a kiss that said more than words ever could-more than any ‘thank you' or 'I love you' could ever express.

You had everything. And you wouldn't change a single thing.

thank you so much for reading! please like/reblog or comment if you did, it would be greatly appreciated. have a great day and a happy holidays!!

[stackslip]

i do have criticisms of chainsaw man part 2 tbh as much as i gleefully enjoy it, and one of them is that it feels so heavily built on fire punch that it must not do *nearly* as much if you haven't read fire punch beforehand. it's like half of a conversation and if you're missing the other half i imagine it must sound a bit like nonsense

[ki1ldeer]

I need to do a research paper on the correlation between me taking a chemistry class and me drawing Finn being sad

[boyfriendunsolved]

the new video was greatly needed if watcher had any hopes of staying afloat. unfortunately, this backpedaling does not change the fact that

1) high production "television quality" content is what they want to make

2) this content is evidently not what people want to watch (even post-apology i'm seeing a lot of people saying they liked bfu better than anything watcher has produced)

again, if they have a clear vision of what they want to make, that's great. but unless there's a market for that content, then it's not going to turn a profit, or break even for that matter. yes, artists deserve to be paid for their work, but art is always bought by people who want and have an interest in said art.

im an artist pursuing my dreams too, but i don't expect people to buy my niche paintings just on the principle that i am an artist creating what i want. if i wanted to make money from this and turn it into a business, i would take commissions and specifically create what other people want. that is what having any kind of artistic job is about, unfortunately.

it's great if what you want to create and what people want to see overlap, but that's not always the case. and i really fear this is the case with watcher and they won't pivot enough to fix any of their problems

[nana2009]

why does Dave drug karkat? Is he like…flighty or something??

buoy is he.

karkat is not the most compliant captive, see.... especially since dave doesn't seem to want to actively harm him and acts so passive most of the time, so even with the possibility of things going sour that does not stop him from trying!! unfortunately, dave knows much too well how to handle these situations :/

but since karkat is so persistent and loud, sometimes a buoy has no options u kno? ;T

[fictionadventurer]

Maybe I need to write Cardinal's Map so there's a contemporary book about the power of literature and reaching for a world beyond the mundane that isn't wall-to-wall inspirational platitudes with vague worldbuilding about the battle between the forces of good vs. evil.

[icewindandboringhorror]

a quite simple outfit, trying to use the little blue and white apron thing (which is actually a dress I think, that I just leave un-buttoned in the back and added an apron-like tie to lol)

[cultivating-wildflowers]

📒

[goldentigerfestival]

I love the vocal nuance in this exchange, but also posting this for my differences posts because this is one of the changes that infuriates me the most. Yuri didn't threaten Ioder, did not threaten him with a weapon, and just said he'd punch him in a lazy, half joking voice (half joking as in, he really doesn't want to hear that - that's just his way of saying so; but that's not the voice of someone who is super angry and threatening).

My other huge grievance is that this is a recurring issue between them in the dub. Yuri is pretty much always vocally rude to Ioder. Ioder has done nothing to wrong him or anyone and has only ever done good for the people where he's able to.

Yet despite Ioder being nothing but sincere, honest and polite with Yuri, in fact even happy to see him here and there, dub Yuri is outright tonally rude to him leading right up this scene where he threatens Ioder in this dark voice. Meanwhile he's actually just supposed to be… lazily telling Ioder he'll punch him in his Yuri Lowell way of saying "I don't want to hear that".

The dub really just wanted to turn Yuri into this dark edgelord and I hate that for my goofy, silly boy.

[hauntedorpheum]

first time people tell a content creator GIVE US MORE ADS