#finally wrote more than 300 words

[callsigngrim]

Teachers pet

Stanford Pines x Gn reader(no description)

@moronic-validity

Warnings: angst ,age gap, student teacher relationship. Student is in early 20s, non descriptive sex scene. Stanford is a selfish man. Kissing. Mdni

The new substitute professor was handsome. Stanford Pines or Mr. Pines was a few years older than most of the students he was teaching. Awkward and a little on the odd side. There was no denying his passion for physics,and it translated into the way he taught his classes. He always made his lessons interesting, often showing practical examples, and invited his students to show off their work.

On one such occasion it was your turn. You would be embarrassed to admit to him just how much time and energy you had poured into the presentation. He didn't have to know that the only reason you haven't dropped the class yet was because of him. His praises and fawning over your work,the insistence on staying after class to discuss your work more in detail, the undivided attention he seemed to give just to you. Is what landed you in this mess in the first place.

It started out innocent,he would make you tea and the both of you would sit in his office unbothered discussing the work and upcoming projects. Until slowly the two of you stand talking about your school work less and less. You started getting to know him,and he learned about you. He opened up about his aspirations and dreams. You became a confidant to him clever with your jokes and wit it became routine. Every day the two of you would sit and talk about everything and nothing. You enjoyed the time together. Talking and laughing. Until it  wasn't just talking anymore.

Ford watched you from afar at first,you were a promising student. But he could see that you were slipping, small mistakes you usually wouldn't make. So he decided to take you under his wing,gently guide you without making it obvious to your peers. So he gives you more praise,pushing you a little more than the rest of his students. Small things that wouldn't draw attention to you and leave you at the mercy of jealous students and teachers.

But then he had to go and invite you to his office after school. And slowly his resolve started to slip. You were younger than him and his student. He should have drawn the line he should have been a stronger man. But he was a weak man who gave into temptation. Everytime you would smile at him and show him the slightest amount of kindness he fell deeper and deeper into oblivion.

The first time it happened it was like any other afternoon. He was showing you a new anomaly that he had been tracking, and you much like anytime he spoke to you and opened up about the things he enjoyed, looked at him eyes filled with awe and adoration, and in that moment his last bit of self control slipped. He pulled you in his lips, searing hot against your own. It's like the thin thread of student and teacher snapped. And it was just the two of you,nothing outside of his office meaning anything to you at that moment.

He took your breath away and made your knees weak with his insistent touches and the breathless sounds he made into your mouth. He was firm and hot against you. His slight stubble scratching against the sensitive skin of your neck as he trailed down to litter kisses there. You should have stopped him,pushed him away, done literally anything else except pulling him closer against you moaning his name out to the world.

This continued for weeks before the two of you fell into his bed together. His kisses made you weak, his taste had you addicted to him. But it wasn't enough. You wanted to see him completely. Mark him as yours even if you knew deep down that he never would be yours. People wouldn't approve, they would say he was taking advantage. They wouldn't listen if you all but yelled at them that you were just as responsible for what happened between the two of you as Ford was.

He wanted to end it. The guilt was slowly eating away at him. He was supposed to be level headed and better than his hormonal students. But here he was just as bad if not worse. And he had to stop it before things got out of hand even more than it already was.

He would gently tell you that this had to stop. He already signed the papers to transfer somewhere else when your actual professor came back after fully recovering. Despite the fact that he had been offered a permanent position. He had to leave not just for his sake, but for yours as well. He wouldn't be the reason that you lose your place at the university because of his lack of control.

Everything would be fine. But once again nothing was as simple as it was supposed to be. You had dressed up a little for the dinner he had invented you to. And with the wine he had served the nervous tension had slowly faded. And you were both chatting and laughing. Dinner was lovely and soon you two moved to the couch. But there was clearly something that was bothering Ford if the large space between the two of you was any indication. He wants to tell you,you used to be the easiest person to talk to. He wants to spill his heart out to you. To make you see who and what he really is. But he can't not when you're looking at him like that.

So like every time before he folds and he hates himself for it. But god he loves you, so he takes and takes because this will be the last time he'll have with you.

The moment your head hits his bed,Ford is on you like a man possessed. The gentleness he usually handles you with is gone, replaced by a hunger you have never seen in him before.

“Be good for me” he whispers against your parted lips. Before his tongue is lapping into the heat of your mouth. His hand is gripping your hip holding you in place as he grinds against you. You gasp at the friction,hot and heavy as he continues to touch you in all the places that leave you gasping for more. He fills you and it's warm and perfect. The two of you fit together perfectly. You wish this moment could last forever. 

Monday morning when you walk in your old professor is back and Ford is nowhere in sight. You choose to ignore the pit forming in your stomach. You'll see him this afternoon at his house. Everything is fine. Only it's not. He's gone, the only thing left is the leather bound journal he left for you with the landlord.

In it you find a note addressed to you.

I'm sorry for not being brave enough to tell you that I'm leaving. I was a coward for letting things go on for as long as they have. It hurts me to have to do this but I truly believe it's for the best. I would have held you back from your full potential. I hope this journal can be filled with your stories and discoveries. Take care.

He just left. Like what you had meant nothing. You throw the journal onto your nightstand. You want to cry and scream but you're too exhausted. So you sleep tossing and turning until eventually you give up. Switching on the lamp beside you something catches your eye. On the note there is a strange stamp on the back

“Gravity falls Oregon���

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

One Bite for You, One Bite for Me

💗 THIS IS MY 100 200 300 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x AFAB!Reader

summary: One of the things you and Miguel bond over is delicious food. One day, you notice that your clothes aren’t fitting like they used to. Miguel is there to remind you how beautiful you are.

content warning: established relationship but they’re not married, 18+ so MDNI, non-Spiderman Miguel, LOTS OF MENTIONS OF FOOD AND DRINKS, weight gain, cycles, insecurity about body, alcohol, body worship, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up 🫵🏾), cunnilingus, lots of praise, a little Spanish (if wrong please lmk)

credit for art + dividers: Me! + @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

a/n: This is actually the first fic I wrote when my Miguel hyperfixation came back in full force. I based it off of this video and a comment saying that girls are usually the ones that gain weight super quick in a relationship. Please know that gaining weight is not a bad thing, especially in this story. Relationship weight can be positive and food is here to nourish your body! Also know that everyone’s body is different. Our bodies will react to things in different, unique ways. If you’re ever feeling icky about your weight/health, please take a step back, breathe, and know that you’re beautiful no matter what. There are also sources out there that can help you if your thoughts overpower your heart. Please don’t hesitate to seek help.

word count: 4.3k

To all my food-lovers and fellow plus-size girlies, kisses to you! You’re beautiful!

SPRING 🥭

“Baby!”

You grinned as you heard Miguel’s shout from the front door. His voice had a giddy tilt as if he made a breakthrough in one of his projects.

“I was finally able to stop by the new Jamaican spot before they sold out and look what I got us,” Miguel says before he slides the take-out bags across the table. “Ribs, oxtails, rice and beans, mac, and your favorite…fried plantains!”

You quickly untie the bags, happy to have a break from your research paper, and immediately get hit with the smell of spices both sweet and savory. “Oh my god! That looks incredible.”

After frantically digging around for a plastic fork, you were finally able to pull a piece of meat off the oxtail. It looked mouth-watering and tender. One bite of the meat and you’re immediately groaning, slumped in your chair. You nod your head and scrunch your face, watching as the juice from the gravy soaks into the pieces of rice stuck at the bottom of the take-out plate.

“That is so fucking good, Mig. No wonder there’s never any combos left by the time you leave work.”

Miguel just watches you eat with a glint in his eyes, happy to see you so relaxed and enjoying the food. He reaches into the second bag, pulling out two bottles of juice, “And to make it better, I got their fruit juice, made fresh daily-”

“Passionfruit and mango flavor!” Your eyes got big as you jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck. He knew how much of a juice fanatic you were, so this drink was just the cherry on top of the large ice cream sundae that was your generous boyfriend.

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled and gave his cheek a fat smooch. You patted his chest twice and moved back to set up the table, “Now, hurry and wash up so we can eat this before it gets cold! We’ve got shows to watch.”

“Entendido, I’ll be right back”

SUMMER 🍦

You and Miguel were walking hand in hand along the Cancun Hotel Zone, taking in all the sights. Miguel’s job had given him a promotion along with an extremely high bonus, so what better way to celebrate than to use his PTO and bring the love of his life on vacation?

Granted, the area you guys were currently in was a little touristy, borderline bougie, but it was all worth it when Miguel got to see your eyes light up as you watched the turquoise waves fade into white foam along the shoreline.

You wobbled a bit while clinging to Miguel’s side, a little tipsy from the frozen paloma you drank to pair with today’s lunch. It was a waterfront restaurant with a live band so the vibes were just right for a little bit of liquid fun.

The downside was that the two of you were supposed to meet up with Miguel’s family later that evening and while you were fine with the confidence boost you were sporting, you wanted to be more alert when speaking with loved ones. Plus, you needed to give a good impression to the relatives you hadn’t met yet. It will be nice to put a face to the names of Miguel’s childhood.

“What do you say we stop and get some ice cream?” Miguel suggested, chuckling at you when you grinned up at him, ecstatic over the proposed plan.

“You know me so well,” you said, arms reaching around his waist, face squished into the side of his chest. “I would absolutely love some ice cream. Cool me down from the inside.”

Miguel chuckled and kissed the top of your head. You were especially cute when you got like this.

FALL 🍕

“Baby, check this out,” Miguel shouted, finally returning to your table with your food.

The fair was packed full of people, especially due to the pop-up food truck festival happening that same week. You had never seen more people run to get fried turnip greens and loaded fries in your life.

Still, this was just another chance to hang out with Miguel. You really didn’t care where you went with him, as long as you got to see that pretty smile.

You look down at the table and see what he brought back. Before your eyes sat the most un-Miguel order ever: birria pizza and two walking tacos, one Hot Cheetos and the other Dorritos.

“Dorilocos, Miguel. Really?” you raised an eyebrow watching him try to steady the open chip bags over some spread-out napkins.

“Amor, don’t look at me like that! I had to get them because Gabriel kept talking my ear off about this new food truck that made them better than the ones we used to eat on our trips back home. I, for one, don’t believe that for a second, so what better way to test that theory than to eat it with my baby?” Miguel gave the saddest look he could muster and slid his hand across the table, trying to convince you to indulge with him.

“Fine, fine. Don’t give me that look,” you say, pulling off a slice of the pizza, making the cheese stretch as long as you can. “Just don’t complain to me from the bathroom while your stomach fights to digest something it hasn’t had in over a decade!”

Miguel pursed his lips while shoveling as much food as he could on one Doritto, “Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that? That’s a lot of cheese, babe.”

“Oh my god, some queso tears up my stomach one time and you can’t let that go, can you?”

“It was once and yet you were in agony about it for days. I think I’m allowed to remind you at least monthly.”

“Just eat your food and leave me and my iron stomach alone. We’ll see what happens between today and tomorrow,” you quip, pulling your phone out ready to record Miguel’s reaction to send to Gabriel.

Miguel takes a bite and just leans against the table, head slumped on his clean head.

“Dios mio, he was right. This can’t be happening,” he groaned, slightly annoyed that Gabriel wasn’t exaggerating. He was also shocked at the fact that someone even came close to getting the local snack right.

You giggled behind your phone, happy that his reaction worked in your favor. You zoomed in a little more on his face, capturing him smacking his lips and licking off excess sauce. He was so zoned in on his food that he didn’t even notice you with your phone up.

“Is it good, Mig?” you asked, mirth in your voice.

He looked at you ready to answer but his eyes snapped to your camera and started to whine, “Amor, please stop recording!”

With a small smile, you made sure to add the video to your folder full of Miguel. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You just look so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Miguel just mumbled to himself while stacking up another chip, neck heated over the interaction. “Here, just try this,” he said, holding a nacho close to your mouth.

You opened your mouth, just barely getting the chip in. Cupping your hand under your head, you begin to hum, the flavors all tangy, spicy, and savory. “I don’t know what your childhood Dorilocos tasted like, but this is really freaking good.”

“Just know that this one is only slightly better. By 0.00001% to be exact,” he said, rubbing sauce off of the corner of your lips and licking it off. The movement was muscle memory for him as he always liked to watch your face when you ate food, especially when it came to any nostalgic or homecooked dishes you never tried before. It warmed his heart to see you find comfort in his favorite foods.

“Well, I can tell you it’s 100% better than the ‘Taco Tuesday’ luncheon my job hosted last month. Nothing but unseasoned ground beef, endless black olives, and store-bought guacamole for two hours,” you respond, shuddering at the memory of soppy taco shells and your coworkers complaining about how spicy the mild salsa was.

“On second thought, this is absolutely a step up. Was the guacamole name brand at least?” He asked, peering up at you with a twist on his lips.

“I’m pretty sure it was a grocery store brand, so no.”

“Damn.”

WINTER 🍫

You were at your apartment in your bed, completely covered under the comforter with a fluffy blanket on top.

It was snowing heavily outside and you were freezing. However, your heater tended to make your apartment feel like a sauna, so you kept snatching the blanket off only to put it back on minutes later. Plus, your cycle was here. Your cramps left you lying on your side, rolling back and forth between the cool side of the bed and the warm side.

Physically, you were exhausted, but mentally, you knew you had so much to get done.

Christmas was just around the corner but you still had so many presents left to buy and wrap. Your job was doing the dreaded Secret Santa gift exchange and you were stuck wondering what gift would appeal to the stuck-up director in the accounting department.

You and Miguel were also hosting a small Christmas party amongst your friends, and there was still food left to buy. To top it all off, you were worried about your gift for Miguel, wondering if a silly little apron saying “Kiss me, I’m Irish” would hide the fact that you spent a ridiculous amount of money on some new tech he was eyeing.

You heard the apartment door open and close.

Knowing it was Miguel, you groan out dramatically.

He opens the bedroom door and peaks inside, “Baby?”

You just groan out again, “Everything hurts, Miggy.”

He comes up to bed and sits on the edge, “I know, amor. I’m sorry.” He bends down to kiss your head. “Want me to plug up the heat pack?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into his hands. When he gets up to grab the pack, you whine at his absence.

“I know, I know. I’m coming back,” he says, voice soothing.

Instead of turning the pack on, he removes your covers and sits back down on the edge. You shiver a little bit and he’s quick to cover your body with his, rubbing the top of your head as he kisses your temple.

“Are you feeling too bad to eat something for me?” Miguel asks, the timber of his voice settling you.

You shake your head and lean in closer to him.

“I think I want some food,” you reply, squeezing his body. “I haven’t eaten anything yet.”

Miguel tuts as he sits up and pulls you up with him, “That’s no good, baby. You have to eat so you can feel better. Your body needs it.”

You groan again and put your face in his neck, not wanting to move.

“Come on,” Miguel says, rubbing you from your back to your leg. “I got you some soup and a grilled cheese.”

“Did you get the stuff for the hot chocolate bar? For the party?” you whisper.

“Mm hm. Jumbo marshmallows included.”

You nuzzle his neck before you look at him, “Carry me to the kitchen?”

He makes a swift move to wrap your legs around his body and hike you up.

He gets up and holds you close, heading to the kitchen, “Let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

SPRING 🍇

The short spring break trip that Miguel surprised you with has been lovely. Miguel woke you with kisses down your body, taking you to the hilt with his mouth alone. You had to muffle your cries as to not disturb the neighbors in the inn. As his tongue danced inside of you, you gripped his hair with one hand and his head with your thighs. Miguel wouldn’t want it any other way.

After his first course, Miguel treated you to breakfast on the balcony. You two enjoyed looking over the horizon as you ate yogurt parfaits and fluffy omelets.

Later on, the two of you enjoyed a few tours of the vineyard and the city. The sights were beyond compare and the atmosphere was serene.

“Thank you so much for this Miguel,” you say, interrupting the silence.

“Anything for my lady,” he says back. “You’re doing great work this semester so you need the break.” Miguel stopped and turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You leaned up and kissed him, hands warm on the sides of his face.

You both started to makeout for so long that Miguel forgot about the massage he had planned for you before tonight’s farm-to-table dinner.

Needless to say, he laid you out on your bed and oiled your body down. Your head was in your arms as rubbed his hands up and down your back. His hands were heaven and you felt like puddy by the time he flipped you over.

After he massaged your inner thighs he pounded you into the mattress. Something you’re sure the hired masseuse would never be able to do.

Miguel joked and called it the Miguel Magic Massage when you asked if he offered this special regularly. The price? Being his cariño, his amor, his sweetheart.

By the time dinner started, you were glowing. You felt adored and the courses were amazing.

Miguel made sure everyone knew you were his. His hand never left your thigh the entire meal, staring down the older men sitting at the end table who were looking a little too long at the dip of your dress.

You were oblivious, feeding Miguel bites occasionally and humming at how fresh and delicious everything was.

After the last course was over, the men came to you all’s side of the table quickly. All of them started to make conversation with you, plugging in their businesses, and stuffing their business cards in your hands.

It was as if Miguel was invisible. He scowls deeper when they let out hearty laughs at something you said.

“Are you fellas here with your wives?” Miguel asked loudly, completely irritated. “My wife and I have really enjoyed our time here. It’s a beautiful place for couples.”

Some of the men went red in the face flustered at Miguel catching their scheme. Others just scowled, pissed off at being interrupted.

None of them could answer his question.

You looked at Miguel, eyes heavy and relaxed.

“You gentlemen have a great night,” you said, putting your hand in Miguel’s as he guided you to the exit.

“Your wife, huh?” you asked, core on fire. It was hot watching Miguel get so worked up over you.

“Baby, they were looking at you like you were some fresh meat. Like I wasn’t even sitting there,” he grumbled.

“One of them already offered to bring me on a cruise. He’s staying right next to us,” you say, standing outside your room as Miguel swipes his card at the door. You walked your fingers up his chest, heated over the grit you could see from his profile.

He was oh so upset.

“He’s next to us? Right here?” Miguel asked, voice low.

You nodded as you bit your lip, arm around his neck.

Miguel picked you up and dragged you to the bed. You giggled a little to yourself as he plopped you down. Mission accomplished. Silently, you thank those older men. If it weren’t for their overconfidence, Miguel wouldn’t have been tearing at your clothes like he us right now.

Miguel kept you up almost that whole night, making sure that the neighbors heard your cries. Those old geezers were sure to know his name by the next morning. Buying you a ring wasn’t enough. He needed a bat.

It was all worth it to see the tired and flushed looks of their faces when you all checked out the next day.

SUMMER 🍯

“What the fuck,” you mumble, looking down at the pair of jeans you were trying to put on.

It was early morning. You had a family reunion that you and Miguel would take a bit of a drive to get to.

You made sure that everything was packed the following night. Some clothes to stay for a few days, a few snacks for the road, a book for you to catch up on, and even a crossword puzzle book for Miguel.

You planned ahead. You were diligent. So why is it that when everything else is going right, your pants decide not to button up?

You pulled at the flaps once more, trying your hardest to connect the button with the hole. It fails as they slip from your grasp. You try again, sucking in your stomach as much as you could. You get the button to snap in this time, but it’s digging unbearably into your skin. The zipper fights against you as you try to pull it up.

You huff out in frustration and the pants snap open again.

Defeated, you let out a watery sigh and look in the mirror.

Your stomach was bigger than you last remembered, fupa a little more prominent. Your thighs were also a little thicker, the jeans hugging them a little tight. Your breasts looked a little big in your shirt. The family name stretches a bit more across your bust than the original design intended. Even your face was a little chubbier than normal. When was the last time your jaw was like this? High school?

When did you get like this?

You felt your throat start to burn, a sob building in your system. You’ve always been fine with your body, loving the dips and curves. Adoring your flaws and finding beauty in what society decides is not worthy.

You knew this. You knew that you were beautiful. Why was it so hard to get that thought into your conscience?

You felt the tears roll down as you peeled the jeans off of your legs. They were especially tight at your hips and you wondered how you even forced them past in the first place.

You didn’t know what to do. It was so hot outside, so you needed something comfortable, but those jeans…you had your mind set to wear those jeans.

You rummage through your closet in frustration, pushing and pulling the clothes across the rack.

By the time Miguel found you, you were squatting in the closet, hot tears covering your face.

“Babe, it’s been almost 30 minutes and we need to head out before the work traffic starts-”

Miguel stopped in the doorway as he noticed the state of the closet, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? ¿Que pasó, cariño?”

You wipe furiously at your face, sniffling loud as you hear Miguel push clothes to the side to get to you.

“My pants don’t fit. I don’t think anything else will fit either,” you say, stuttering out your words as Miguel gets to your side.

You let him pull you up into a standing position. You felt defeated.

Miguel looked at you and wiped away the tears that you missed. You feel horrible as your face scrunches up again, tears forming in your eyes.

“No, no, no,” Miguel says, hugging you close. “Listen to me. I know that this feels like a lot, but this is normal. Your body will always change with you. You’re still the same beautiful, gorgeous woman I met years ago and that’s not changing because you got some extra hips, baby.”

“But Miguel,” you say, voice so sad. “I feel like I just got those pants. And. Nothing else in here goes with this shirt. I’m scared that nothing else will fit-”

“And if that’s the case, I’ll buy you new clothes,” Miguel says, pressing kisses over your face. “If these clothes mean that much to you, I’ll take you to the gym. Let me work out with you, but until then, I’m loving your body as is.”

You stare at Miguel, heart beating at his revelation. He stared right back at you, daring you to question or challenge his words.

“Don’t beat yourself up over something like this. If anyone has ever let you feel insecure about your body, they’re an ass, let me deal with them. If I ever do anything to make you feel insecure, tell me. Yell at me. Question me, because as far as I’m concerned, that’s not me.”

He hiked you up on the closet island in the middle of the room. You shiver a bit as your naked legs hit the wood.

He leans closer, placing his hands on the side of you, “Now, let’s think. Don’t you have a pair of cargo shorts that match the ones I’m wearing right now?”

You whisper out a yes.

“Would you be ok with wearing those? I’m sure they fit perfectly.”

You say yes again, head leaning onto his. You could accessorize it perfectly. It would make a great couple’s look.

Miguel knew this much, he just had to get you to see it.

“I love you, ok?” he says, voice clear.

“I love you, too. Thank you,” you say.

“Anything for my girl,” Miguel says. “My beautiful girl. She’s just for me. I can’t believe it.”

Your heart beats faster as he starts to kiss down your body.

“Her face is so lovely.” A kiss to your cheek and your lips.

“She’s always working so hard.” A kiss to your neck and your collarbone. He pulls your shirt over your head.

“She makes me so happy.” A suck to your breasts as he unclasps your bra.

“Her body is beyond comparison.” A trail of kisses down your stomach, your belly twitching as his breath twinkles on along your skin. “Soft. Amazing. Irresistible.”

“Her thighs are my earmuffs.” A caress to your inner thighs. Your legs snap a bit, ticklish at his ministrations.

“Miguel?” you whimper out.

“I have to relax you before this ride. Can’t have you upset,” he says, kissing his way up your thighs to your panties. “May I?”

You nod your head, fingers grasping at nothing but then a flat surface.

Miguel was swift. He pulled your underwear down and kissed at your clit. You could only hold tight as he pulled your body forward and dove in.

It wasn’t long before you were shaking like a leaf. Miguel sucked at you for minutes, pulling a long orgasm out of your system.

He kneaded your thighs as you trembled around his tongue, humming as your legs squeezed tighter. That was the queue for him to go further, so he added his fingers to the mix, moving his mouth up so that his fingers could pump in and out of you.

It took all of your strength not to let your body drop off the other side of the island.

“Miggy, please,” you wailed. You wanted more.

Miguel looked up at you whining above him. You pull your legs up, holding your hands under your thighs, practically begging for him.

Miguel kissed up your body again. He was swift with removing his clothes. You still had to have these clothes fresh for later and Miguel was about to wear you out.

He moved to push himself inside of you, grunting as you gripped him.

He replaced your hands with his and pulled your legs up by his head. You balanced yourself on the island as he slowly started to thrust.

“So good. Just for me,” Miguel said, watching as your body moved with his movement. “Perfect. And all mine.”

You remained quiet, whimpering softly as he dragged against you.

“You heard me, hermosa?” Miguel said. “You’re beautiful. C’mon. Say it for me.”

“I’m,” you stopped, mind foggy. You didn’t know how you were supposed to respond when he was going so deep.

“Say it.”

You cried out as he snapped harder, “I’m beautiful.”

“That’s right baby,” Miguel praises you, bending further to give you a kiss. “So amazing.”

He praised you until you finished, squeezing at any of you that he got his hands. By the time he was done, your arms felt like jelly from holding you up.

He carried you to the bathroom for a quick shower, never stopping his reassurances of you.

You guys made it in the car an hour and a half off schedule, but it was worth it for the uplifted way you carried yourself throughout the day.

It was worth it to see you happy and healthy.

By the time you made it to the reunion, it was like you were born anew. You greeted your family with smiles and laughter. Miguel couldn’t help but to cheese watching you do your thing.

He felt his heart soar as you caught up with family. Your smile was the biggest as you were out on the floor line dancing your heart out. He was right up behind you when Outstanding came on. The song was really a declaration of how he felt about you.

You giggled as he crooned in your ear.

“You light my fire,” he sang, swinging your hips in time with his.

“I feel alive with you, baby,” he spins you around to him, a smile on his face.

“You blow my mind,” he pulled you out and back in.

“I’m satisfied,” you squeal as he spins you in the air and puts you back down to keep dancing.

Outstanding. You really knock him out.

Another season where Miguel adored you more.

Another season where Miguel wanted you to be forever his.

Another season where he made sure he fed you well.

Another season of you making his heart pound.

Another season of your love reaching to the fullest.

Miguel was excited for the next season with you.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading! 💗

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. Let me know how you feel! 🥺🧁

Until next time,

-Lauro 💗

[sysmedsaresexist]

Changing mindsets, from a Real Anti Endo™️

The Release of the (Pro/Endo) Golden Goose

I hope everyone from all sides will give this important, heartfelt post a read.

It's likely something you'll want to be aware of if you have a vested interest in syscourse and the validity of endogenic systems. Please give this a chance.

It's been almost three years since I started my blogs. Wow. I've been on tumblr a hell of a lot longer, but I really wasn't involved in the system community. I started out firm and loud. I probably inadvertently fakeclaimed (I went into this with the rule that I would NOT directly tell anyone they were faking, it was a boundary that I knew would ruin me socially if I crossed it, but I'm sure I probably did without meaning to), I name called and made fun of people and things. I was disrespectful to people. I invaded tags to get my message out there, though I was quick to stop once I realized I was making the tags unusable for the community I claimed to want to protect.

I learned very quickly what was appropriate and what wasn't, what I could get away with and what I couldn't. It started to become a numbers game, influenced by the risk of the post.

I made a lot of friends and a lot of enemies, and I amassed a following of over 2k. More people have come and gone from my little community than I ever thought possible. People made fanart of me, and I cherish those so deeply. I have over 300 asks because I struggle to delete the ones thanking me.

And the more I was thanked, the nicer I got, the more thanks, the nicer I got, rinse and repeat until I had trouble NOT empathizing with pro/endos. The more I was willing to listen, the more legitimate sources I came across that disproved my original ideas about consciousness. The people sharing the sources were more respectful than I thought they'd be. Things were starting to look a bit cloudy.

I talked to my colleagues about how they, as therapists, would handle some of these endos in their practice, and while their belief in the concept varied, kindness and attempts to understand was the consistent answer. When had I lost that kindness and understanding that had driven me to that field to begin with?

Colleagues, yes. For those who don't know, I have a degree in social services and counselling (plus three other degrees). It's why the current situation with the antis turning on me is so funny. I still can't get into the mindset of some of these new anti endos, I just can't imagine justifying that level of cruelty. I had lines that I wouldn't cross, and I didn't think people could be worse than me.

... That might have been a trauma thing, looking back on it.

So I got desperate.

I spoke to the actual doctors who wrote some of these papers all of us are quoting. Everyone was arguing the meaning of the words, so I went directly to the source.

Dr Colin Ross, who wrote about endogenous multiplicity in the 80s. I told him everything-- about plurals, non-traumagenic systems, syscourse, what was being debated, how I and others interpreted his words, and what I wanted to learn.

Was plurality only trauma based?

And back and forth and back and forth we went, with me asking over and over again in different ways, NEEDING to hear that it was.

But I never got that answer. He meant what he meant. He said what he said and he meant it.

That plurality was not only found in the aftermath of trauma.

And I said nothing to anyone because I couldn't reconcile it.

Don't try to read between the lines, I assure you, there isn't some hidden meaning to be found there. I can't share all of the messages because some contained personal information, but my final response will tell you all you need to know.

(It did NOT, in fact, make sense, and it took me three years to "rethink my paper" that endogenic plurality wasn't possible, I did not win that conversation, it was a dying stance that was not supported)

I've been accused of paying too much attention to my follower count, but I can't really help it. It's really scary when you make a post and see a sizeable drop. It means a lot of different things. My posts have less reach and support. I've upset people. I've done something wrong. My community is leaving me.

I'm in a weird spot, where I'm blocked by so much of the pro/endo community that I have nothing to join, and the anti endo community, who I still wholeheartedly support, continues to leave me for -checks smudged writing on hand- being too nice??

Misinformation about DID is a massive problem, and it's why I still consider myself anti endo and support that community. I relate to them in such a way that I'll always gravitate to and empathize with them.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

At this point, though, how can I not be pro/endo when Colin fucking Ross says it's possible?

I've already written about how I'm really struggling with these labels, and I love the people that have stuck around while I struggle to figure this out.

I hurt when I see the people that once supported me leave.

My (online) world is shrinking. Literally.

That's scary.

When you've watched so many turn away, you start to wonder, with every post, where is the line where the rest are going to leave? Is it this post?

I just want to be me, us, we want to laugh at the stupid crap people say, system or not, I want to talk about my disorder, I want to combat misinformation, I want to have productive, fun conversations about ideas and concepts with people who disagree and have different interpretations. I want to play devil's advocate and get people thinking. I want to be able to comment positivity and kindness on any post I see, I want to feel comfortable talking to more people about their ideas. I sympathize with anti endos, I relate to CDD systems, I still firmly believe that CDDs and plurality are different, unrelated concepts.

My priority will always and forever be the CDD community first and foremost.

However, I am a hypocrite. I have gone straight to the horse's mouth and failed. I've seen so much research that I finally get it. I'm grappling with holding on to this conversation with Dr Ross, wondering what harm I could have prevented if I'd gone public with these emails earlier.

Since when has being open to change been a bad thing?

Since when has showing respect to lived experiences been a bad thing?

What am I? What label describes this?

How do I go forward from here?

What are you going to do with this information?

I promise you, hate isn't the way forward.

[erinwantstowrite]

hi! hope your having a good day/night/timezone/etc.! u got any writing tips (like how to not lose motivation/use up as much of it as u can while u have it, any ways to get the words flowing/“get in the writing mood” that have worked for u) for any of ur fellow fic writers? (idk if this’s been asked b4 (it seems like a common question lmao), but if it has, ‘pologies, lolol ^^)

i have a few that i've been thinking up to try and post!!

remember that you aren't on a deadline to write, and to take the time you need. no one wants to read something you rushed, let alone do YOU want to read it. and it REALLY matters if you love what you're writing. you'll kill your motivation trying to keep up with something like that!! if you only had time to write 300 or you had a great day and wrote like 3000, you're doing great either way!!!

there's a lot to keep up with when you're writing, and you have to remember and understand all of it. if you're trying to write while you're tired/upset/etc, you'll likely end up with something you're not that proud of. (granted, art is art, and sometimes these emotions can create something beautiful or meaningful). take metal breaks so you can come back to your work with a fresh mind, and don't overexert yourself. you'll remember and understand more if you treat your writing time like you would when you're studying. sometimes i make flashcards to remember characters, places, events, etc.

sometimes i can get too analytical with my writing, or it starts to become flat? if that makes sense? meaning, like... i'm putting words on paper rather than delving into the story. too many "they felt this way" and not enough "Character A turns to face the man that had changed their entire life with the single shot of a bullet, careless to what damage he could have caused. It's haunting to see that the man is simply that: a man. Not a monster as they had imagined, laying awake at night and wondering what their father had seen in his final moments. He's just a man." what helps with this is putting myself into the shoes of a narrator, remembering that i am telling the story as if i already know what's happening (even if I don't know where I'm going with a scene yet). i imagine that my reader is right there next to me and i'm telling them the story in real time like we're sitting around a campfire telling ghost stories, or that i'm the quirky narrator of a book they just picked up.

During times where i'm losing inspiration or feel like i'm in a loop, i like to go back to my favorite medias and spend some time with them. i recently rewatched Gravity Falls, the Sea Beast, and the Adam Project, and it was a fun mental break that got me into the writing mood. i try to find similar media to what i'm writing at that time. if i want a scene focused on funny banter or a comedic effect, i read or watch comedy. if i want to write a scary scene, i'll watch a horror movie. etc etc. "studying" your favorite media and putting yourself into your fav writer's writing shoes is a great way to improve your own writing. think about why that joke was funny, what the set up was that made it that way, and if it would have been a different joke if another character said it (Gravity Falls is one of the best media you can use for this, but really, reading mysteries in general can help)

physical exercise, if you can. getting your blood flowing and treating your body well!! when i was in band, we used to do "body warm ups" set to music, and i still do them to this day. it gets me awake and alert while also letting me listen to fun music before i write

[msmk11]

James Potter x fem!reader

WC:

CW: none

Summary: your workout partner, James, encourages you to push yourself

A/n: wrote this to convince myself to work out today lol. it worked.

- - - - - -

“James, I don’t think I can do it,” you admit as you watch your gym partner add another 5 pounds to each side of the bar, “It’s gonna be too heavy, especially this late in our workout.”

He looks over at you as he clips the weights into place, “I don’t think you know your own strength. You’re 100% capable.”

You huff and eye the bar suspiciously, “I think you’re too confident in me. I also think you’re biased Mr. Can-lift-300-pounds-easily.”

“You forget that you used to doubt me when I said you could even lift the bar. Now look at you,” he reminds you, giving you that smug look that says he already knows he’s won.

“Well I- I,” you splutter, “I was an amateur back then. I didn’t know what I was talking about, so you can’t use that against me.”

James only rolls his eyes at you, “well technically speaking, you’re still an amateur in comparison to me. So I think I know what’s best!”

The cocky smirk he wears really makes you wanna punch him, but only because you’re bitter that he’s right. You’re also bitter that he knows you know he’s right.

Stupid.

You glare at him over your water bottle as you take a long sip of ice cold water. He only raises his eyebrows at you unimpressed.

“Stop dilly dallying princess, and get your ass on that bench.”

You can groan and grumble all you want, but James doesn’t budge, taut muscles accentuated by his crossed arms. You sit down on the bench and carefully lower yourself onto your back, trying not to hit your head on the bar. You shuffle backwards a little so that your arms are in the right place, and ignore the little chuckle James lets out as you do.

You lay there for a second, arms crossed as you glare at the bar.

“Unless you have secret telekinesis powers, that bar isn’t gonna move itself,” James says from above you.

He’s standing by your head looking down at you, amusement playing at his lips and dark brown curls falling into his face.

“Oh I do have them, they just don’t work when you’re around. So if you go stand somewhere else, then I can lift the bar.”

He taps your nose playfully and you flinch away, “seems pretty convenient, don’t you think?”

You sigh and shrug your shoulders, “I don’t make the rules.”

“Come on, love,” James pleads, “just gimme one.”

You know even your puppy eyes won’t work on him this time so you finally concede, “okayyyy. Spot me?”

He grins boyishly at you and you think he looks rather pretty, “always.”

You take a deep, calming breath, pumping air into your lungs, and grip the metal bar above you. James’ steady hands hover near yours as you tighten your muscles and push the bar upward. You’re surprised when it comes off the rack easier than you’d anticipated, and you adjust your fingers naturally. Slowly, you lower the bar to your chest.

“There you go, love. Doing so good already.”

His praises boost your confidence, and you’re determined to keep going, just to hear those pretty words fall past his lips once more. You inhale sharply as you push the bar up from your chest.

“One,” James murmurs.

You lower the bar down again and push it up with similar ease, your determination growing with each rep.

“Two, good.”

The third rep goes up similarly easily, but this time your elbows pop. You try not to cringe or let your arms lock into place.

“Three. So strong, princess, keep going,” he urges.

As you begin to push the bar up for the fourth time, you start to notice a little soreness in your arms. You grit your teeth at this newfound sensation and maintain contact with James’ encouraging gaze.

“There’s four. Four more than you thought you could do.”

You only nod, too focused to speak. It’s on your 5th rep that things start to really get hard. Your arms are beginning to shake under the weight, and you let out a rather unattractive grunt as you use all your energy to push the bar up.

“That’s it, that’s five. Gimme two more.”

“James,” you plead through a strangled breath, “I don’t think I can.”

“You got it, sweetheart, I promise. I believe in you.”

You gather all your energy into your arms and push through the pain, watching the bar move into the air. This time, you’re the one that announces, “six.”

James’ face is equal parts eager and proud as you lower the bar back to your chest for your seventh and final rep. Your muscles are screaming at you to stop, and you want to so badly give up. But you don’t think you could handle disappointing James- not that he’d ever actually be disappointed in you if you couldn’t finish- and ignore your body. You push, push, push up, breath trapped in your lungs and back slightly arched off the bench as you lift the bar until your arms are totally straight.

At the same time, you and James both declare, “seven!”

Instantly, James grabs the bar from your tired arms and puts it back down on the rack. Your arms flop down onto your stomach and you lay there for a moment, panting in disbelief.

“Holy shit,” you mumble, “I did it.”

The realization truly washes over you and a big, beaming smile grows on your face, “I did it!”

You eagerly wiggle out from under the bar, still careful to not hit your head, and pop up excitedly.

“Jamie, you were right!”

You’re nearly bouncing with excitement and James can’t help but grin at you.

“I knew you could, love,” he cheers, sweeping you off your feet. James spins you around and you giggle, not caring if people are staring at you.

Even when he sets you down on your own two feet, he doesn’t let go of you, hands still glued to your waist, “look at you, my strong girl.”

You playfully flex your muscles at him before popping up on your tip toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. James sways you back and forth and you mumble into his ear, “thanks for believing in me, Jamie.”

And when he pulls away to look you in the eyes, his own so sincere and his face flushed with excitement, you can’t help but surge forward and kiss him.

James initially lets out a muffled yelp of surprise, but he quickly melts into your touch, gripping your waist tighter.

When you pull away, you have the decency to look a little abashed, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me I-“

James’ curls bounce as he shakes his head at you with a grin and then pulls you in for another kiss.

[daffi-990]

✨ Inspiration Saturday✨

Tagged by @monsterrae1 @disasterbuckdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @evanbegins @theotherbuckley @tizniz and @diazsdimples (who tagged me for Seven Sentence Sunday but I’ll do that one tomorrow.. even though it’ll be Monday for me haha). Make sure you go check out what they’ve all shared!

Sooooo I have no idea where this came from but I wrote 1.7K for it in one go which is big for me considering lately I’ve only been getting out maybe 300-500 words in one sitting. When it’s a bit more flesh out (aka when I write the dialogue direction) it shouldn’t be more than 2.5K so hopefully I can post it sometime within the next week or two if the inspiration sticks around.

Pretty much the gist of the idea is Eddie pulls away and tries to move on after the grave scene.

Eddie had thought for a while now that he and Buck were slowly moving towards a future together. A future where they weren’t just partners at work, but in all areas of their lives.

Buck dying had almost shattered that future but Eddie brought it back, brought him back with his own two hands and silent prayers as he got Buck’s heart beating again.

Buck came to his house when he needed to escape from Maddie and her parade of well meaning babysitters. It was Eddie’s couch that he fell asleep on, finally feeling safe enough to rest. It was Eddie he began to open up to about his death.

And it was Eddie’s heart that Buck unknowingly broke in a graveyard when he started talking about how a woman he barely knew saw him.

So when Buck officially began dating Natalia, Eddie boxed up the future he saw with Buck and taped it shut, storing it deep within the broken pieces of his tattered heart.

He tried to carry on like usual, but every time Buck mentioned how happy he was with Nat it was like a knife was twisting into the wound.

Eddie needed the wound to heal or he’d bleed out, and to do that he needed space.

So he began slowly pulling away. He stopped going out for drinks with the team, stopped inviting Buck over for a beer after shift and for movie nights (unless Chris specifically asked if Buck could come over. He didn’t want to deny Chris or Buck their friendship) and kept his replies to texts short and to the point that eventually Buck just stopped texting him unless to organize a time to pick Chris up or drop him home.

He felt like they were a divorced couple sharing custody of their kid, except Eddie wasn’t haunted by the memories of a life and love together. No, he was just haunted by the possibility he let slip through his fingers, plagued by dreams of a life they could have had together if he’d just been brave enough to speak up. He’d had so many opportunities, but it never felt like the right time. Probably because there was no right time. Not for them.

No pressure tagging: @wikiangela @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @thewolvesof1998 @rainbow-nerdss @puppyboybuckley @athenagranted @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @try-set-me-on-fire @devirnis @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @hippolotamus @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @captain-hen @bekkachaos @malewifediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings and anyone else I may have missed who wants to share!

[alpineglow]

Hi. So I read the Abby x tomboy/butch reader fanfic you wrote and I loved it.

Can we have more of that, If that's not too much to ask?

What about angsty tomboy! Reader x Abby...?

I would love to see it written by you.

omg tysm for the request! I'm so sorry it took so long, second half of my uni semester absolutely demolished me!!! but my finals are over so YAY! more writing

While You Were Out Building Other Worlds, Where Was I?

Ship: Abby Anderson x butch!Reader Word Count: ~300 Description: Abby takes an assignment. You're not happy with it.

Masterlist

You came back into your shared stadium apartment without a word. Abby was already on the bed, stretched out, with her arms behind her head. She didn't seem to notice you, not until you slammed the door.

The hinges rattled as the door made solid contact with the frame. Abby shot up, sitting upright to look at you with an odd expression.

"What the fuck, Y/N?" she asked, rather incredulously. You didn't regard her, other than a brief glance in her direction when she spoke. Frustrated tears welled in your eyes as you pulled at the longer strands of hair on top of your head. It was a more reckless attempt at controlling yourself.

"Hey, what's going on?" Abby said, standing up and crossing the room in a few long strides. She takes your hands in hers, warmth grounding you back to the situation. You pulled a hand away, wiping aggressively at a tear that slipped out. It wasn't often you broke down like this - especially with no warning. Abby remembered the first time vividly, when you staunchly refused to talk about the tears that streamed down your face. Even in the present, you still shake your head, and so Abby wraps you into a hug. You tuck your chin against her shoulder, taking a few shuddering breaths as her warm arms envelope you.

"Why the fuck would you take that assignment Abby?"

The question catches her off guard, and she pulls way just enough to look you in the face.

"What?"

"Why the fuck are you taking that assignment? You just got back, and there's plenty other people who-"

Abby's eyebrows scrunched together. On any other occasion you'd call it cute, but it pissed you off even more as she pulled away from you entirely.

"I can make my own decisions, Y/N."

"Yea, but I get a say when they fucking piss me off, Abby!"

Now Abby was the one who was mad, heat damn near radiating off of her body as she looks at you.

"I thought you'd understand why I have to take these."

"What? Because your fucking dad died? Abby we've all lost people," you said, watching as Abby begins to pace the room. She breathes in deep, heaving breaths, and you realise now that you crossed a line.

"You know what?" she said through gritted teeth. "I'm fucking glad I took that assignment." Abby stabs a finger into your chest to emphasise her point. Quickly she rounds your shared bed, picking up a backpack.

"I'll see you when I fucking see you."

With that, she stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Hope you guys enjoyed!! Requests are open.

[buckets-and-trees]

Congrats again on 300 my love ❤️❤️ so you may already know which AU I’m going to be requesting, because it’s my favourite story of yours (so far) and that is Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree!! This story made my heart ache and if you have the inspiration for it I’d love love love to see more!! I don’t want to restrict your imagination by being too specific, but literally anything with those two and I would die of happiness 💙💙

Em, I squealed when you dropped this into my box for the request fest! Partly because I adore you. Partly because you know I also really adore Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree. And partly I squealed out of terror because...I was worried I wouldn't be able to do any kind of follow up to this fic justice. But I took a deep breath and let that go and decided to just let whatever happen happen. I was also a little worried because when I wrote Cedar Tree, it felt very finished, so I didn't have any leftover thoughts to pick up and play around with, so I literally took that first week to just think about them and their story. And then... a lot of scenes started to emerge - stuff before and after Cedar Tree, stuff that was just them, stuff with the people around them.

This is where I landed for now. It's not the same as Cedar Tree - first thing being that it's told from Steve's perspective instead of the reader's - but I'm thinking it will make sense in their overall narrative.

This it the end of their honeymoon, a few weeks before Cedar Tree.

Title: The Thrill of Knowing How Alone We Are Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x female!Queen!Reader, brief Sam and Bucky Word Count: 1.2k Summary: The final night and morning of King Steven's royal honeymoon.

Content/Warnings: smut: vaginal intercourse/penetration

Additional Notes: The third offering to celebrate 300 followers with the request fest! While this depicts events before Fire Burning from a Cedar Tree, it does not stand alone and should be read AFTER reading the original piece. Song title inspiration from Better Love by Hozier, which is one of the songs on my original Cedar Tree writing playlist. A/N 2: This still is pretty arbitrary, but although I knew the original was a historical royal AU setting, I basically closed my eyes and pointed when I ended up saying it was medieval. I debated between medieval or Georgian/regency vibe, but NOW it's decidedly Georgian, which will be more relevant if/as I share more of their story in the future.

It’s as he’s on his back, staring at the ceiling, that Steve realizes he’s already deciphered the difference between how it sounds when you’re asleep, when you’re awake, and when you’re somewhere in between. He didn’t expect that.

He expected a lot of things after taking you as his queen, but there were so many small things that make sense, but he simply hadn’t thought of, like this – knowing so quickly the sounds of your breathing.

Ten days and in some ways he knew so much more about you than he knew about anyone else but himself – more than he’d known about his parents, than Bucky whom he’d grown up with and trusted else as his closest friend and advisor, more than his general Sam who he trusted with the security of his kingdom and his own life.

The betrothal, the brief period of engagement, the wedding, and the wedding feast had all been very public and formal. The moment the two of you had entered the royal carriage to make the journey to his small palace in the lake country for the honeymoon, everything was suddenly private and intimate. It was the first time Steve had truly been alone with you, and the first moments alone would have been awkward – he certainly hadn’t thought about that moment until suddenly the two of you were there alone – but you had clearly thought of the circumstance in advance and had been prepared to make easy conversation. While the first few minutes had been an effort to make conversation, they swiftly did progress to easy conversation. The topics had been largely trivial and unimportant, but the words were not stilted.

After a late and quick supper upon arrival, the two of you had retired to the royal bedchamber. Steve had expected a dutiful consummation, and duty may have called for the deed, but the execution had unexpectedly run deeper, warmer, with the undertones of the fledgling familiarity built over the few hours alone earlier. Each day the familiarity grew, and though there could have perhaps been moments that could have allowed each of you two part naturally, you both drew each other into extending conversations, going on walks or rides or visiting a new area of the palace together, continuing formally in the first few days until it became merely natural and the two of you forgot altogether the idea of spending much of the time apart.

Now he understood the nostalgia with which many referred to the honeymoon. It was a pity it was coming to an end. Two weeks ago, you were little more than strangers to be wed and fulfill your royal duties. Here on this final night, he could not think of it ending. Tomorrow he would go back to being the king again.

He sighed and turned his head to look at you. He wanted to reach for you, pull you closer, touch you, but the touching wouldn’t be enough, and he’d said sensibly that the two of you should retire early specifically so he could sleep and be well rested for his early departure. He hadn’t thought you warming his bed would be torture. He thought that it would be soothing and help him sleep. But this was worse, and the longer he listened, the less it seemed sleep would ever come to him. But he would not leave or send you away, it was the last night he would have this kind of closeness afforded to him with ease. He also didn’t want to disturb you if you were perhaps close to dropping off to sleep. Nearness was enough, even if it meant no sleep.

Suddenly you shifted, rolling to lie on your back, and you let out a long sigh of your own.

“Sleep alluding you, my queen?”

“As it seems to be alluding you, my king. I know the time is only slipping away until you’re required to wake and depart. Is my restless state keeping you awake?”

Steve laughed. “Perhaps, but not in the way you think.”

He rolled up on his elbow and places a hand on your hip, drawing circles there with his fingers.

“Perhaps I can beckon sleep for both of us in…other ways.”

His hand moved up to cup your breast. He gave a squeeze and brushed his thumb over your nipple, the thin fabric of your night shift barely there. You whimpered his name, arching slightly into his palm.

“Yes?” he pressed.

“Yes,” you pleaded.

While he reached down to pull up the hem of your nightdress, your hands went quickly to free his growing desire for you. Quickly he shifted his body over yours, nestling between your eagerly parting legs. He smiled as he guided his cock to your heated folds, happy to find you were already wet. He looked up to your face, and you bit your lip before reaching your hands up to his jaw and drawing him down to meet your lips. Steve devoured you with his kiss as he plunged into you, and you gave yourself up to him completely until you were both exhausted and sleep finally overtook you.

When one of his esquires woke him in the pre-dawn glow, he suppressed a groan of agitation. It is not the kind of king he has ever wanted to portray to his subjects. He will always be a dignified king. He was diligent in making sure you were tucked in with propriety before falling asleep himself, but he looks over to make sure your modesty is preserved this morning now with someone else in the room. He wants to kiss you goodbye, and while part of him wants nothing more than to wake you, see your eyes look up at him before he leaves, he refrains from doing anything more than brushing the hair off and away from your face with only the lightest caress. It would be silly to wake you for any more sentimentality. The honeymoon is truly over, and he only feels this consuming tie because of the unique circumstances of here and now. When you are both back in the capitol, it will be more normal and less sentimental. He will be himself again.

Downstairs in the hall there were simple foods ready for him to break his fast, and Lord Barnes and General Wilson were both waiting and ready to receive their king. Barnes would accompany him to Stark’s kingdom, but Wilson was there to escort the queen back to the castle.

“Guard her with your life,” Steve commanded.

Wilson gave a slight bow. “Yes, my king.”

Steve turns to look at Barnes only to find a smirk on the man’s face. “What is so amusing at this hour?”

“You gave that order as if he hasn’t been in your service for years.”

“She is the queen,” Steve reminded them.

“I will afford her the same safety and security that I have for your majesty since given the responsibility of this position.”

Steve shook his head, “You should afford her more than you do me.”

Without hesitation, he responded, “It will be done.”

Steve strode out of the foyer and Barnes fell in just one step behind him. “We need not rush away from the palace so soon. The official royal business of Stark’s expo does not require you so immediately.”

“This was the plan,” Steve retorted, “why would we alter course?”

“The sooner we leave, the sooner we can return to your queen,” he agreed.

“The sooner we can return to my kingdom, Lord Barnes.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

read more of the CEDAR TREES COLLECTION

read the next part: A SHIFT IN THE MORNING ROUTINE

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[thewriters-world]

I'm sorry but I discovered rosquez and then I wrote 300 words of feelings. Might continue this on ao3:

He thinks it's finally catching up to him. Everything. He sits on the edge of his bed, let's his bare feet touch the floor of his childhood bedroom (he's never been good at leaving). Remembers the ire that would rise in him as a child when his feet would skim the ground, not quite reaching where he wanted them to. His oversized shirt does nothing to hide the worrying amount of weight he's lost recently. His shorts hang low on his waist, to Marc that's the only downside of his excessive weight loss, having to adjust his waistbands, having to tighten his belts more than normal so a strip of leather dangles.

His bedroom is barren and oh-so cold. His walls bare, his shelves empty. He tries not to glance at the innocent cardboard box sitting in a corner of his room that he's too scared to frequent. It makes him upset if he thinks about it for too long. His father calling his mother, telling her to rid his childhood bedroom of off his childhood. His mother slowly and meticulously removing his posters of Valentino, making sure not to tear them, folding them into neat squares. Valentino refusing to acknowledge the shrine he had created in honour of him (wasn't it enough).

He should've gone to his mother and told her to rip those posters into a million pieces, into so many pieces that he forgot Valentino's face altogether (he's kidding himself). His mother's hands weren't made to smooth out the face of the man who had hurt him so. But he knows his mother, she wouldn't stand for disrespecting another mothers child like that, Marc tries not to understand, pretends like he just hasn't gotten around to throwing away his Valentino Rossi memorabilia (but he is his mother's child).

[cherrysurf]

when the stars collide | k.bokuto x reader

chapter 2; the day we meet

guess who wrote more than 300 words this time (me lol)

After your 11 o'clock econ class you headed down to the stadium to start preparing for the mural, the deadline was in 2 weeks, besides this being on display and looking amazing on your art profolio it was paying you a decent amount which was more than enough to keep you motivated. Your plan for the piece was to create a montage of the best players in the msby league (past n recent) and the stadium in the background, on your way to the stadium you headed into the cafe to grab a quick lunch to eat on your break. You make it to the gates and show them the id they gave you to come n go as you please without any hassle. It felt cool in a vip sorta way but it was just for work so it was whatever. You walk to the area where you're supposed to design the mural and set your stuff up ready to being, you brought your sketchbook as it had the reference you were going off of for this, you drew it in colored pencil not that long ago to really grasp your idea on what you wanted to convey on the wall. As you sit there on the floor eating while adding a few more notes to your sketch, you feel someone’s bag hit the back of your head “ouch?!” you say looking up, finding a tall buff slivered a white haired man, “oh my gosh i’m so sorry i totally didn’t see you there i’m in a rush right now, I'm sorry again. I gotta go head practice before the coach yells at me!” he says taking a small glance at you before running off not fully capturing you or what you were doing. “ugh how rude.” you said underneath your breath chalking it up to stupid baseball players being stupid and ignorant, sure he apologized but he didn’t take his time doing it, he just brushed it off how insignificant of him. You chose to calm down and not let it affect you before it completely ruins your artist flow, the next two hours you start the outline on the wall feeling accomplished by the ruff sketch of it right now. you pack up and happen to see the boys’ baseball team still practicing and you notice the silver and white haired man yet again and scoffed on your way out the stadium, as you drive home to your small but cozy apartment you can’t help but think about the situation that happened today and feel like how you did back in highschool when people would purposely do that to you all the time. It wasn’t easy being you, I mean constantly having your eyes on your sketches, not going out, and not typically being focused on regular highschool activities. So you have no friends really but you didn’t mind you were more worried about your future as an artist more than anything else so it was all going to be worth it right? right. you snap out of the moment and finally arrive home, you shower and get ready for the night. As you sip tea and do your regular classes assignments on your laptop as your white fluffy cat curled up to you, mango was the only real friend you had. Your mom got her for you a couple months before you graduated highschool and she’s been stuck with you ever since, and you didn’t live in the doors so you didn’t have to worry about not being able to keep her. She was the only real company you had and you preferred it that way. as you put away your laptop and tea cup you head to bed sleeping all those bad feelings away.

taglist; @heartmaddie @twiishaa @cretenu

[weaselandfriends]

Have you thought about opening a Patreon? I would pay a lot of money if it meant getting your stories more regularly...

My prose sucks, yours is spectacular. How do I get better at it? I try reading a lot, but I'm starting to conclude there's only so much you can pick up via absorption without some kind of formal instruction.

1. I'm not especially interested in opening a Patreon, and here's why. First, I work a reliable full time job that isn't too demanding on me, so I'm already financially stable. My following right now likely isn't large enough to sustain me full time, so I wouldn't be able to use Patreon as a primary income source anyway. Even if my following was larger, though, it would be a gamble to quit my job and sustain myself solely on fan donations. Ultimately, it would probably be more stressful for me than my current situation, and I could see my writing quality suffer under the pressure of needing to constantly output material on a monthly basis. On top of that, I'm not sure if sustaining myself on Patreon would actually increase the regularity of my stories. Unlike seemingly most authors (go look at Alexander Wales' Tumblr for an example), I'm not an "ideas guy." I don't get a lot of story ideas. The ideas I do get I nurture for years, slowly adding details to them until they're ready to write. Cockatiel x Chameleon was an idea I got in 2015 (published 2022). Modern Cannibals was an idea I got in 2012 (published 2017). When I am actually writing a story, I'm usually able to consistently output content, even with my job. The limiting factor for me isn't my available time in the day, but my brain. I appreciate the sentiment, though! One of my favorite comments, which I received on Cockatiel x Chameleon, went something like "You should be on humanity's payroll."

2. My prose sucked too. When I was a teen, I would write stories and my classmates would laugh at how badly written they were. In college, I couldn't even get my friends or family to read my stories. (I once described one of my stories to my grandmother and she said, "Well that doesn't sound any good at all.") At age 18, I decided to start reading classic literature. Only classic literature, at a rate of 50 pages a day, every day. I read all kinds, from all sorts of time periods and countries. I read everything from Homer to David Foster Wallace. And while I read, I wrote. I wrote badly. In college I wrote novels that pretty shamelessly imitated the prose styles of Faulkner and Cormac McCarthy. By the time I started writing Fargo (which is a story where I think my prose was still improving), I had written nine complete novels and had read somewhere between 200 and 300 works of classic literature. I didn't have any formal training, at least in terms of writing fiction. I was an English/Geography dual major, and from my English classes I learned how to close read a text, and in general I learned how to write an academic essay. In my final year of college I took an MFA-styled creative writing workshop, but by then I was pretty much beyond what it could teach me and I don't feel like I learned much of anything from it.

Other than reading and writing, I started editing. One of my later pre-Bavitz novels I finished, then went back and edited assiduously. I took a 100,000 word rough draft and over 14 editing passes pared it down to 70,000 words. That was massive for improving my prose, as it forced me to engage with my story on a word-by-word level. Every single word fell under my scrutiny and thus I had to grapple with how valuable, how good that word was. What I learned from that experience was massive for improving my prose going forward.

I think it's entirely possible for someone to improve their prose just through the basics of reading, writing, and editing. Julirites, the author of Fargo fanfic London, has massively improved her prose over the course of the story. It didn't even take her nine failed novels to do it, either. Be willing to experiment. Be willing to fail. Don't be afraid of someone laughing at you for writing purple prose. Imitate authors you like, that's the first step toward developing your own unique style.

[thewillofdeez]

Mihawk vs The Seals

Summary: Every year, hundreds of seals return to Kuraigana Island to mate, including Mihawk's nemesis. His name is Neil.

Characters: Mihawk, Zoro, Perona, Neil the Seal as I imagine him in the One Piece Universe

Warnings: Some minor language, bittersweet mood. It's not crack, but it's almost crack. Crack-lite, if you will.

Note: Listen. It's extremely important to me that you know three things before you read this.

1) I haven't written anything substantial in several months. I was hoping to get The Warlord and the Revolutionary final chapters up today, but this happened instead.

2) I have been heavily on Neil the Seal TikTok.

3) This is my first day taking Adderall. I wrote this in 3.5 hours, starting with nothing more than a very vague concept. I guess that means it's working.

Take that all for what you will. Should I have published this? Maybe not. But here we are.

It was another day on Kuraigana Island for Mihawk, Zoro, and Perona. The two young pirates had been living with Mihawk for only a few months. Spring was slowly starting to reach the island, the weather beginning to warm ever so slightly. The three pirates sat down at the breakfast table, when Mihawk heard it: A loud, emotional braying sound from outside. He sighed heavily, placing his coffee cup on the table. Zoro and Perona exchanged a look.

“What,” Zoro said slowly, “The ever-loving hell was that?”

“That is the worst sound I’ve ever heard,” Perona added. “Like a vacuum cleaner sucking up a small elephant.”

“The seals are back,” Mihawk stated plainly, already feeling a headache coming on.

“The…seals?” Perona asked tentatively.

Mihawk sipped his coffee and sighed. “Every year around 300 seals come to this island to mate. For the next two weeks or so, the beach behind the castle will be their mating grounds.”

Perona’s eyes lit up, and she floated quickly to the window to look outside. A number of large, gray-ish blue seals were already beginning to gather on the beach. “EEEE they’re so cute!”

"They’re not cute,” Mihawk shot back, “They’re a menace. They’re loud, they take over the whole castle grounds, and they shit everywhere . Once they leave I have to have a company come in and rake the beach like a giant litterbox, and I have to spray down the bridge and patio every day. It’s a nightmare. A loud, smelly, destructive nightmare”

Zoro was trying not to chuckle at his mentor’s annoyance at seals of all things. “Can’t you, like, do anything about it?”

"Of course not,” Mihawk replied curtly. “They’re wild animals, I have no control over them. However, I did try slicing one up to send a message my first year here. They didn’t care. Then I just felt bad about killing it. I ate nothing but seal meat for weeks. Got a nice rug out of it though.”

Zoro laughed at the absurdity of the situation, and Mihawk narrowed his eyes. “You laugh now, Roronoa, but you won’t be when it’s 3am and you can’t sleep because there’s a seal orgy happening outside your window.” Mihawk drained his coffee cup and stood. “Both of you, come. We need to check the seal-proofing on the castle before we begin training for the day.”

“Seal-proofing?” Perona asked, floating behind him.

“Yes, I’ve boarded up several of the lower entrances because if I don’t they will get inside the castle. The last thing I want is to come downstairs to find a pile of seals sleeping in the living room. Again.”

Zoro and Perona followed Mihawk outside. Numerous seals were gathered, mostly on the beach, but some were beginning to flop their way up the paths, and some were swimming in the lake. Mihawk walked confidently through the fray, watching his step as he went. Perona eyed them cautiously. They were much larger up close, and distinctly less cute. “Mihawk,” Perona asked cautiously as one brayed loudly at her, “Are they, ya know, dangerous?”

“For someone like you, perhaps,” he replied calmly, though irritation still laced his words. “They can be quite territorial, but generally if you keep your distance and don’t bother them, they won’t bother you. I recommend flying a little higher than you normally might to avoid any trouble.” Perona immediately obeyed, floating an extra few feet off the ground.

The three made their way around the perimeter of the castle, checking various entrances to ensure Mihawk’s make-shift seal proofing was holding up, and making repairs where it wasn’t. Upon the path, a seal blocked their way. It was easily the largest Zoro and Perona had seen so far, its enormous body marred with the scars of many years in the ocean. Mihawk stood before it, narrowing his golden eyes and crossing his arms. “Hello, Neil.” The seal brayed loudly in response, flecks of saliva misting the three pirates.

Mihawk only continued to glare as he wiped his face with his sleeve. “Move,” he demanded. Neil barked in defiance, rolling over onto his back in a move Mihawk could only presume was seal for “fuck you, make me.”

“You, uh…you named the seal?” Zoro asked hesitantly, again trying to hold in his laughter to not make Mihawk any angrier than he already was.

“Yes, I’ve named several of the more annoying ones. This is Neil. He’s my nemesis. I hate him and he hates me.”

Zoro placed a hand over his mouth, turning his back to keep in his laughter, but he couldn’t do it. He let out a loud guffaw, bracing his hands on his knees as he laughed. “Neil the seal?! You gave him a rhyming name? And he’s your nemesis ?!” Neil let out a bark too, it almost sounded like laughing.

Mihawk’s face grew red. “Neil, move!” he demanded. As the seal let out a series of short, mocking barks it finally obeyed, moving off the path and towards the beach, satisfied that it had thoroughly humiliated Mihawk enough for one day. Mihawk took a deep breath and continued down the path.

“Watch your step, Zoro,” Mihawk stated as they walked, without even looking at the young man behind him. Before Zoro had a chance to ask why, he felt his boot land in something squishy.

“Ugh, dammit,” Zoro lamented, pulling his boot from the glob of seal poo Neil had left behind with a thwack .

“Haha!” Perona taunted in a sing-song voice, “You stepped in seal poo!”

Zoro grumbled, trying to wipe the bulk of the mess from his boots in the dirt. “It’s gonna be a long two weeks.”

And boy was it! Mihawk hadn’t been exaggerating about the noise. It was exceptionally loud, to the point where they were all constantly exhausted from lack of sleep. Perona even attempted to sound-proof her room by stacking her plushies in front of the windows, but despite her rather impressive collection, no amount of plushies was enough to keep the noise at bay with the room’s enormous, gothic windows.

Zoro and Mihawk’s training was often interrupted by the seals flopping along between them, paying absolutely no mind to the two men and their large, sharp swords. One day they attempted to move their training inside to the dungeons, only to find that a dozen seals had broken Mihawk’s barrier, and were now mating loudly. Between chasing the seals outside and cleaning up the mess the animals had made, they got no training done that day. As they cleaned and mopped, Mihawk could have sworn he heard Zoro grumble something about “never wanting to see a seal dick again.”

And then there was Neil. Though Zoro had laughed when Mihawk confidently declared Neil his nemesis, the giant seal did seem to find a perverse joy in tormenting Mihawk, personally. As Mihawk defiantly took his afternoon tea and daily cigarette out on the patio, despite the noise and the smell (a holdover from his younger days, and one of the few simple pleasures in his life), Neil would flop his enormous body up the stairs and honk directly at the swordsman, one time knocking over the small table and sending his teacup shattering on the ground before flopping away, letting out short, loud honks that Mihawk was positive was laughter. Perona tried her best to glue the teacup back together, but it was rather leaky and had to be discarded.

Neil also enjoyed standing directly outside of Mihawk’s window and bellowing at night, and occasionally charging directly at him. Mihawk was strong, but he wasn’t indestructible, and one thousand pounds of seal would certainly hurt him. Then of course, there were the daily “gifts” Neil left on the front doorstep. They appeared in the morning after breakfast, so Mihawk had no evidence that it was Neil, but he knew deep down that it was him.

One day, roughly two weeks from the day they began appearing on the island, the seals began leaving, their mating for the season done. Mihawk sat outside with his afternoon tea and his cigarette, not making the same mistake of placing the teacup on the table twice, lest Neil see it as an invitation. Zoro stepped outside, leaning over the bannister as the seals began slipping into the sea.

“How do you do this every year?” Zoro asked genuinely. “I’m exhausted after dealing with it once.”

Mihawk shrugged as he took a drag on his cigarette. “It’s only for two weeks out of the year. It’s annoying certainly, but it’s a small price to pay for the otherwise silence and isolation of living here.”

After a moment of silence, Mihawk chuckled, a noise Zoro rarely heard from the man. “You know, one time I was getting ready to set out to sea for a Warlord meeting. A mandatory one, another one of those ‘show up or you’ll lose your position’ things. I got to my boat and Neil was there, lying on deck, sound asleep. I tried to get him to move, but he wouldn’t.”

Zoro grinned. Mihawk so rarely told him anything about himself or his past. He was automatically intrigued, always curious to know more about his mentor, even if he’d never openly admit it. “How’d that turn out?”

Mihawk grinned right back, as if they were sharing an understanding. “I took a picture and mailed it to Sengoku. No note, just the picture. Didn’t hear a word back from him. Showed up at the next meeting like nothing happened, but Sengoku later gave me the same picture back, framed. He’d thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen: a powerful Warlord of the Sea, trapped on his private island by a giant seal.”

Zoro laughed softly. Something about the idea of the Fleet Admiral gifting one of his Warlords a ridiculous seal picture seemed absurd to him. But he’d seen the picture on the mantle, he knew it was real. Then, Mihawk spoke again. “He’s getting old.”

Zoro turned to him. “You mean Neil?”

Mihawk nodded. “I don’t know how old he is, but he looks more and more worse for wear every time I see him. I’d wager it’ll be another year or two before I don’t see him anymore. Or perhaps this will be the last time.”

Mihawk looked out in the distance, as Zoro took in the man before him. He could never be quite sure with Mihawk, but he felt that there was a certain sadness in his mentor’s voice.

“You kind of enjoy it, don’t you?” Zoro offered. “The back and forth between you and him. He keeps things interesting when there’s no one else around.”

Mihawk shrugged and put out his cigarette. “I won’t deny that I find him entertaining, even as he annoys the hell out of me. Animals are remarkable creatures. So human-like in so many ways, and yet not at the same time. I know he’s just a dumb mammal, but….”

Zoro only nodded, understanding what Mihawk was saying. He thought back to the Kung-Fu Dugongs in Alabasta, who took so strongly to Luffy after he bested them in a fight. He thought about the South Bird in Jaya that he enjoyed bothering by trying to get it to look in directions other than South. He thought of the Humandrills here on Kuraigana, who, now that he had bested them in battle once, had become some of his favorite sparring partners. And he thought of Chopper who, despite his Human-Human Fruit, was still at the end of the day, a reindeer. Animals really were remarkable.

A loud honking sound broke Zoro from his thoughts. Neil was flopping his way up the stairs, and landed at Mihawk’s feet, looking up at him. Mihawk looked down with a raised eyebrow. “I suppose you’re leaving?” Mihawk said. Neil only honked in affirmation. Mihawk nodded. “Well. Stay safe out there. You’re just about the size of a perfect snack for a Sea King. Basically a blubbery jelly bean.” Neil let out a series of those short, braying honks that sounded like laughter. He locked eyes with Mihawk for a moment before flopping his way back down the stairs. Mihawk rose and stood beside Zoro, and together they watched as Neil got in the water and, with one last look towards the castle, swam away.

Several months passed, and it was business as usual for Mihawk, Zoro, and Perona. As Mihawk and Zoro worked in the garden, beginning the process of harvesting the year’s yield, Perona floated up to them excitedly. “Guys! Come to the beach!”

“I don’t have time for a swim,” Mihawk said curtly as he plucked some tomatoes from a vine.

“Ugh, what? No! Just…just shut up and come with me!” She turned and floated away, clearly expecting the men to drop everything and follow her. Mihawk looked to Zoro, who only shrugged and rose to his feet, dropping his gloves in the dirt. Mihawk sighed and begrudgingly did the same.

The two swordsmen followed Perona, who kept looking behind to make sure they were following, though not nearly fast enough for her. And when Mihawk crested the hill and looked out at the beach below him, his eyes widened in surprise to see Neil there, honking loudly in greeting. And not just Neil - with him were six seal pups, perhaps a few months old.

Perona squealed in delight, doing flips in the air. “Aren’t they cute?!” Mihawk could only chuckle as he approached his old nemesis.

Neil brayed happily, bouncing on his flippers and pushing the small seals with his snout towards Mihawk, who crossed his arms and chuckled. “You wanted me to meet your children, huh?” Neil honked in affirmation.

Mihawk, Zoro, and Perona sat down on the beach, allowing the seal pups to approach them. He wouldn’t say it, but they were actually quite cute. “Congratulations, Neil,” Mihawk said, his lips upturning in a slight grin. “Shall I fetch you a cigar and some whiskey to celebrate?”

That loud, honking laugh again. The one Mihawk had grown so accustomed to over his time living at the castle, the one that made Mihawk confident that even if Neil couldn’t speak the language of humans, he certainly understood every word they said.

Neil watched as the pups sniffed around the humans, eventually deeming them safe enough to accept pets, and one even crawled into Zoro’s lap for a nap, as if he’d found a kindred spirit in the green-haired swordsman. Then, satisfied, Neil let out one last bray, before turning and flopping his way back into the water. Mihawk rose quickly, going after him, not even caring that the surf was covering his boots. “Neil! Stop! I’m not a babysitter! I already have two children I don’t want, I don’t need more!”

Neil only turned and looked directly at Mihawk, and in that moment, Mihawk understood: this was Neil’s last journey to Kuraigana Island. He wasn’t coming back. Whatever may have happened to the mother, Neil was leaving his pups in the care of someone he trusted. They were still too small to make it in the wild on their own, and Neil wanted to give them the best chance at survival and a safe haven to return to, just as he had been doing for so many years.

Mihawk nodded and approached Neil, who was still looking up at him with glossy, black eyes. For the first time, Mihawk noticed a cloudiness in the seal’s eyes: cataracts. For how long had Neil had this problem and Mihawk hadn’t even noticed? Could he have taken him to a veterinarian? Could he have gotten him help if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with their cat-and-mouse game? Mihawk felt a pang in his chest as he reached out and placed a calloused hand gently on Neil’s head, petting him gently.

“I’ll take care of them,” he said, trying to hide the hoarseness appearing in his voice. “As long as they’re on this island, they will be safe.” Neil blinked and honked lowly, something Mihawk could only interpret as “thank you.” And with that, Neil flopped into the sea and swam away, leaving Mihawk standing on the shore with Zoro, Perona, and the pups.

Mihawk allowed himself a minute to mourn his odd friend, then turned and walked back to where Zoro and Perona sat with the seal pups. It was clear the two younger pirates understood what had just happened, and Perona had silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

“So what now?” she asked quietly, gently stroking the seal pup before her.

Mihawk sighed, picking up one of the pups and holding it out in front of him. It looked quite like Neil, but had a smattering of light gray spots on its fur. Its glossy black eyes looked at him with curiosity and it cocked its head to the side, taking in the man before it, before immediately peeing. The swordsman could only laugh softly. This was definitely Neil’s child.

He placed the seal gently on the ground, and it happily bounced over to its siblings. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to go change my clothes. Then, I suppose, we’re going fishing. We have six new mouths to feed after all.”

Zoro and Perona smiled, Perona wiping the tears from her face. They rose and followed Mihawk, and the six seal pups flopped along cheerily behind them, ready to explore their new home.

[annabelle-creart]

Outlier!Au One-shot. Part 6

"Damn!" Knock Out yelled, tired and about to go, but he couldn't go without that thing "always the same!" It wasn't abnormal that bots forgot their things at the hospital but it was frustrating because there wasn't a politic for that and usually the things were stolen by the staff or discarded, Knock Out removed the pen attatched to the small notebook's rings and opened the notebook, the caligraphy was kind of weird but easy to understand, there were a lot of fun facts and ramdom thoughts like 'tree is as old as my tutor' or 'it will rain again', they were written in order but none of them were attatched to each other, instead, in the free parts of the page the owner wrote other (even weirder) things. Fortunately, there was a name on it "Chase Steelhand... Steelhand?!" Knock Out was impressed, the last name wasn't something ordinary.

Last names are not just a way to recognize people but a symbol of status, and Steelhand was one of the most important on military status of all Cybertron, from that colony commanders, lieutenants and even generals were educated and ruled over the planet, but as far as he knew, the last patient was a police bot (maybe a detective but wasn't sure), how could someone with such an imponent last name could have such a boring and low job?

Whatever it was, Knock Out was sure this Chase would like his notebook back. Knock Out saved the notebook and the pen on his bag, the problem is: he wasn't sure where to search... but someone else...

Knock Out made his way to reception, meeting maybe his favorite bot at the entire hospital "Minie!"

"No" she replied with a poker face "and that's not my name"

"I have 3 choco-chip bars"

"What do you want?"

"I need to localize the last patient of the 300 room"

"Give me 4 and is a deal"

Knock Out signed with resentment, but she was the fairest dealer of all the building, he got 3 sticks from his bag "I only have 3, I'll give you the last one at the next shift"

"Fine. I'm searching the form... Chase Steelhand, that's a big name"

"I know"

"Whatever... found it" Minie send Knock Out the important part in a private archive, he thanked her and finally get away to mark the shift departure and go on search of the guy, because there wasn't any signal that could interfere with Chase's recovery, they let him go the last day after a week on the place. Knock Out used the GPS to search for the address... he couldn't actually go to that colony

But, the work's address was also there! Knock Out took the first train he saw on that direction and waited

At least it didn't take much time, in less than an hour he was already on the precint this guy worked, he opened the door with caution and walked slowly to reception

"Good evening-"

"Complaint or report" the bot at reception asked first

"Ah- no! I'm searching for someone, his name is Chase, I think is a detective here-"

"He's not here"

"Ah- no? Where is he, then?"

"Work incapacity"

"More specifically...?"

"He's at a funeral right now" another bot near reception replied, this time with kinder voice "his fellow died in action"

"Oh" Knock Out was out of words and only gave an emphathetic look, Turquoise if he wasn't incorrect "I'm sorry" Knock Out really wanted to get rid of this task but he didn't wanted to interrupt the poor guy now, like if he hadn't passed lots of things now "well, ah- thanks for helping me" Knock Out retired quietly, sitting on a bench near the place, he got the notebook out of his bag and opened it again, despite nothing had sense, it was like reading someone else's mind, which was even funnier... wait a second, the fun facts have dates, but the dates are backwards... of course! He's a Steelhand! It was actually an open secret that the Steelhand's have a deep ancestral relationship with Camians, and Camians write with the pages backwards! Knock Out searched for the last page, which was actually the first one! Finding a note, not like the rest and with another caligraphy

You said you don't like useless gifts, and you're always writing, so, this is not an useless gift

Happy birthday, rock-head

- Turquoise

Knock Out needed to get this thing back!

...

"I'm actually out of words, I mean, there were many ways to describe this bot, maybe insanity or maybe she just wanted to act like a sparkling, but she always knew how to make us act as a team" Steeljaw this time was at the lead, the rest of guests listened with sadness or just a decayed expression

Chase was no different, but he didn't listen, he was sitted far away on a bench, he already saw the burial and he doesn't have something to say, he's not required anymore, and is not like Turquoise would notice if he's not there anymore... but for some reason, that made him more decayed

"Ahem" Knock Out called his attention "sorry, I-"

"What are you doing here?" Chase remembered the doctor and asked in his neutral tone, which unfortunately was too rude for some bots, Knock Out only took it as a defense

"I'm sorry for bothering you but you" Knock Out got his servo on the bag, getting the pen and the notebook out of it and offering it to the bot "left this at the hospital's room"

Chase looked at it a moment before getting it with his good servo "thanks" Chase seemed surprised "I don't remember leaving it"

The vibe became heavy as Chase looked at the notebook with resentment, not even understanding why. He landed his faceplate at the notebook and sighed silently

"I, am... I'm sorry" Knock Out sitted and lamented

"Thanks"

The silence made itself for a moment, Knock Out thought it wouldn't be okay to go so fast, but he didn't had anything else to do or say

"Well, I, ah, I hope you have a good day-"

"Can you please stay?" Chase said it fast, barely looking at Knock Out "just a moment"

"Ok..." Knock Out was caught out of guard, but sitted again, for another couple of minutes silence made its way, only the sound of the distant voices were made

"Knock Out, right?"

"Ah- yes, I am"

"What you said the other day... it worked, thank you for it"

"Oh, I'm glad it helped... how was she?"

"She was a bot out of the box, maybe the craziest and strangest I've ever met, she talked a lot and laughed a lot. I will not miss how loud she laughed, it was irritating, but she was contagious... I loved that"

"She seemed brave, and kinda funny"

"She was... is weird to say it in past"

"That happens"

"Are you accomplished to that? You're a doctor afterall"

"No, it never gets easy, but it means you care, that's what keeps me on my pedes"

Both stayed on silence more time, and even if it doesn't gets easier, at least it gets better, that recomforted them

"Thanks" Chase finally said

"For what?"

"For staying"

...

"Chase" Knock Out searched for the bot around the appartment, finally finding him in the kitchen "what are you doing so early?"

"I couldn't sleep" Chase replied with a mug of tea "do you want some? I made more"

"Sure" Knock Out pressed his fist against his optics, the sign he was still sleepy

"Do you feel better?"

"Than yesterday? Yes, but my vents still feel heavy" Knock Outmade reference to his unfortunate seasonal sickness, he hugged the mug with his hands and took a sip, then landed his head on Chase's shoulder, which led Chase to kiss gently KO's forehead "your teas are the best"

"Thanks, but you should thank Mural for it"

"I'll do the next family dinner" Knock Out and Chase took another sips from their mugs, just in silence, no words or gestures, only enjoying the too early morning, well, Chase did, Knock Out was still half-asleep, Chase found it funny, knewing perfectly KO wasn't a morning person, for some reason wondering if his family was like that too, but inmediatly after thinking of it, Chase had an idea

"What if you invite your friends the next dinner?"

"Wait- what? No! They're noisy and doesn't have any kind of respect! Mural will hate them" Knock Out shouted with panic and surprise

"Why? I already met them, they're kinda funny"

"Do you actually remember how they treated you when you met them? They only interrogated you all the time!"

"I do that all the time"

"And what if Mural or Casing don't like them!"

"That would be unconvienient, but they're still your family, you deserve to pass more time with them"

Knock Out didn't knew what to do or how to react, and waited for himself to answer, he didn't wanted to invite them because he knew the only result to it will be disaster, despite how much he loved them, it was almost a torture to go to any place with them asking each moment if something happened with Chase just because they didn't trust him fully, especially since KO discovered his hability, it was really frustrating to cover that. But on the other hand, he really wanted to have a normal dinner with them, and maybe with more people, it would be easier to handle with them

"Ok" Knock Out sighed "if you insist"

Chase gave him a smile, one of those that are really cute and unusual on him, which made Knock Out said a little 'aw' for himself, Knock Out gave him a tiny kiss on his cheekplate "oh, I forgot something" Chase left his mug, coming to Knock out later with a tiny box "happy birthday", the ticket on it said 'happy birthday, Knock Out Kunzit'

"Kunzit?" Knock Out said with a mischevious smile

"Wait a second" Chase again looked at the ticket "Oh Pri- I told them it ended with 'e'!" despite Chase's clear frustration, Knock Out laughed playfully

"No! No! Is cute!" Knock Out couldn't put more attention to it, instead, he got his attention on putting his servo gently on Chase's cheekplate "thank you... Chasey Kenzit" Knock Out said playfully, expecting to irritate Chase a bit, but didn't

"Thanks to you" Chase said with tenderness

"For what?"

Chase kissed the servo Knock Out used to caress him "for staying in my life"

[psychhound]

ttrpgs in the classroom (part 3)

back with another ttrpg class update!! this post has been Delayed for a while due to grad school craziness but finally sitting down to type it. another one we DID NOT PLAY (my students were so upset) but read as a piece of art and had a discussion on in class

the game:

for our discussion we read what little the flames leave us by @sprintingowl

it's a game about loss and sacrifice where you embark on a doomed quest and lose parts of yourself along the way. the way this is represented in the game? whenever you push the narrative in the way that you want to, you have to set your character sheet on fire, burning away things like bonds with allies and what you're most proud of

the goal:

introducing multiplayer games, continuing our discussion of genre expectations, pushing the assumptions of the medium's restrictions, generating story ideas within a predesigned framework

the methods:

the students all read the game before class, then wrote a short discussion board post, and then came in ready for a class discussion

the discussion board post asked students to write 200-300 words while considering these questions:

How did it make you feel reading through the game?

How did this game challenge your concept of what a game is?

What do you think the experience of playing this would be like?

How do you think the game's mechanics would affect the tone of gameplay and the story?

What sort of stories do you imagine would work best with the mechanics of this system?

How did your opinion of the game grow or change when you looked at the character sheet?

What do you think the game must feel like from the characters' perspectives?

the results:

the discussion went well after i got the students to stop arguing with me about getting to take a field trip off campus to go play!! next time i'm gonna have to be Really specific that we Aren't playing this game before i assign it as a reading

everyone had very interesting things to say about how this challenged their ideas of a game and why. most of the students werent familiar with ttrpgs at all at the beginning of this class, so some of them were really interested in the rules-lite collaborative narrative aspect of it, and others were really interested in fire as a mechanic, and how that represents loss in game

most of the students thought that in-game, it would feel very tragic and high stakes to the characters, though i did have one who thought the characters may be very apathetic and checked out if they were willing to risk all of this for the goal in the first place

we talked about what stories the students would tell with this system, and we had a good mix of answers! the two that stood out to me the most were "murder house", where the goal youre willing to lose everything for is to merely survive the house, and the second which was "a princess leaving the castle", which we discussed was still very much about loss, but in a different way than the other answers of "bank robbery" and "wild west" that we got from a lot of other students

the first header of "it was a pleasure to burn" was also pointed out by a student, and we discussed the parallels with fahrenheit 451, and how the characters in the book lost more and more when they tried to grasp at autonomy and freedom from the ruling power of the story

overall super successful discussion day and i would absolutely assign this game again!! (with a huge disclaimer that we ARENT PLAYING IN CLASS SO I DONT GET SUED)

our first big essay is due on friday so i should hopefully be back with more soon!

[softcarebears]

delf update...

my hands were trembling and my stomach was growling for 2h30 mins and we waited for one hour to start since yknow gotta make sure everyone is present and just when i was about to take a bite of my bread the dude told us to go in our rooms..😭

ok so there were 3 listening exercises for the oral comprehension:

1.)first one, first listen:😶😵 - the story was so quick i was so lost...i only ticked the 2 final questions's boxes first as i found their answers at the end...when i was thinking about the answer for question one they were giving the answer for question two😭

first one, second listen:😃 - i was able to tick all of the previous questions and find the answers and clear all confusion i guess... i focused more...the person's voice was clear😛

2.)second one, first listen: 🤔🙂 - i got the grip of it better than the first one and found most of the answers right away...the voice of the people were pretty clear and audible

second one,second listen:😁👍🏻- was able to find the 2 remaining answers i was stuck on...# slay

3rd exercise ...

so the 3rd exercise was not slayful...this one had 2 questions each for 3 little passages...BUT THERE WAS ONLY ONE LISTEN😱

1.) first one... :🙂🤨IM SORRY BUT I WAS LOWKEY CONFUSED...😭IT WAS SO QUICK...some parts i heard some ...were a bit inaudible to me...but the 2nd question's answer is definitely right...don't know bout the first one tho.

2.) second one... :(ಠ⌣ಠ) i don't even remember what the text was about...

3.) third one... :HAHA...😔💀😔💀😔...WORST OF THEM ALL

i only heard gibberish...it was in and out of my ear bro...the tone of voice of the ppl were definitely different...it was 60% pretty inaudible to me and i was stuck with choosing the right answer for the first question...BECAUSE BOTH THE FIRST OPTION AND SECOND LOOKED THE SAME TO ME😔...so i was indecisive and took the 2nd option then scribbled and chose the first answer.

since my dumbass could barely hear shit...i missed half the story and was unable to know the last question's answer...so i just chose one randomly...

the writing comprehension was pretty good so no complaints..

the written production...

i swear to god i hated the word limit given...its the same word limit for o-level igcse...250 WORDS IS FUCKING NOTHING.

ugh so i did watch a vid yesterday the teacher sent and did memorise the format...

but now...i did my research...AND WHY ARE ALL THE FORMATS all almost right but there is something always different...😭💀...the teachers sent multiple but i only read one....💀

i probably fumbled some parts in that one...the formal letter's theme was relatively okay...yeah...i wrote 320 words at first...cut so many words but since i was getting so tired and and my dyslexic in maths ass...the math was not mathing so i kept on losing count...😔i was able to cut it at around 300 or a bit less...but its def more than 250..so i gave up and wrote 297 in the word bar💀🤩

k bye...

[giggly-squiggily]

*me just seeing your newest post* Headcanon to drabble event? Ooh, nice!

*scrolls down more* WILLING TO WRITE FOR FYODOR?! HELL YEAH! DOUBLE NICE!

Finally, my time has come as the biggest Fyodor simp on this Earth... So, you know how Fyodor wears that ushanka all the time? I headcanon that he wears the ushanka, not only because it's warm, but because his ears/neck are exceptionally ticklish and he really doesn't want people finding out. Keeping the headcanon in mind, can you please write a drabble for lee! Fyodor and ler! Reader (any gender)?

Feel free to decline this request, it's up to you! And if you're nervous about writing for Fyodor, please don't be! That time you wrote for him during the Candy Heart event was spectacular! You write him very well! Be safe and have a lovely day!

Oo, I'm learning new words today! :D Fyodor's pretty grand, even though my knowledge about him's fairly limited, I hope I wrote him alright!

“Are you cold?” You nodded at Fyodor’s ushanka. “It looks rather warm.”

“Hm?” He looked over at you, hand coming up to pat the warm material. “It is quite warm. I chill easily.”

“Do you, now?” It checked out- between the fur cape that matched perfectly, you were almost convinced that was his only reason. “Can I feel it?”

“Feel…?” He eyed you, suspicious. You reached up, patting your head. “Ah…why?”

“It looks so soft! I won’t do anything weird, I promise.” You reassured, watching his expression. Just sit there and smile…don’t show a thing…

“Very well.” He gave in, submitting to your puppy eyes. “How do you wish to-” He stopped talking when you climbed into his lap, sitting so you stretched above him. “Ah, I can’t say I dislike this position.”

“Shh, it’s the most ideal.” You smiled, reaching out to touch. It was as soft and warm beneath your hand, just as you expected. Beneath you, Fyodor seemed…motionless, like he didn’t know how to react.

But then your fingers wandered into his hair and you felt him ease beneath you, letting out a content sigh as you smoothed out the strands. “So this was your plan?”

“Maybe~” You grinned, easily pushing off his ushanka so you could really get in there. His hair was even softer than his hat. “Or maybe…it was this!”

Without any warning, you shot your hand to the back of his neck, wiggling your fingers. Almost immediately his relaxed state disappeared, and he stiffened beneath you. “Aww, what’s the matter? Is the great Fyodor ticklish?”

“Sneheheheaky (Y/N)!” He choked out, scrunching up his shoulders in a vain attempt to block you out. That only gave you more room to go for his ears. “Nohohoho, dohohohon’t you dahahhare!”

“Oh I dare.” You grinned, delighted to see him smiling so much. “Tickle tickle, Fyo~”

Send me a headcanon and character(s) and I'll write a short 300-500 word dabble for it!