#whatever. i'll just apply and worry later

[al-mayriti]

i love spanish conferences. for the london one the fee is £90 (£45 if you're a student) and i have no idea if as a speaker i also have to pay the fee or not. in this one in spain i'm planning to speak at attendance is free and if you want to be a speaker you have to pay a total of 10€ as fee.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

back pain. l Joel Miller

Summary: Joel had back problems, someone had to help him

Warnings: smut (+18), unprotected sex (don't do that), breeding kink, oral sex (f!receiving), Joel has back problems, Ann shows up, Hazel is mentioned, a bit of jealousy

A/N: like many of us i also saw ep 2 tlou2. i had this chapter already written, i thought it might cheer you up. joel deserves everything and i'm trying my best.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

It had been going on for a while. It started with discomfort after returning from patrols, but Joel put it down to the time spent in the saddle. Then the pain came after a nap on the couch or a long day at the stables.

You couldn’t ignore it when Joel groaned loudly one morning as he got out of bed. You tried to help him. You massaged the aching muscles on his back and shoulders, applied warm compresses to ease the tension. It all helped, but only for a moment.

“Ann told me there was a woman next door who did professional massages,” you said one night. You were straddling Joel, naked from the waist up, lying on his stomach, accepting the touch of your hands. “She’s helped a lot of people in Jackson.”

"I don't need help." he groaned when you pressed a particularly painful spot. "You're doing great."

"I have no idea what I'm doing." You mumbled. "What if I only hurt you more?"

"Don't care. I'm not going there." He replied, and you rolled your eyes.

"You're so..."

"Old?"

“Stubborn!” He patted him on the shoulder. “Your back has been bothering you for a long time. You should do something about it. You want a baby, so how are you going to get up for it at night?”

You shouldn't have used that argument, but it was the only thing that came to mind. You had been trying to conceive for months, but you weren't panicking. Whatever was coming, you were just willing to accept it. Joel's aching back was worrying you, so you tried to do everything you could to help him. Even Tommy and Ellie had pitched in to convince him to rest, but Joel was... Yes, stubborn.

You hadn't brought it up since that night. Joel had been busy renovating more buildings in Jackson, and you had your hands full as well. It wasn't until you met Ann, who was with Elijah at the store, that you found out something was wrong.

“I’ve been seeing Joel lately,” she said, stroking the boy’s head as he slept snuggled up to her chest, a scarf wrapped securely around him. “I asked him what he was doing, but he was acting strange.”

"Strange? What does that mean?" you wondered.

"I don't know." Ann shrugged. "Do you think Hazel asked him for help again? She lives a few houses down from us."

You saw Hazel occasionally, sometimes at the Tipsy Bison or on the street in Jackson, but you didn’t talk. You knew she always felt more comfortable around Joel, but he hadn’t mentioned her in a while. A hint of jealousy rose in your heart, though you knew that if Joel hadn’t told you about Hazel, it was just so you wouldn’t feel bad. “I don’t know. He’s been pretty busy lately.” You replied. “Maybe he has a job in your neighborhood.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She smiled softly and picked up the basket. “Are you coming over later? Shane’s going on patrol with two new guys, I don’t want to be alone. You know how it is.”

"Sure. I'll come."

You couldn't pretend that what Ann had told you didn't interest you, and where Joel was headed was starting to worry you a little. Every morning he'd say he was going to the construction site or on patrol, but you didn't really know if he was actually there. You didn't feel the need to check on him, because why would you?

Hazel entered your thoughts again. Maybe she'd asked him for help, and Joel just didn't want to worry you? No, you weren't angry. Just worried.

You were halfway through washing the dishes when you heard the door slam and the familiar heavy footsteps.

"Baby?" Joel's voice echoed through the house.

“Here.” You replied, dipping your hands into the suds and washing another plate. “Are you hungry? I have some more stew, Ellie and Dina didn’t eat all of it. We’ll have to start hiding food from them.”

You heard footsteps but no voice. When suddenly a solid body pressed against your back, almost pushing you into the sink.

“Jesus! Joel!” you squealed in surprise, pulling your hands out of the water and grabbing his arms that were wrapped tightly around you. “What happened?”

His low, deep voice resonated against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I want you. Now."

He wasn't lying. The hard bulge pressed against your ass, you swallowed hard.

"Now?" you repeated, bewildered.

There was no response. A low groan tore from Joel’s chest as he released you, crouching down and throwing you over his shoulder in an instant. You were so surprised that you fisted your hands in his shirt dramatically.

"Joel! Your back!" you chuckled as he headed towards the stairs. "Joel! That's not safe!"

“Then stop squirming, for God’s sake!” he muttered as he climbed the stairs. Luckily, you listened, because the idea of ​​falling on your face wasn’t interesting. He kicked open the bedroom door, and a moment later it slammed shut behind you, and you landed with a thud on the bed.

“Joel!” you were too confused. It all happened so fast, and Joel looked like he was going crazy. His fingers deftly unbuttoned your pants and in a quick movement slid them down your back along with your underwear. “What the fuck?!”

"I already told you, I want you. Now." he replied, as if it was obvious. He came for what was his, for you.

You didn’t say anything else as he spread your thighs, his head disappearing between them. You took a breath, gripping the sheets in your hands as you felt him start to eat you out like this was his last meal, like he’d been starving for years. Your brain couldn’t process anything but the violent pleasure that was taking over your body. But it didn’t last.

Joel rose, his beard glistening with your juices, looking at you with nearly black eyes. The belt made a familiar sound and he pulled down his pants, freeing his hard cock. Maybe he had lost his mind, maybe something had possessed him, but you couldn’t lie—you wanted him more than ever.

Without taking his eyes off you, he took off his shirt, revealing his broad chest and strong arms. Despite his age, he still had it. And you still only wanted him.

When his hands grabbed your hips and turned you on the bed almost like a rag doll, you just squealed softly. He lifted your hips, his hand sliding down your back, pressing you to the bed. You knew what was coming, but when with a quiet, “So fucking sexy…” he slid inside you in one hard movement, you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to stop yourself from moaning. His cock was deep, all the way to the base. At that moment, Joel could do anything to you, because your brain and body had stopped working properly.

Every thrust, every movement, every sigh drove you crazy. The orgasm built in your body at a dizzying speed. You had made love many times before, in different ways and at different speeds, but this was different. Almost primal, animalistic, passionate. But at the same time, with Joel, you knew you were safe, even as his fingers dug into your hips as he pounded into you with all his might.

Suddenly he leaned down, his arm sliding under your body and lifting you up so he was pressing you against his chest. Joel’s hand slid under your shirt and bra, squeezing your breast tightly.

“Take it all... I can feel you close...” His voice was heavy as he whispered in your ear, “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby. Fuck, take it.”

You reached back, gripping his hair as he nearly bit your neck. A hard shudder wracked your body as you came, your throat aching. Joel was right behind you. His movements became frantic as he pounded into you. “I’m gonna fill you up… Until it fucking takes hold.”

He squeezed you so hard he could break you, and then he came deep, with a deep groan. You stayed like that, until the last twitch, breathing deeply, slowly regaining your senses. Finally, you managed to find your voice, despite your sore throat.

"What was that?"

He turned his head, kissing your neck, inhaling your scent. “That’s how babies are made, darling.”

You giggled, and after a moment, Joel did the same. His arms slowly released you, and you fell back onto the bed, feeling your limbs go limp. Joel collapsed next to you, breathing deeply and feeling completely at peace and comfort. Silence filled the room, and you steadied your breathing, trying to get back to reality.

“I’ve been going to that woman you were talking about for a week now.” You turned your head and looked at Joel’s profile. His eyes were closed, a few curls stuck to his sweaty forehead. “The massage lady.”

"That's good. Did she help with your back?"

He turned around and looked at you with a sly smile. "Didn't you notice?"

“Jesus!” you covered your face with your hand. “And I thought you…”

"What?" Joel rolled over and rested his head on his hand. "What did you think I was doing?"

With a heavy heart, you told him what Ann had told you, that she had done it in good faith, about your concerns about Hazel. Joel listened patiently, never once suggesting that what you were saying was stupid or irrational. Finally, he smiled and leaned down, lightly kissing the corner of your mouth.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he said and seeing your surprised look he added "The fact that you're a little jealous of me is really flattering. But you also know that I'm completely devoted to you. I'm yours, baby, no one will ever change that."

She stroked his cheek, smiling. “And you really think that kind of sex can produce children?”

"We could always do it again." He shrugged, "Just to be sure."

You pulled him closer and kissed him tenderly. He was yours, body and soul. And you were his.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait

[gunwoo-bh]

The Night Shift [Min Yoongi x f!reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Min Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus's 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. Warnings: some swearing, it'll be fluff, maybe some angst, but mostly fluff, no smut for now but still MDNI A/N: Hi there. This is my first attempt at writing some Yoongi stuff. I'm just writing this for fun, I'm learning all the fanfic lingo and I want to improve. I don't know if I'll write more but I'd like to. English is my second language, pardon any mistakes.

THE NIGHT SHIFT

You walk into your campus’s 24-hour library five minutes before eleven on Friday. Just as most leave to attend a party to celebrate the end of the week, you head into work in hopes of avoiding the craziness of it all. Admittedly, you also want to escape your best friends’ and roommates’ attempts to get you to join them. You have never envied the meticulous process of getting ready for a party. Time and again, you've seen your friends spend hours primping and prepping. Showering, shaving, moisturizing, applying makeup, blow-drying, straightening or curling their hair, and planning outfits– you can’t help but sigh at what most likely awaits you when you return home in the morning. But pretend all you want; their excitement about parties does make you crave and wish to be more like them. So, instead, you enjoy making them hangover stew and listening to whatever stories they remember from their night, watching them fondly as you live vicariously through their adventures. 

Waving to the librarian preparing to leave her shift for the day, a buzzing in your pocket startles you. After placing your bag at the main desk, you dig into your cardigan pocket and fish out your phone, grinning at the string of texts already lined up for you.

Eunji [10:58PM]: Here’s a pin to our location, ‘kay? If you don’t hear from us, send in the cavalry (salute emoji)

Hwayoung [10:58PM]: Yah! WTF. Unnie, don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine, mhm? Call if you need anything~~

Eunji [10:59PM]: I’m kidding~ I’m kidding~ We’ll be safe, most likely drunk but we’ll try not to be too loud when we get home (wink emoji)

Hwayoung [11:00PM]: Sorry if one of us ends up in your bed (blushing emoji)

Snorting, you type.

You [11:02PM]: You know how to apologize to me, I’m easy. Bribes are welcomed. (wink emoji)

Sliding your phone on the desk, shaking your head at Eunji and Hwayoung’s shenanigans, you get settled for the night. Mrs. Kang leaves you a list of tasks to get done for the night, all of it achievable, and bids you goodnight, leaving you at your post. 

You suspect the library will be mostly empty, if not deserted, by midnight. Hiding your bag under the desk and grabbing your phone, you slip one wireless earbud in your ear and set off for your usual beginning-of-shift lap around the main, second, and third floors. Twenty minutes later, a dozen stray books gathered and a headcount of thirteen people total in the library, you return to your desk for the night, settling in to start writing your essay. 

As the hours begin to pass, you only ever glance up from your laptop to note when someone leaves the building. This means that at nearly 2 AM your previous count of thirteen is brought down to seven when you watch Seungmin, a regular second-year student, exit with a shy wave and bow. You push the chair back and stretch, yawning as your eyes peek at the notifications on your phone. Most are from Hwayoung, usually the least tipsy one, who sends you photos of them at the off-campus party, looking great as always and having fun. You press on the most recent photos and heart it, lips curling up softly.

Closer to 3 AM, you’re up stretching your legs and gathering some more books, placing them back on the shelves where they belong. You still have music in your ear, humming as you walk back down to the main floor. Right when your foot leaves the final step, you’re startled by a person standing at the main desk. Dashing to it, jittery hands taking your earbud out and bowing apologetically as you approach. 

“Ohh, I’m so sorry, have you been waiting long?” not giving him the time to answer, “how can I help you?”

When your eyes meet the cat-like ones of the young man in front of you, you startle a little. You’ve seen him across campus a few times, usually hanging with his group of rambunctious friends. Most of them you’ve spoken to here or there, even sharing a class with one of them, but the one standing in front of you has always been elusive. Quieter. 

“Mhm,” he nods, barely making eye contact as he slides a paper over to you. 

Looking quickly between the paper and him, you pick it up and read the name of the book. You recognize it right away. Most third-year psychology students end up at some point looking for it you find. 

“Oh,” you chew your lower lip, “second floor, back left corner near the water fountain. Here…” you grab a pen and scribble down the area for him, handing it to him. “If it’s not there, please come back, and I’ll help you find it…” 

He finally locks eyes with you for a few seconds, mumbling the quietest thank you ever heard and bowing. And just as quickly as he appeared, he is gone up the stairs. You glance over your shoulder to his retreating figure. 

While you may be immune to the desire to party, you certainly are not immune to attractive guys. He was very handsome with his slightly long black hair, bangs long enough to fall in his eyes when leaning forward. His powerful gaze is what struck you when face to face, but you were also struck by the way he nervously licked his lips when waiting for your help. He was handsome is all you can think of as you sit back down, unable to let go of the interaction.

You pick up your phone, wondering if you should ask your friends if they know his name. Eunji is the social butterfly you wish you were and seems to know everyone in Seoul, not just the school but the city as well. You decide against it; the odds of getting an answer out of her at this time are extremely low before settling back into school work with one final glance to the stairs. 

When 5 AM comes around, you’re just about done with your essay when footsteps catch your attention as your body snaps towards the stairs. You slouch back in your chair when you realize it’s the campus security guard, bowing when he passes your desk and sighing. Damn it, YN, why are you this way…Shaking your head in disappointment, you grab the sandwich you bought yourself before coming into work, snacking on that with your water while manifesting this next hour to be over and done with. 

The sound of the turnstiles is the next thing catching your attention briefly away from your food, glancing up to see a student smiling brightly at you and bowing before rushing up the stairs like a man on a mission, making you chuckle. Right as you get up from your seat, two sets of footsteps catch your attention, but you continue moving around your desk to begin your final lap to clean up before Mr. Song’s arrival. As you reach the bottom steps, you’re met with the student who just entered the library, leaving with the handsome guy from earlier, stopping to let them pass, and bowing to each other quickly. Standing still, you watch them leave the library, but not before mystery guy takes a quick peek behind him to you, prompting his friend to do the same. 

His friend begins grinning and laughing, his friend tugging him with force out of the library, which simply confuses you more. You decide not to dwell on that interaction, instead, you begin your final check and clean up before the clock finally strikes 6 AM. You hand off your list of completed tasks to Mr. Song and wish him a good day once you’ve gathered your things.

The crisp morning spring air is a welcome sensation against your face when you leave the building, yawning and walking back to your apartment. 

Entering the apartment, it’s quiet and still, making you wonder if your friends are even home yet. But one glance at the slippers still present at the entrance is enough to let you know that they haven’t returned home yet. You smile warmly, dragging your feet to your bedroom and getting changed into some pajamas, sliding into bed to get as much sleep as possible.

It’s just past noon when you hear the rousing of your friends. You’re already up, freshened up, and cooking them some hangover stew. The post-Friday night routine for all of you. Glancing over your shoulder, you spot Hwayoung, followed by Eunji slowly coming to sit in the living room. 

“Food is ready~!” You sing-song, grabbing the tray of food you’ve readied and bringing it over.

You’re all happily enjoying your breakfast, listening to them share the stories of what they remember of their night. Eunji remembers dancing with a guy and nearly going home with him, while Hwayoung remembers watching some drama unfold between two girls and a guy. 

“So, you were eavesdropping?” You quirk your eyebrow. 

She grunts. “Do we call it that if I was stuck in the bathroom while they were gossiping?”

You all laugh, serving each other more food as Eunji turns to you. “How was work?” 

You still right away, pretending the question didn’t immediately bring your mind right back to handsome library guy. “It was good, quiet as usual but you guys know me, I like my boring Friday nights.”

Your friends stare at you, and you know they can tell you’re itching to say something, to share too. They wait you out as you take a few bites of food, chewing quietly before swallowing that bite. You’re silent for barely two minutes before you open your mouth, shutting it right away. You don’t know why you’re hesitating, your friends would never judge you for anything you already know that. 

“So,” you pause, watching the way their eyes are already glued to you, “do you know Kim Namjoon? We have the same Cultural Theory class?”

They both nod right away, urging you to go on. “You guys know his friends by any chance?”

They both lean back, glancing at each other for a few seconds before Hwayoung asks, “Why are you asking?” 

Your face contorts in something the girls have never seen out of you before, like it physically pains you to have to explain it to them, “Well,” you trail off, “this guy came into the library like at 3 in the frickin’ morning…and I’ve just seen him around Namjoon and his friends, I just…I never…I don’t think I’ve ever heard his name before. I was…just cu–curious, you know?” 

You shut your eyes, wincing at how awful that sounded, “Okay, I know you guys wanna freak out, can you just do it now…” you sigh, and right on cue both Hwayoung and Eunji start kicking their feet, giggling like high school girls who have just heard the juciest gossip. Then a series of questions begin overlapping at unheard speeds, you’d think they were a Formula 1 car with how fast they were going. 

It’s only five minutes later that they finally quiet as Eunji gently smacks Hwayoung on the knee, urging her to ask you the question they want an answer to: “Why are you asking?”

The silence is deafening when she’s done speaking, and you’re playing with the hem of your hoodie, “Because he was cute.”

You swear you’ve never seen your friends hold in their excitement this much before you add, “Can you just tell me if you know his friends?” You whine before letting your body fall back on the ground. 

You’re staring at the ceiling, questioning your life choices and wondering if you should have even brought this up as Hwayoung crawls closer to you, lying next to you, “Well, yes. Eunji has classes with–who is it?”

“Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung. Was he one of them?” Eunji asks, joining you two on the floor.

You shake your head. “Isn’t Taehyung the guy you have a crush on?” 

“No, that’s Jeon Jungkook. He’s the smart second-year who skipped a year, he has a class with Hwayoung.”

“Ah…”

Hwayoung hums, “So, not Namjoon, Taehyung, Jimin, or Jungkook.” She turns to Eunji, “That leaves Yoongi, Seokjin, or Hoseok.”

“What did he look like, Unnie?” Eunji asks you, intent on giving you an answer.

You go on to describe him as best as you can, until suddenly one detail pops into your head, “Oh my god, I’m an idiot. He was looking for a book, he was looking for a psychology textbook!  Do any of them major in that?” 

Hwayoung snaps her fingers, looking at Eunji, “That would be…Min Yoongi, no?” 

“Yep. Min Yoongi.” Eunji says the name, and then they both look at you. 

You’re mouthing the name softly, looking up to your expectant friends, “What…what do you guys know about him?” 

Hwayoung shrugs, “He’s nice. Quiet. Picks and chooses his people. Studies psychology. Shy. He’s not as…’out there’ as the other guys but a classmate of mine said he did a project with him their freshman year and was a hard worker, and just nice overall.” 

You listen to her, nodding along, suddenly feeling like you let the curiosity get the best of you and that you’re getting hopeful over something that hasn’t even happened. You’ve had crushes. You’ve never seriously dated anybody, but you’re still young, so no rush, right? Min Yoongi was just a cute guy you had seen at school, that’s all. 

“Mhm, he’s just cute…” You explain to no one in particular, maybe to yourself, and your best friends notice right away how you suddenly get lost in your head. “Well, thank you for clearing up that mystery.” You laugh, sitting up.

Hwayoung rubs your back from her lying position, “You know, you’re allowed to think a guy is cute and wonder who he is.”

“I know…” Sighing, you lie back down with your friends. “But I’m not you guys. I’m not the girl that attracts attention everywhere I go. I’m the quiet one. I am the one who flies under the radar. I mean, I did that to myself.” 

Eunji holds your hand, “Come on, any guy would be lucky to be with you. Rest assured, we will remind whoever you end up with of that very detail.” She says with certainty, making you giggle. 

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You sigh, staring at the ceiling once more. 

A few minutes of silence pass when Hwayoung speaks up, “Let’s order food, buy alcohol and snacks, and watch a bunch of rom-coms to remind us how single we all are.” 

This makes all of you burst out in laughter but also agreement. With that plan in mind, each of you do your apartment chores. And nothing heals you more than an afternoon with your best friends listening to music. You can’t deny that your thoughts sometimes veer back towards Min Yoongi. 

You were never the girl who was boy-obsessed or focused in high school. You never minded when it happened because to each their own, but you kept your crushes very close to your chest. Objectively? You can look at guys and just think they’re handsome, and could you say this about him? Of course. But he struck you differently with that tiny interaction. A crush at first sight of sorts. You tell yourself it’s more than okay to think that Min Yoongi is a good-looking guy and that you're likely going to keep thinking so. With that in mind, you make a list of movies to watch until the wee hours of the morning or until you fall asleep. Come evening, Hwayoung calls her favorite local restaurant and places an order for pickup, which has become your job to pick up.

With that in mind, you make a list of movies to watch until the wee hours of the morning or until you fall asleep. Come the evening, Hwayoung has called her favourite local restaurant and placed an order for pick up, which has become your job to pick up.

“Remind me why I’m picking this up and not you? You placed the order, no?” You ask, slipping your shoes on with a small grin. 

“Because I am very specific about what alcohol girls’ night must have, and Eunji is very specific about the kind of snacks she likes, and we both know what you like so…” she trails off, “makes sense to us to do this.” 

You playfully glare at both, placing your purse around you, “You just want to buy the fancy shit…”

Hwayoung snaps her fingers, “Ding ding! We have a winner!”

You burst out laughing. “Alright then, I’m going to pick up the food. Please, let's all get back here quick so we can start our sappy rom-com night.”

After a messy three-way high five, you manage to begin your fifteen-minute walk to the restaurant, looking down to the order confirmation Hwayoung had sent to you. Your walk goes faster than you ever expected it to go as you reach the beautiful traditional building that houses the restaurant. None of you have ever physically come here, but a pamphlet had been left at your apartment when you moved in at first. And somehow, this had become your go-to place for a treat. Except this time, instead of delivery, because of the size of your order (Hwayoung had probably gone overboard this time), you had to go pick it up. 

You open the door and announce yourself, saying hello as you walk up to the counter to the nice middle-aged woman there. You show her your phone with the order confirmation, “I am here for a pick up, here’s the reference number.” 

She looks at it and smiles, “Mhm, yes, your order is just about ready if you wouldn’t mind waiting here for a moment.” 

You nod and bow to her, waiting in the lobby as you look around the restaurant. You take your phone out to update your friends.

You [8:41PM]: Arrived! Food is ready at any moment. Will be back home soon~! How’s the booze and snack search?

“Miss, your food is ready.” You hear the owner speak, shoving your phone back in your pocket and turning to face her. She points towards the curtain that separates the front and the kitchen. “My son will have it out.”

You’re paying when she fusses over her son and how he’s trying to carry both heavy bags at once, helping him, and only when you look up do you feel your body freeze. You clock her placing the first bag on the counter in front of you, but where your focus is, is different. Your eyes are trained on her son bringing the second bag out, making eye contact with cat-like eyes when he finally lifts his head. You can’t believe your luck (or bad luck?) when you’re face to face with the owner’s son. And you can’t wait to go back and tell your friends exactly who that is. 

Min Yoongi.

post separator @hyuneskkami

[cobragardens]

Notes on the Scene in Job's Basement

Crowley is not tempting Aziraphale here. He's experimenting on him.

Getting Aziraphale to sin, or even getting him drunk, is not Crowley's intent in this scene. Eating food, taking pleasure in food, drinking alcohol, and even being drunk are not sins in most of Judaism or Christianity (and they're certainly not sins in British Christianity, regardless of any church's doctrine). When Aziraphale turns down alcohol, Crowley just suggests he try food instead; so it's not important to Crowley what Aziraphale tries, but it is important to him that he try something.

This scene is also the first time (chronologically) we see that Crowley likes to drink and likes to be drunk.

We know from

and from

as well as from Book Omens and Word of God that angels have no instinct beyond curiosity pulling them toward eating or toward gender. From this we can reasonably presume they have no instinct toward Beverages either.

That means that in this moment--

--Crowley is very likely the only metaphysical entity he knows on either side of the divide, or even knows of, who has ever experienced a physical pleasure.

And he probably has some Lingering Questions about it, like we all did the first time a physical pleasure blew our minds. Like,

Is it this strong for everyone?

Is there something wrong with me?

Am I going to hurt myself if I do this, like, a lot?

And it's not like the poor creature can ask anyone, because the answers for humans aren't necessarily going to apply to him.

So when he sees an opportunity, Crowley gets that one angel he knows who'll talk to him to try a human thing, and then he watches to see if physical pleasure hits the angel as hard as it hit him.

And that's why he looks so creepily pleased when it does.

Apparently it is this strong for everyone and there isn't anything wrong with him. Now he can relax and get sloshed without worrying, and he even has someone to talk to about how rad human stuff is.

A Dip Into Speculation

We know because we're shown this isn't the first time Crowley has gotten drunk that, watching Aziraphale, Crowley understands what he's seeing. I think it's really interesting that Crowley doesn't laugh at Aziraphale at any point during this scene, and he doesn't correct the way he's eating, either.

Maybe it's because this is what it was like for Crowley the first time. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and woke up in a puddle of his own sick. Maybe he got so drunk he passed out and didn't wake up at all, and there was Paperwork and he had to get used to a whole new corporation just when he'd got the hang of having legs in the old one. Maybe somebody had to show him how to use a fork or whatever they had going on for eating utensils in Ancient Mesopotamia. I distinctly remember having to learn as a small child to chew with my mouth closed. There is every possibility Crowley doesn't consider the way Aziraphale is eating to be worthy of ridicule because whatever Crowley did the first time was worse.

Maybe he wants to leave Aziraphale set up for later embarrassment over his table manners. Aziraphale was a judgy bitch about the wine.

Or maybe it's something like Let him have this one. There can be rules to it later; let him just enjoy it, once, like a little kid with both fists in their birthday cake.

Maybe it's desire. There is some textual evidence for this. Once Aziraphale learns to eat properly, the way he does it is very attractive, and we know Crowley loves watching him do it.

I don't think it's overreaching even to interpret David Tennant's physical performance of Crowley watching Aziraphale eat as one of sensual or erotic pleasure. I mean--

I'm not saying it absolutely has to be erotic, but it's not a reach, or even a full extension of the elbow, to read it that way.

There's another meta somewhere [I'll link it when I find it again; if you know this meta, please drop it in comments!] that discusses how this exchange in Job's basement is filmed like an erotic scene.

Like Crowley, we all want to kiss this face.

Aziraphale isn't eating prettily, but he's eating lewdly, ravenously, desirously, and it's lit like romantic sex, not like gluttony. Whether that's funny or poignant or hot may depend on the viewer. Here's how Crowley's handling it:

Srs tho, any frame of this scene could have been painted by Artemisia Gentileschi.

Or maybe--and this is my favorite of the available interpretations--maybe this is what it was like for Crowley the first time and he doesn't interfere because he wants Aziraphale to come out of this as someone who's had the same experience Crowley's had so Crowley won't be so totally alone in having had it.

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 14 (Yan Sabo x Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The other parts

TW: light somnophilia

Huge thank you to @tryingandfailingtowrite for editing, beta-ing, and helping me with the smutty scene. Thank you to @sordidmusings, @moldychefboyardeecan and @gouraminnow for beta-ing and leaving your comments and suggestions! Thank you to @kitsunechan707 for the Sabo somno inspo :). I'll leave one more thank you at the end to not spoil a bit.

Sabo didn’t have to look at the clock to know what time it was. The darkness of the sky was just being penetrated by the early grays of the dawn, sunrise still a few hours away. After so many years of being in charge of various flanks of the Revolutionary Army, Sabo had become accustomed to waking up and starting his day before five in the morning. Even when the two of you had been on the island together, he’d maintained his routine and worked for hours before either you or Ace started stirring. He always had so much to do, countless reports to read and letters to write, plans to work on, and missions to oversee. It felt like he never had enough time to finish everything he needed to accomplish. 

But now as he watched as your chest slowly rose and fall, your even breath tickling his skin. He couldn’t find it in himself to move away from you. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, but he didn’t want this time to end. As he came to his senses, he realized he was on his back in the bed with you crowding his side, trying to absorb his heat. Your face was pressed against his chest near his beating heart. Sabo brought his flesh hand to rest on your side and put the metal one behind his head. His fingers twitched with the urge to run both of his hands over your body, to feel all the dips and curves under his soft touch. But it was still early and you needed rest. 

 That and Sabo wasn't as forward with you as he was previously. He certainly wanted to kiss you again or have you in his clothes, but given the intensity of recent events, he thought it best to pull back and allow yourself to calibrate to your new normal. To his surprise, his strategy worked. At least for a night. You'd asked him to stay with you and clutched him tight all night long. Yes, you'd asked for Ace first and were really after the warmth of his mera-mera, but he supposed being a sentient heating pad was better than nothing.

Sabo's metal hand ran through his hair, and he winced when one bearing snagged on his hair and pulled a few out. You hadn’t truly grasped what Sabo was telling you with the metal hand, but that was okay. He should have guessed you'd be too distracted by the tech to focus on the meaning behind his example. He wanted you to see that, despite losing his hand, Sabo was still himself. You’d known him as he was for the entire relationship, and finding out he had a metal hand hadn’t changed your perception of him. If anything, it probably endeared him to you a little, given your proclivities. He’d try again later that day to get the example to sink in for you, this time without robotics.

In truth, it broke Sabo’s heart the way you talked about yourself, just like it did when he heard Ace do the same. In that way, you were so similar to Ace, so sure that everyone would discard you at the slightest inconvenience or trouble. That you didn’t have any value to anyone besides what you provided. You’d spoken to Ace about his own issues, but Sabo supposed it was more difficult to apply those same ideas to yourself. 

 Sudden movement from you distracted him from his thoughts. You stirred slightly in your sleep, your brow furrowing as you worried about something in your dreams. A small whimper escaped your lips as your fingers gripped his shirt tightly; whatever you were dreaming about was surely unpleasant. 

Sabo slipped his flesh hand down the neck hole of your shirt to run it up and down your back. He didn’t think you’d mind, you probably would prefer his touch to whatever unpleasantness you were reliving. He kissed the top of your head while bringing his other arm down to hug you tightly. He hoped you weren’t dreaming about the beating you’d taken - he would do anything to have you forget that entirely. Your jaw had been wired shut for weeks, so it wasn’t like he could ask about it, but he suspected you wouldn’t have spoken about it even if you could. Yet another similarity between you and Ace - two people who shoved down their hurt until it erupted at a later time. Maybe he’d try to gently prod and see how you were feeling, he thought as he soothed you. You quieted back down in his arms, your brow smoothing out as your dreams took a more pleasant turn.

But after rubbing your soft skin to calm you in your sleep, Sabo was left with another problem – his raging erection. His flesh hand was still under your shirt and his only option was his robotic hand. He yearned to stroke his cock with you so near but the metal was a much rougher sensation than skin. He could do it, he’d masturbated with it before, but it wasn’t as pleasant. While thinking what to do, Sabo’s fingers traced circles into your back, his aching cock practically throbbing for contact. A near smile graced your lips when you let you a soft sigh, and his decision was made.

Sabo reached for the nightstand at his side and grabbed his glove off the top counter. Sabo used his teeth to pull his glove on with muscle memory while keeping his eyes trained on you, making sure you remained asleep for the duration of his activity. His cock strained against his pants, uncomfortably pushing against the metal zipper. Sabo reached down and unfastened his pants, freeing his weeping cock as it stood rigidly at attention. Before you, the thought of masturbating next to a sleeping woman would have never crossed his mind, but the vision of you peacefully resting on his chest was too much for him to ignore right now. 

His eyes slid closed when he finally wrapped his hand around himself and he imagined it was your hand that fisted the base of his cock.. It was more challenging with the texture of the leather glove, but he’d make do. Sabo slowly stroked the length of his cock, spreading the beads of pre-cum down his shaft with a tight grip. It felt wrong to stroke himself to the thought of you while you slept peacefully next to him, but not enough to stop him. Sabo took care not to wake you as he worked his hand up and down at a measured pace.

 His movements sped up with the thought of your soft skin under his fingertips., His mind conjured more images of you as he pushed himself towards his climax. The way your lips would curve so sweetly when you smiled. What you might look like underneath him when you took his cock. The way your cheeks would hollow when you sucked him off and how you would beg him for his touch. His imagination went further, picturing the tears that would threaten to fall when you pleaded for a reprieve. Your poor pussy overstimulated and dripping as you repeated his name like a prayer as he drove you toward another orgasm. The ring of Sabo, Sabo, Sabo in his ears seemed almost real as his cock twitched and throbbed at the thought. 

He came with a soft grunt, his cum spurting all over his lower stomach. Luckily, he’d been on many missions in close quarters, so making little to no noise while cumming was easy. He was still wearing his clothes which made cleaning up his mess easier. After he ensured none got on you, Sabo gently undid the buttons of his shirt with one hand. Sabo reluctantly rolled you carefully off his chest and onto your side. Slipping out of his button-down, Sabo tossed it on the floor and cuddled up behind you. He yawned just as the rays of the morning sun came up over the horizon. He really should get out of bed and get going. There was so much to do - meetings and notes and plans and calls and-

Sabo yawned again and pulled you closer to his chest, his eyes sliding closed once more.

Your POV

You blinked awake in the same bed that you’d been in for weeks now. But instead of having to turn your head to look out the window, the sunshine was streaming into your room. Oh yeah, Sabo had moved your bed….and was still in it. You felt his warmth at your back; the heat ebbing and flowing with each even breath he took. His arm draped over your middle, and your legs were tangled with his as he twitched slightly in his sleep. His metal hand was in front of you, and now you could inspect it without feeling weird about being watched while you took your time to examine it. 

You slowly picked up his wrist and held the metal contraption as you marveled at the intricate details of its workings. Someone had put a lot of effort and love into Sabo’s prosthetic, even making the plain metal have a filigree style to match his general proclivity towards…frills. It wasn’t a surprise that people loved him; you’d seen the way the RA staff treated him before the battle. Still, you hadn’t thought much about the people Sabo would call his family and friends outside of Ace. 

You were still enraptured by the joint work of the hand when you felt Sabo stir behind you. You dropped his hand and pretended to sleep yourself to ward off any awkward conversations. Sabo yawned but didn’t rub his face on you or pull you closer like he sometimes used to do on the island at night. Instead, he removed his arm and raised them both above his head, grunting as he stretched his limbs. 

“G’morning, Sunny,” Sabo said, smacking his lips a few times and rubbing his chest with his prosthetic hand. His morning voice was rougher and deeper than usual. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember waking up with Sabo on the island — he was almost always gone by the time you woke up. 

“Get out, I gotta pee,” you stated with a roll of your eyes, “and why’s your shirt on the ground?” 

Your eyes narrowed as you eyed Sabo. He had never taken off his clothes when you’d slept together before. It seemed odd to wake up to a shirtless Sabo the first time you actually asked him to stay.

“Hm? You kept asking me to be warmer and warmer. Problem was solved when I took off my shirt,” he said with a pleasant smile. One more stretch, and Sabo sat upright in the bed before he swung his legs over to the side. “D’ya need any help to get to the bathroom? I know the nurses helped you walk there for a while. Speaking of -”

“No. Go, Sabo,” you urged, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. In truth, you had needed help walking when your bones were broken, but the nurses had done it without making you feel weak. If Sabo helped you, you might consider turning yourself into the Marines out of sheer humiliation.

There was a knock on the door and it immediately opened to reveal Marco on the other side, your chart in his hands. You hated it when people knocked and didn’t wait for a response before they entered. His smile widened a smidge as his eyes passed between you and Sabo. You wanted to protest that it wasn’t like that to Marco, but it probably wouldn’t have changed his mind anyway. The men had already both annoyed you and the day had barely started.

“Good morning yoi. I see you’re already up — we’re gonna work on some physical therapy and test where you are now that you’re healed-” Marco began before Sabo cut him off.

“In a few minutes, Doc. She needs to-”

“ She can speak for herself. Get out , Sabo,” you said, nudging him with your foot. “Marco I’ll be ready in a few minutes, please leave,” you stated with a sniff.

 You’d never been so direct, always afraid of confrontation or that people would take your words wrong. Now you were bossing around Marco the Phoenix and the Second in Command of the RA like they were errant school children. Marco smiled placidly, unoffended at your statement. 

‘I’ll knock again in 15 minutes-”

“And you’ll wait until I tell you to enter,” you said primly. 

“Of course,” he said, nodding his head at you. Sabo hummed, picked his shirt off the ground, and placed his hat on top of his head. He turned to face you and tried to kiss the top of your head as you dodged him. 

“Be back soon; I’ll go get us breakfast. It’s gonna be a great day,” he said with a bright smile. 

It was not a great day.

In fact, this was one of the most irritating days you could ever remember. It was only beaten out of first place by the time a colleague incorrectly explained to you the concept behind a paper that you authored. Everything was so much more difficult than you remembered — stretching, walking, not bumping into things, judging how far away things were, reading, writing… you were so angry that you wanted to explode everything. Again.

The morning began with Marco leading you through physical therapy exercises due to your deconditioning. He’d healed your body, but your muscles were still weak from weeks of disuse after lying in bed. You were on the floor on a thin mat as Marco stretched your legs, pushing them past what was comfortable. Not only did the stretching cause you discomfort, but Sabo had also invited himself into the room. He threw Marco nasty glances whenever the doctor touched your skin. It was purely professional, but that didn’t stop the dark look that grew on Sabo’s face.. 

For example, Marco was stretching your hamstrings with you. You were laid on your back as Marco took your ankle in his large hand and pushed your leg towards your chest. The groaning of strained metal was audible as Sabo tightened his grip on his pipe. Marco’s patience had finally run out and he kicked Sabo out. 

Not only was the stretching painful but you found that even walking short distances was a challenge for you. Once upon a time, you could walk all day long with no issues, like you had on the island. Now walking up and down the hallway of the ship left you needing rest. Marco kept making you sit down after every pass down the hall. Yes, you needed it, but it was so annoying to sit there while Marco yapped at you about slow and steady progress and muscle retention. After about an hour, you left to go nap in your room before lunch, before he could tell you yet again what admirable progress you’d made.

What really tipped you over the edge was when you and Sabo spent the early afternoon together in his room. You two sat at his desk as he tried to help you rebuild your reading ability. The desk was cluttered with books, letters, and papers, so there was barely any room left for your remedial work. The two of you sat side by side, thighs touching as he went through the basics of phonics with you. You couldn’t even move the desk to get more space from Sabo since it was bolted to the floor, so it wouldn’t move in a storm.

Between your traumatic brain injury and your missing eye, there were several obstacles ahead of you that needed to be solved before you’d be able to be read at the level you were before. Sabo was patient and kind, and you really tried to keep that in mind, but every little comment from him felt like a personal blow. Each one cemented just how behind you were and how much progress you’d have to make before you could be somewhat competent again.

Marco had suggested starting with basic phonics and working your way up to determine where exactly you were with your reading ability. It was a good idea, but after about five minutes, you were ready to be done with the activity. It was humiliating to sit there with Sabo and have him write various letters in combinations and have you sound them all out — and even worse to find out that you couldn’t remember them all. You were a published scientist, allegedly at the top of your field, and you couldn’t predictably tell Sabo what sound “ch” made.

“Wonderful, you’re doing so well, Sunny! Now, what sound does this letter make?” Sabo asked, pointing to a letter on the paper. Your eye had a hard time keeping up with the tasks required and your mind was spinning from all the exertion. You weren’t doing well, you thought bitterly, barely a month previously you’d read through all of Sabo’s textbooks on the island in a matter of days. 

“Sabo, I’m taking a break,” you said, reaching with the heel of your hand to rub at your good eye. Sabo caught your wrist and held it down to the table; a scowl pulled at your lips when he stopped you.

“Let’s just do five more, OK? We’re almost done with two-letter combinations and we can work our way up to three-letter words after your break. Is your eye tired -”

“Yeah, my eye’s tired,” you snapped while using your other hand to rub your eye. Sabo frowned at you.

“Don’t rub, it’s not going to help. If you’re tired, we can do some eye exercises before we move on to practicing depth perception -”

“I don’t want to do eye exercises, ” you hissed at him. You didn’t want to do eye exercises or leg exercises or practice your depth perception or any of the things that you now needed just to be you. You wanted everything to go back to the way it was before, how things used to be for you. Sabo squeezed your hand and gave you a thoughtful look.

“I know you’re having a hard time -”

“Oh, you know, do you Sabo? You know I’m having a hard time?” your voice began to rise as you yanked your hand back from his. Sabo’s eyes widened as he put down the pencil in his hand.

“Sunny, if you’ll let me -”

“If I let you what Sabo? Put me in seastone again?” you yelled, your frustration letting your bottled anger leak out. 

“Sunny, I -”

“No! Shut up , Sabo! You always have an answer for everything, and I’m sick of it! You plan everything in my life, and it’s not fair! I’m not your puppet to move around how you want - I don’t wanna read anymore, I don’t wanna look at letters anymore, I don’t wanna practice my depth perception or stretch or do any of that shit! I DON’T WANT TO DO IT ANYMORE!” you screamed loudly enough to make your voice crack, but it did little to quell the fire that raged in you. There was so much you were angry about, but you couldn't even keep all the thoughts in your mind, which only served to enrage you further. 

With a small roar and all the adrenaline you had in your body, you swept all the books, pens, papers, and notes Sabo had on his desk onto the floor and stomped out of the room.

Sabo’s POV

Sabo sat unmoving in his room as papers wafted all over the floor. He’d never seen you so volatile before, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Yes, he knew you were still mad about the seastone bracelet, and he did want to talk to you about it, but your explosive reaction was something new. Marco had told him you’d be emotionally labile and perhaps prone to anger but he didn’t think you had it in you to yell at him. 

He liked it.

Sabo wanted you to feel comfortable enough to yell at him, like you did with Ace. He wanted you to feel safe in your ability to rail at him, knowing that he’d never purposefully cause you any harm. Of course, he didn’t like that you were upset but he felt better knowing that he was perhaps becoming another safe space for you. After all, Ace was leaving the next day and you’d need someone else to rely on. Sabo needed that person to be him. 

Even so, Sabo did feel guilty for pushing you so hard with the lessons that day. It had been a long morning spent with Marco in physical therapy, followed by a draining session of learning to read with him. You were uncomfortable during the time you spent in his room, fidgeting and second guessing yourself at every turn. Your missing eye also played into the issues at hand; Sabo remembered his own strain when he had to relearn to do things without his left eye. He knew you were impatient to get back to working order, but it wasn’t going to happen overnight. He’d keep helping you no matter how much you destroyed his room. 

Sabo sighed as he looked at the upturned books on the floor. He knelt as he began picking them up and placing them haphazardly on the desk to be sorted later. Maybe piling them would add more drama for the next time you shoved them off.

Your POV

Your stomping would have been more cathartic if you hadn’t had to take a break on the stairs on your way to the deck. After resting a minute, you regained your strength and made your way to the deck of the ship while trying to avoid bumping into anything. What you really wanted to do was climb into the crow’s nest and stew there, but you weren’t confident in your climbing ability yet. Then Sabo and Ace would freak out and the cycle would start anew. No, for the time being, you went and sat on the floor of one of the Marine lifeboats after removing the covering. You brooded there and errantly rubbed both your eyes—Sabo be damned—when the smell of a campfire drifted towards you. 

“Don’t rub -”

“If you tell me not to do one goddamned thing, I’m pushing you overboard,” you deadpanned to Ace. He chuckled and sat on the floor of the lifeboat facing you. 

“Bad day?” he asked in an amused tone.

“Fuck off,” you replied as tears filled your good eye. 

“Whoa, didn’t mean to - hey, Sunny, I’m sorry,” he said as you wiped your eye again. He was leaning forward with both arms open but you weren’t in the mood right now.

“Don’t touch me,” you said, hugging your arms across yourself. Ace looked crestfallen, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feel bad and sorry for yourself and it wasn’t your problem that he’d come to find you.

“Tell Sabo and Marco I’m fine. Leave me alone,” you said, pulling your knees to your chest.

“They didn’t send me. I felt the bad vibes in the air and wanted to come commiserate. You know I’m always down for a good sulk,” Ace said, tipping his hat up with his finger. You snorted but didn’t smile. Stupid Ace and his stupid jokes that made you feel a little better.

“Are you gonna show me something else to make me mad?” you asked, reaching into your pocket to touch the bounty poster that you kept on your person at all times. Ace frowned and looked up at you, the very picture of a sad puppy.

“No. I’m sorry, Sunny. I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I don’t know why I did that,” he said, inspecting the skin of his arm to avoid eye contact.

“It’s alright. Sabo probably wouldn’t have shown me anyway. I’m glad I know,” you said, looking past him at the sea. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments before Ace couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why’re you out here anyway?” he asked, now fiddling with the medallion on his hat strings.

“I threw all the stuff off Sabo’s desk and yelled at him,” you replied, still staring past Ace.

“Hah! Hell yeah, I’m not the only one in trouble,” Ace said with a grin. You shrugged. You felt a little bad about pushing the books onto the floor - you’d seen some land on their spines and splay open - but you’d go back and apologize later. Maybe. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Ace said apropos of nothing, still fiddling with his hat. 

“Wh - wait, I thought you had a few more days,” you sputtered. The news was unexpected — you knew he’d be leaving shortly but not that soon.

“No, Marco’n me gotta head off to Wano. Gotta help Loof like always. I think he’s gonna try to take down Kaido? Not really sure,” Ace said speculatively. “But I getta see Yamato and Izou either way, so that’ll be good too.”

“Can I come-” you said as soon as the thought popped into your mind. Maybe Ace would let you join him, and you could-

“No. Sunny, you’re not coming with me. It’s too dangerous. You’re staying with Sabo. We talked about this on the island and it’s even more true now. You need someone to protect you, and there’s only a few people strong enough to do it. Me ‘n Marco will be busy and I don’t want you getting kidnapped or hurt. You’re staying with Sabo,” Ace said with finality as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“I don’t have to stay with Sabo, I could go-”

“No,” Ace said, as if he had the final say in everything. 

“You’re not the boss of me, I could go…I could go to the moon!” you said petulantly as you kicked at him weakly. Ace barked out a laugh and moved his legs to avoid your attack.

“Yeah, to the moon. Good one, Sunny.”

“I could! To the man on the moon!” you said firmly, banging your fist on your knee for emphasis.

“Hah! D’ya need me to get Marco? You hit your head again?” Ace asked with a smile.

“No, he’s invited me! Y’know, Eneru?” you said, waving your hand at the sky.

“What are you -”

“ENERU!” you said, now pointing at the moon visible in the late afternoon sky. Ace’s puzzled look had you zooming in on the moon multiple times until you saw a familiar palace.

“What the fuck -” Ace said quietly as you searched for Eneru. You spotted the strange man and zoomed in a little further. He was sitting on his throne, his long earlobes moving on their own in the low gravity of the moon.

“My goddess, what brings you to my domain? Another discussion about plasma?” Eneru asked with an indulgent smile, but you didn’t return it — you weren’t in the mood to smile back. You’d had some interesting conversations with him in the past about electricity, but now wasn’t the time. “Ah, your eye! What have they done to-”

 You didn’t want to hear Eneru’s strange talk about being a god and how you could be his goddess.ou flicked your hand through the magnification to remove it.

“Did-, do-do people know about that guy? That he’s there ? That- but he- why does he look like that?” Ace sputtered, shaking his head in confusion. 

“Dunno. He appeared on the moon one day,” you stated flatly, “Ace, please, can’t I go with you and Marco to Wano? I’ll be good.”

Your eye filled with tears as you pleaded with him again. Ace sat up and extended his arms toward you and this time you did take him up on the offer. You sat between his legs as he wrapped you in a giant hug. You leaned your chin on his freckled shoulder and allowed his warmth to envelop you.

“No, Sunny. You can’t. It’s not about being good or not. You need to learn how to like, walk again, and read again, and do all the things you like. You’re not a fighter and that’s all there’s gonna be there. All I’m good at is fighting, I gotta help Loof-”

“That’s not all you’re good at,” you interrupted, leaning your forehead on his shoulder to sniffle. “You can also eat faster than anyone else,” you said with mock sincerity. Ace laughed and you chuckled into his shoulder. 

“Wait till you meet Luffy, he’s just as bad as I am. Sabo’s the only civilized one of the three of us.” You hummed at the mention of Sabo as your gut churned. The longer you sat there with Ace, the worse you felt about how you’d lashed out at Sabo. It wasn’t his fault you were tired and upset, at least not about the reading and eye exercises. He deserved the bit about the seastone, but the rest was uncalled for and you’d have to apologize. You sighed heavily and laid your head on Ace.

“You wanna know what I do when I’m sad?” Ace asked, rubbing your back.

“What?” you replied, picking up your head.

“I blow stuff up. You wanna blow stuff up with me?” he asked, pushing you back a little to look at your face. You nodded, your eyes locked on his.

“Yeah. I really do.”

Thank you to BubbleBul on Ao3 for the suggestion that Sunny would see Eneru on the moon <3

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @epochal-oracle @divinedolliebun @rebeccawinters @extremely-ashtridic @sle3pymarimo @violetmatcha

[littlest-bugz]

The Collective You

[one system's brief advice about accepting the idea of the collective you]

One of the best pieces of system advice started from a tumblr post and was elaborated by my DID specialist. I can't find the original tumblr post that started it, so I'm making a little post of my own <3 Share the knowledge. and also hope that someone can link the original post lol.

When I was REALLY going through it™ with my first diagnosis w/ DID, and a lack of integration, all of my alters felt like separate individuals, some of us feeling as distanced as a coworker or a stranger altogether. We were just getting a grasp on internal communication between all of our subsystems, and it was rough. We felt so entirely differentiated that we were our own people trapped in one body. While I don't really care about what language you use, all alters in CDDs are a part of one person [there's only one body and brain]- the collective you.

So obvs, I'm scrolling tumblr like the chronically online doomscroller that I am, and I see this post that goes along the line of not knowing who you are, but knowing you are 'you', regardless of who you are [referring to alters]. And it said something like "we're all me enough to pick up our meds"- something like that. iirc it was a half light hearted, half advice post, but that was really good advice for me. I kind of internalized it after I processed it in therapy. It's actually why I have started to love parts language lately tbh.

After further processing this idea in therapy, Identity Confusion stopped mattering in the grand scheme of things. I focused less on worrying about who I was, and just focused on the fact that I'm me. Just like the post I saw- We are all me. The example of all being me enough to pick up my medications just applied, like, everywhere. Even when it came down to the smallest things- with coping with other symptoms too.

Oh? I don't like coffee right now? I guess I should switch to something else. [differentiated alters]

Oh? I have barely any drawing skills right now? Okay, really sucks but I can work on something else and come back to it later. [skill variance between alters]

Oh? I have to go to a doctor's appointment? I know I'll forget that- Gotta write a list, and put it up on the board so I remember. [day to day amnesia]

You know what happened? My dissociation got better! Not immediately or entirely, obviously, and my memory [re amnesia] still sucks, but that's part of the disorder- plus other disorders that I have. This idea of the collective you is something that I think is really beneficial to all CDD systems, especially during the mid to later stages of recovery.

I, admittedly, credit most of my healing to conversations I have had with my DID specialist. Especially since, without her, I wouldn't have been able to process this idea of the collective me further, but the conversation wouldn't have been started if I hadn't seen that post on tumblr. This was a budding concept with us due to the separation we had. It helped with integration. GRANTED... Not every alter got the memo, obviously, but It's something that I'm still working on. Of course, being me comes with the prerequisite that I am a person with DID, and that I am made up of multiple parts.

Now for the piece of advice I got from my therapist- Though it requires a certain level of knowledge of your own system, such as a list of alters and some identifying info [fav drinks, fav colors, those type of things]. Look at the list of your alters wherever it may be. Just whatever you use for logging your system members. Look for the commonalities between alters. There will be at least some commonalities.

For example; A good 45% of us like bunnies, 45% like cats, and 10% have a liking for other kinds of animals. Using this information, I can pretty much deduce that 1. the collective me loves animals and 2. the collective me likes cats and bunnies especially.

Another example; I looked through our simplyplural, which has a favorite color thing [in ours at least]. By looking through the list, I figured out 1. wow I like literally all colors- my fav color is rainbows and 2. I especially like pink and light blue.

More examples; the list.. THE LIST... I looked through it and saw that a good 90% of us like MONSTER ENERGY DRINKS- of varying flavors, but the common denominator was Ultra Strawberry Dreams, but all of us like [or tolerate] water as a preferred drink. From there I can come to the conclusion that I prefer water over anything else and that I have a problem with monster [being light hearted but I genuinely do].

I hope you get the idea I'm going for. I used this process for nearly every aspect of our collective identity, though some had to genuinely be voted on, such as our LGBTQIA+ labels [offline, we just call ourself queer, but that's.. aside the point LMAO].

Obviously, there are going to be outliers- Having DID comes with the fun [/s] aspect of alters being differentiated from each other in some capacity. Example for the monster energy one- We have a handful of alters that HATE energy drinks- even just fizzy drinks in general. There's one guy who will only drink Black Coffee and water- nothing else. He's the guy who is always hiding away our monsters in the way back of the fridge, but guess what!! He's me!! The part of me that doesn't want me to ruin my health over energy drinks. The part of me that knows I deserve better than my unhealthy habits.

Getting to know the collective you is just like learning about your system! It is not inherently different than figuring out what an alters dislikes or likes are. The idea of The Collective You shouldn't feel scary or anxiety inducing- if it is, you may want to confront those feelings with a therapist if you have access to one. Every CDD system is the collective [or, well, system] of one fragmented individual- That is a studied and objective fact. I wanted to give advice from one recovering system to another.

No, this will not work for everyone, every system is different, but I'm hoping this post finds the right audience in knowing that it's worth a shot to try this!

[tlbodine]

Stuck? Try junebugging.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.

Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?

If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!

What Is Junebugging?

Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.

The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?

OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:

Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.

Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.

I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.

I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.

Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.

This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.

It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.

Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.

[eye-may]

A Guide to ✨Jellicle Legends ✨

🔥In my pinned post era. 🔥

Was ist das? "Jellicle Legends" is the unofficial title of my CATS "fanverse." I'm creating this post to help people navigate the barely-coherent Legends cosmos.

About Legends: I like to say it's 100% "canon compliant," which is something I'm always big on, so I don't personally call it an "AU." On the other hand, we are talking about CATS. What even is "canon" for this intellectual property?

Basically you can think of it as my interstellar network of "headcanons" or how I generally construe CATS, based on many productions/companies/statements from cast alumni/etc. There is not one official production that I strictly adhere to! My fanverse is basically a web of my favorite ways in which to interpret the characters, their backstories and relationships, the world of CATS, etc.

Legends is also a continuation, of sorts; picking up immediately after the events of the musical, there is a story within that has a clear beginning, middle, and end. The characters all have their individual arcs and journeys, and the world itself has a bevy of systems/rules/cultures/etc. Ideally I would corporealize the saga with serialized comics, but that is 🎵time consuming🎵 so I'm never going to commit to that 100%. If/when I create comics, don't count on regular updates or completion. That said, you can ask me whatever you want about the story and I'll answer it comprehensively! No worries about "spoilers" because, like I said, I'm not interested in putting the pressure on myself to actually materialize a comprehensive comic series.

Keep in mind that this is just a casual, fun project for me, so I always just post ut fit; ideas are always coming, going, and changing, so sometimes I'll establish a concept or a design and then change my mind about it later! If you notice inconsistencies...that would be why. XD

All Legends posts are tagged "#CJL." If you ever post something pertaining to Legends yourself and you want me to see it, I encourage you to use this hashtag! I'm BEYOND thrilled whenever anybody engages with me about my fanon in any capacity whatsoever. ❤️

🐈Asks About Characters:

Who owns the cats? (Jennyanydots, Jellylorum, Tugger, Mistoffelees, Victoria, Demeter)

Thoughts on Coricopat and Tantomile?

Munkustrap Personality/Relationships

Which cat is the smallest?

Etcetera and Electra Relationship/Backstories

Pouncival and Tumblebrutus Relationship/Backstories

Thoughts on the Three Words (entire cast!)

Victoria and Jemima Backstories (+Victoria's relationship with Mistoffelees)

Plato Personality/Backstory

Tuggoffelees Headcanons

Demeter Backstory

Macavity and Mistoffelees's Relationship

Mistoffelees (Part 1, OUTDATED)

Mistoffelees (Part 2)

Grizabella Backstory

"Ships" (Tuggoffelees / Munkustrap & Alonzo / Demelarina / Bustopher & Mistoffelees)

Alonzo and Cassandra

Tugger

Misc. Headcanons (Munk, Tugger, Macavity, Mistoffelees, Deuteronomy) Some of these are OUTDATED.

🎨Art (#CJLart)

Note: This list includes sketches I did not necessarily for CJL, but that constitute concepts I may reference/apply to it, or that I think fit within it. (I.e., I drew Skimble for Jellicle January not based on any particular iteration of Skimble, and I think the design more or less represents how he appears in CJL).

Valentines Tuggoffelees

Mistoffelees in a cape (+Tugger)

Cute Tuggoffelees (ft. Mistoffelees's Demon Eyes)

Mistoffelees Splash Art

Sleepy Tuggoffelees (1)

Sleepy Tuggoffelees (2)

Munkustrap & Alonzo Doodle

Tall Jemima (+Terminally Short Mistoffelees)

Etcetera & Electra

"The Big Three" (Tugger, Munk, Misto) Christmas

Pouncival Ambushing Tumblebrutus

Tiny Mistoffelees (+Tugger and Alonzo)

Victoria & Mistoffelees, and also Jemima

Plato

Tuggoffelees Hug

Pouncival Triumphs Vertically Over Mistoffelees

Angsty Lyric Comic ft. Deut Bros + Mistoffelees

Macavity Apprehends Mistoffelees

Mistoffelees Design Concepts

Tugger and Mistoffelees Visit Jellylorum

Demelarina

Caramel

Alonzo and Rumpusgeorge

Skimble

Smol Angy Cavity

NBK and Patches

Dancing Jenny

NBK

[obsessedwrhys]

Aesthete

(adj.) Someone with a deep sensitivity to the beauty of art or nature

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ where Abby let's you draw a portrait of her

c/w: fluff, reader is female because I refuse to believe she's straight 😡, abby being insecure (?), gun talk, some cursing, just two lesbos bickering like a married couple, kissing, did not proof read this!!

ᯓ★

Inside your shared room, you somehow found yourself painting on another canvas after just telling yourself you'd be done with your last one. Since you were a kid, you've always been drawn towards anything that had to do with brushes and colours. It was better spending your time painting rather than talking to people, they were always rude or just straight off insensitive. All except for someone...

Abby...

She always adored your skills. Everytime you were assigned to go on patrols together, she would just peek her head from behind your shoulder to see what you were doodling in your journal. Out of everyone you knew, she was the one constantly bragging about your drawings to her friends. And you guys aren't even dating!!

Yet... which you always liked to tell yourself.

With your brush applying another soft stroke on the canvas, you started to grow bored of it, another idea already crawling up from the back of your mind. Maybe you could try doing a portrait, you have the experience but you just don't have the subject. Almost out of instinct, you knew who to find. Pretty much the only person you'd figure would be fine with this.

Abandoning your brush and pallette on the round chair, you decided to leave and try to find Abby. It wasn't hard to find her since she would spend almost all of her time in the gym. Swinging open the glass door, you headed in and walked past several other WLFs who were also training, your eyes glued to one person.

There she was, doing bench presses as usual.

You decided to stop a few feet away from where she was, almost like you were in a trance from watching her biceps flex each time she lifted the heavy weight. Not wanting to be seen as a creep, which you already have, you walked closer to make your presence known. "Hey Abby" You said with a smile. Your voice startling her a bit.

"Oh, hey" She said before setting the weight back to its rightful place. She sits up on the bench as she looks at you with a friendly smile. "You need anything?" She said, always kind and polite towards you that it somehow made you feel all giddy inside.

"I was wondering if you'd liked to be the subject of a portrait I'm doing" You said and your words struck her a bit. She looked like she just received news of something big. "Uhh... if you're worried about the portrait turning out ugly, I promise I'll be extra focused on the details" You said, figuring if that was the reason behind her reaction.

"Huh? Ah no, I wasn't worried about that. I'm just surprised you'd pick me" She chuckles awkwardly as she stands up, her height scaring you a bit. "Did you expect me to pick someone else?" You asked, the two of you walking side by side.

"Well... maybe I figured you'd choose someone more... elegant" She said, holding the door open for you to go first. "Elegant?" You scoff out of amusement.

"Didn't you show me one of your books? Where all of the people drawn were wearing those tight dresses and having their hair up so high" Abby said, recalling the memory.

"Pssh, that's different, trust me, I know what I'm doing" You opened the door to your room, inviting her inside.

"Whatever you say" She responded with a playful smile. Once you closed the door, her eyes were already examining around the room that's messy from all of your art stuff.

"Seems like you didn't take my advice" She said, looking at the stack of books you had thrown along with the pile of discontinued drawings.

"I'll do that later" You said dismissively since you realised everytime you cleaned your supplies, you were always gonna use it and make a mess anyways, best to save it for a day where you have the energy to clean.

"Soo uhh... what do I...?" Abby walks over to where you're busy setting a brand new canvas.

"You can just sit at the sofa so you can be right in front of me" You said, putting everything in place and she just does what you instructed. She finds herself seated in front of you and it somehow made her shy. Does she pose or...? This is all new to her.

"You can move your body around a bit, just try not to move your head a lot, so uh... relax" You said, already picking up your brush. "Got it" She said as she leans back onto the cushion.

With your focus on the portrait, you failed to notice the way she was watching you, her gaze was full of warmth and admiration. She was eyeing your every move as if she was watching a film.

"I never got to ask, how did you learn to paint?" Abby said and it made you stop in your act to think it over. "Can't remember exactly when, I just knew it was fun to do so I kept doing it" You simply responded and she smiles softly at your answer. "Fun huh? Is that why you're doing a portrait of me?" She said and her playful tone made you almost freeze in place.

"I guess you could say that" You said, your hand carefully doing the shades of her face. The room remained quiet for a moment, just faint sounds of your brush mixing together different colours on your pallete. "Can you lift your head up a bit?" You asked and she does just that. "Perfect" You said and quickly press your brush back on the canvas.

Your eagerness had her struggle to contain a smile. "If only you were this passionate about your gun training" She said since this was a topic that you could care less about.

"I don’t really like guns, it's too violent for me"

"True... but its also the reason why you're still alive. C'mon, at least fix your aim" She said which had you turn to look at her.

"Whats wrong with my aim?"

"Errr..." She trails off, struggling to find the right words but you were well aware of what she was trying to say. "Just try not to have your bullets flying everywhere" She said, her response having you raise an eyebrow at her.

"... don't make me draw a hairy moustache on you" You threatened which had her laugh.

"Am I supposed to find that scary?" She asked to which you pointed the end of your paintbrush at her to warn her to be careful of her next words. This action just encouraging her even more but for her sake of not wanting a horrendous looking moustache on her portrait, she'll stop.

After a while, she let's out a soft sigh. "Getting tired?" You asked, your face hidden by the canvas so she couldn't see you.

"A bit" She admitted with an embarrassed chuckle. Your head peaks from the side of canvas, trying to mimic the sweat that was still present on her forehead due to her earlier workout.

Without even realising, you were basically staring at her face a little too hard. It was funnier from Abby's perspective cause all she could see was your pair of eyes staring at her so intensely. "Am I too far away? You're looking pretty hard" She joked, pointing out how your brows were slightly narrowed.

You ended up shushing her which she found amusing. "I'm thinking, don't disrupt my thoughts" You said.

"Yes ma'am"

After a couple of minutes, you managed to finish the portrait, just a few details here and there then you were finally satisfied with yourself. "You can get up now" You said as you carefully added some tiny dots or lines. Abby pushed herself off the sofa and stood beside you.

"Damn" She said, blown away by the portrait you had done of her. It was like a reflection in a mirror. "What are you gonna do with it?" Abby asked as you stepped back to finally admire your work. "I don't know... maybe I'll hang it up somewhere in my room" You said. This caught her interest almost immediately. "You want a portrait of me in your room?" She asked, seeming embarrassed.

"Well do you want it in your room?" You asked which made her go silent.

"It's fine, I really don't mind, you'd be surprised by how many scary things I've painted and displayed on my walls" You said, carefully picking up the canvas and moving it to the other side of the room. Abby simply follows you with her arms folded.

"Comparing my face to scary things doesn't make it sound any better" She said and you could sense a tiny hint of frustration in her tone which had you chuckle to yourself. "Stop being a baby and help me hang this up" You said after finding a open spot on the wall to put it.

"You.are.unbelievable" She shakes her head slightly with a defeated smile as she takes the canvas from your hand before standing on the chair to hang it on to the nail.

Once she was done, she stepped down from the chair to stand beside you. The two of you now staring at the portrait.

"I have to admit, you're really gifted" Abby said and it made you turn your head to look at her. "Thanks" You smiled at her compliment. The second she turns to look at you, you felt yourself melt at her stare as if her blue eyes were hypnotising you. You swore for a second you could see hearts popping up around her.

Why is she looking at you like that?

Like you're the single most beautiful thing she has ever seen

"If you uh don't mind... could I stay for a while?" She asked, her voice so soft it was intoxicating.

"Sure" You blurted out without even thinking twice.

Noticing how flustered you looked, Abby tilts her head with a grin. "You okay?" She asked but her tone was anything but concern, it was like she was teasing you, knowing the effect she had on you.

"Yeahh, I'm good" You turned around and began walking back to your supplies, feeling as though you needed to escape her presence quickly to be able to think straight.

"Are you sure? Cause you looked like you wanted to kiss me just now" She said and it stopped you from reaching out to your brushes. Your mind was short circuiting.

Fuck this woman...

"And what if I said I wanted to?" You managed to say since it was easier that you weren't looking at her.

Suddenly you could hear her footsteps approaching you from behind, almost like each step she took added a weight in your chest. The tension on you shoulders relaxed the moment you felt her hands placed on them, gently, she turned you around to have you face her.

"Then kiss me" She said, no, pleaded. Her face showing how much she also wanted this.

You leaned in closer to her, the two of you haven't even kissed yet but just from the feeling of your chests pressed together made you both breathless. Eventually you pressed your lips on hers, taking it slow as you wanted to savour this moment, but it didn't last long as the desperation started to grew.

Within seconds, you were kissing Abby hard and she did the same, her hand wrapped around the back of your neck while the other is placed on your hip. The kiss was messy. Your hands grabbing at whatever you could on her body as you were completely lost in the taste of her.

Your touch was driving her crazy as well, thinking back to the countless nights of how she much she wanted this. To have you this close, to have you melt just from her lips. Out of breath and feeling tired, you pulled away but Abby didn't let you and quickly pulled you back in for another kiss. Her action causing you to yelp and for a sec she felt her stomach flip. She chuckles.

"So pretty" She muttered before pressing her lips back on yours again and again, not wanting the moment to end.

"Abby..." You laid your hands on her arms and she pulled back to admire you. The mess she had made of you.

"Yes...?" She said, gently caressing your face.

"You keep kissing me and I'm gonna pass out" You said and your words had her chuckle softly.

"Sorry, can't help it when your lips are so sweet" She said, her thumb rubbing on your cheek affectionately.

"Did you think this would happen when you asked me to come over?" She asks.

"Ummm... maybe?" You said. You had a feeling something might happen but you never thought it'd turn out like this.

"I've just liked you for a very long time but I wasn't sure you felt the same" You confessed and her smile grew wider.

"Seriously? What, was me bragging about you to everyone not obvious enough? Should I have been starting a fan club for you so you'd find out better?" She teased and you smacked her on the shoulder playfully.

"Maybe you should, then I'd know that you actually liked me" She sighs, pretending to act like she's regretting this missed opportunity.

"You're right. Maybe if I did start a massive fan club dedicated to you, we would of had this kiss sooner" She said, leaning in closer to have her forehead rested on yours.

"Well we're here now aren't we?" You looked up at her, a smirk on your face.

"True" She then started to move and you couldn't help but let your eyes flutter close, waiting for her to kiss you again but somehow the feeling of her lips on yours never came.

You opened your eyes and found her actually moving her lips inches away from your ears instead. "How about we clean your room now, hm?" She said which had you in disbelief. She was now reminding you of how dirty your room is after just kissing you.

"If tidying up my things is so much fun then sure" You moved away from her but she was quick to follow you.

"If I get to spend more time with you, I don't see anything boring about it" Abby said, already on to arrange your stack of unorganised books. You watch her with a look of gratitude, knowing this mess is gonna take a very long time to clean.

"Thanks Abs"

"You can thank me with a kiss after we're done" She shoot you a cheeky smile which had you roll your eyes with the corner of your lips curving upwards.

"Fine" You stood beside her to help with putting your books in order. Seeing how focused you were, Abby couldn't help but have her hip nudging yours on purpose to get your attention. You chuckle, knowing this cleaning session is gonna take a while.

(Now I'm gonna do super duper angst Ellie, this plot has been stuck on my mind 😄)

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Mike

Summary: A new intern is assigned to your department.

A/N: Mike is from Hellraiser: Hellworld. If you need an idea as to what his character is like, I highly recommend this gif set.

Warnings: Age gap (Reader is 10+years older than Mike). Power imbalance.

Previous

Tech Tuesday Masterlist

As soon as you're out of the meeting, you're looking for some aspirin. The monthly managers meeting was always a real pain in the ass. It's become a little less hostile since Lloyd must have found himself a new toy to play with, but he's still Lloyd. To his credit, he can be pretty damn creative at insulting people without getting in trouble with HR. But it's still over an hour with a bunch of people arguing over resources and timelines and other boring things. All you can do is take your notes, go to bat for your team, and chug your coffee.

On your way to your office, where you know you have some Excedrin, you detour through the break room and get yourself something sweet from the vending machines. You know you should watch your blood sugar or whatever, but meeting days are always rough and you deserve that boston cream snack pie with a side of coffee.

Finally at your desk you let yourself take some deep breaths before reaching for the Excedrin. A couple of pills, some coffee and follow it up with a bite of the calorie bomb, sugar dense, definitely-bad-for-you creamy treat. You let out a soft moan and relax into your chair.

Until a second later when there's a loud knock on your door followed by Mike walking in, "hey Boss Lady, you got a minute?"

You rush to swallow the bite in your mouth and chug some more coffee to help it down but wind up choking a bit in the process.

"Oh, shit! I'm so sorry!" Mike exclaims running behind your desk to start smacking your back, likely thinking there's something stuck in your throat. You try to wave him away and while he does stop hitting you, he stays nearby, his eyes wide with worry. He's shaking so much you'd laugh if you could catch your breath.

When you finally regain your composure, you let out a breath and gesture for Mike to sit. He does so hesitantly.

"You're sure you're okay?"

"I am," you nod with a smile. "You'd think, at my age, I'd be past making a fool of myself but, let's face it, there's no age limit on that." He smiles back at you. "Now, what is it you wanted to talk about?"

"Oh, right!" His eyes go wide and he grabs his notebook. You've noticed he's always carrying one ever since your talk about taking notes. "So, I've got some preliminary things figured out, some user design basics, but I was wondering if I could spend some time with Steve and Bucky in the IT department? They work on accessibility stuff and I'd like to incorporate some of those."

"What kind of features are you thinking?"

"Well, no one in the department's mentioned it, but I'd like to include some features for like, colorblindness. I'm hoping to learn a bit about adding things like that. Just in case someone is colorblind but maybe doesn't know it, or it's mild but still annoying?"

"Alright, I'll talk to Jonathan about getting you some time with them," you say as you write yourself a note. "I make no promises, of course."

"Of course," he smiles. You swear if you were just 10 years younger you'd be swooning over his boyish charm.

"Anything else?"

Mike looks over his notes, "um...I know there was something. No. Wrong page. Ah! There it is!" You fight the urge to chuckle as he rereads his notes. "Right, so there are some tables that seem to have different names depending on who you're talking to. And none of them seem to be the tables' actual names! What should I do?"

"How about you bring that up at the next meeting? Do a little demonstration showing everyone that these different names apply to the same table and we can see about a vote or a naming compromise for the interface."

Mike writes down everything you say and you give a genuine smile. Not a lot of interns would take advice so easily. That first meeting really must have melted his brain.

As you're making a note to yourself to add Mike to the next meeting agenda you notice he's looking uncomfortable.

"Are you okay, Mike?"

"I just...um...How do I put this?" he mumbles as he runs his hand through his hair. "My parents are going to be in town next week for, um, Parents' Weekend at the college. They, um, they'd like to meet you." Your eyebrows raise at that and he's quick to put up both of his hands, " you don't have to, of course! I'll absolutely understand if you'd rather not! They just...they want to see where I'm working."

"If you can give me more details on a day and time I'll see what I can do," you promise. "It's not every day we get an Intern's parents visiting, but I'm sure Jonathan would be happy to help make it happen."

"You really don't have to." Mike almost sounds disappointed.

"Would you like me to say it can't happen?" He hesitates at that. "Do you need me to be the bad guy for you?" His face drops but you swear you see his cheeks turn a little pink when you say that. "Look, family can be very complicated. You will receive no judgment from me if you'd rather your parents didn't know about your work place, okay?"

"Thank you," he murmurs.

"And I promise, no follow up questions on the family."

He relaxes at that. "Thank you so much, Boss!"

You give a soft chuckle instead of asking him not to call you that. It's clearly something he'll never listen to you about. And, to be honest, you don't mind it so much.

"So, if your family asks, you can tell them we simply don't do tours for family members. They can visit the building, but they're not allowed past the lobby."

His smile grows and he gets animated again. "Thank you, so very much!" His smile drops as he remembers something. "Oh! Also, I'm gonna need next week off from work for their visit."

You make a note, "shouldn't be a problem. I'll push your agenda item to the meeting in two weeks instead of next week's."

"Thanks, Boss! You're the best!"

He practically jumps out of his chair and runs out of your office leaving you smiling, shaking your head and wondering if you ever had that level of energy.

Next

Tech Tuesday Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kingliam2019; @kmc1989; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @thecrandle

[libbylubb]

Staring Content - Angela Giarratana

After you heard about the staring content you wasn't sure if they were kidding or not. But as you sat behind the camera and watched them you knew you weren't kidding. Well, you kind of figured last night too. Angela, your wife, had totally forgot about it until you brought it up at bed time.

Last night

You sat in bed, all ready for bed with your book and reading glasses in hand. Angela was coming out of the bathroom connected to your bedroom while applying some night cream to her face. She was humming softly and a small smile immediately came to your face. Without taking your eyes off your book you pulled the duvet next to you to the side, making it ready for her. Angela took off her slippers and removed her hoodie, only in a sports bra and some female boxers. Now it got hard to continue looking at your book. She stretched her arms over her head with a soft sigh. You looked over at her with a smile. Angela stopped in her tracks and smiled before turning her head to you and smiled, "hey baby," she said softly. As much as people told her and you, that she was too loud, you both knew it wasn't ALWAYS true. As of now. She walked over to you, taking her glasses off as she snuggled in next to you, only her toes under the duvet. You kissed her forehead softly, making her hum. You turned back to your book before speaking up, "Ready for tomorrow?" you asked. The duvet was now over her as she was laying down and you still sitting, but that didn't last long. "What do you mean?" "The staring content," you said, turning to her. By the look on her eyes you knew she had forgot, "Angela," you sighed, chuckling softly. "Damn it!" She huffed, covering her eyes. "I promise you, Amanda has practiced like a week," "No, love," You placed you book to the side, you glasses following right after. You lied down next to her on your side. "You'll do great, and it's not that bad that you forgot. Everyone does that! It's not like you have to have something prepa-" "Practice with me," Angela interrupted, "What?" She cupped your cheeks with both her hands. "Please, I'll go down on yo-" You covered her mouth laughing, "I'll practice with you, but not because i want you to go dow-" "Can I still go do-" "Yes," You laughed.

At the current moment

You sat chuckling to yourself at your chaotic friends and wife. Now they started just having eye contact without laughing. "Oh damn," You whispered, knowing your wife was fucked. But as soon as it started she did extremely well. "Angela goes to a different place," You heard Shayne. "She goes somewhere dark," Chance said laughing. She still wasn't breaking. You were honestly impressed, and thought you would test it later that night...

Later that night you were in the position you were earlier, well almost. Angela was on her way to bed but you were nowhere to be seen. "Y/N?" She spoke, worry lacing the sound of your name. As she saw your phone on the bed she couldn't help but feel even more worried. "Y/N!" She said a little louder. "Baby, are yo-" "I'm right here," You said softly, leaning against the open door. You locked eyes with her, lust in your eyes as well as the dark red lingerie you're wearing. You knew it was Angela’s favourite. Her mouth started to water as she laughed a little, "you scared me," She said, walking towards you. You did the same, grabbing her hands and kissing them, before turning her around and pinning her arms above her head against the wall. She lost her breath looking you up and down. "What has gotten into you?" She asked, her face red. "I feel so undressed," She mumbled, looking away. You grabbed her face with one hand, the other hand still holding hers up. "Don't say that, Angela. You're beautiful with whatever you're wearing, fully clothes or naked, slumped or formal. You'll always be my beautiful girl," She smiled widely, "I love you y/n but what is this?" You smiled and picked her up, she squealed, hugging you tightly. "Y/N!" She laughed, "tell meeeeeeeeeee!"

You laid her down on the bed and kissed her deeply. She hummed into it, pulling you closer. "Today," you started, pulling away and straddling her. "at the live stream, you were really hard to break," "Oh God," she mumbled. "Hush, he's not with us right now, it's just you and me," She laughed, you smiled. "Anyway, I wanted to test it. But not with laughing. Cause we both know you can't hold yourself because I'm so hilarious," "Shut up," She chuckled, hitting your arm. "So, if I, do this..." You took your hand under your shirt. She bit her lip, looking up at you. "I want you to be completely silent, when I go down on you. If you make a noise, I pull away," You smirked. She groaned, "Y/N!" She knew she was in for a long night.

[velvetvexations]

It's been awhile since I elaborated on my gender feelings, and I've had a lot of further thoughts, so here's a post about that. It's kinna unfocused. I don't really have many segues between points, I'm just throwing stuff out there. Maybe I'll edit it into something more readable later.

I identify with both the words "male" and "woman" because I feel them both about equally, intertwined, and sex and gender are equally arbitrarily. Most trans women are female, and like, that's great for them, but I'm not. I'm a male and I'm happy to be a male. While the word "man" is completely alien to me and I have having it applied to me, I do feel a strong kinship with other queer males, particuarly trans men and gay cis men.

One could theoretically call me bisexual, but I don't really vibe with being bi. When I'm with someone who also identifies as male, I'm a gay male, and when I'm with someone who identifies as female, I'm a straight male. I feel very strongly about that, not because I have anything against bi people, who are all very lovely, but being a gay male and a straight male at once is very key to how I experience gender.

I actually feel very seen when TERFs talk about trans women being parodies of femininity, and feeling insulted by the appropriation of womanhood as a costume. Other trans women aren't anything like that, but actually, my womanhood is very much satirical, and people who are offended by that should be offended by me. I am mocking women and femininity when I put on a skirt and call myself a woman, at least to ones who find that insulting in the first place.

If you're a cis woman who isn't offended by the idea of someone AMAB wearing a skirt, there's nothing offensive about me, but for someone for whom that constitutes an insult, yes, good, that's what I'm going for! Be insulted! I am parodying you. Especially when I dress up in hyper-pink frilly sissy outfits. "Bleh, look at me, this is what a woman is lol!"

You'd think people who consider themselves gender abolitionists would be more onboard with the idea of parodying gender. But a lot of TRFs are also offended by me in the opposite direction, though they disguise it as parternalistic worry over my "self-hate."

I would probably be the most normie woman ever if I had been allowed to transition when I was younger, but I wasn't, and now I'm the pornsick male crossdresser some other women, both cis and trans, feel extistentially threatened by. And TRFs take that as me indulging in self-hate, when it's entirely love for who I am. I like being a pornsick male crossdresser and calling my womanhood fake and artificial. I'm a fake and artificial person.

You'd think people who talk about themselves as robot girls all the time would be on board with this, but they use robots as a tortured metaphor for their victimhood, whereas it's much more empowering for me, and tbh goes a lot harder.

The thing is, yes, I'm a pornsick male crossdresser who performs womanhood much the same way a clown performs at a circus, but there's nothing underneath that! A statue of a woman is a fake woman but that doesn't make the statue a man. I simply am the idea of artificial womanhood, stripped of what makes that cute and gender validating for people really into that doll kink universe. I'm built with the wrong parts, big and hairy, with a deep voice, and when people see me they see a fake woman, and that makes me kick my legs in the air because that's what I am. Still not a man. Just a fake woman.

That doesn't mean everyone with those traits is a fake woman. Gender is inherently fake and not real and has no rules. The same person could be a he/him or a she/her or a xi/xir and you would never know because it's just an internal thing. Only you can decide if you're a man or a woman or whatever, or if you're male or female or both or neither.

And my gender, in many ways, is the embodiment of the transmisogynistic caricature. If you're cool about very butch trans women my existence shouldn't be insulting to you and you just move on, but some trans women are really bothered by that, and like with cis women, it's like, okay lol, good. Be insulted. I am parodying all womanhood, you're included in that, you're welcome. I am a nexus of misogyny for people who want so badly to see misogyny in another person dressing and performing gender the wrong way. I am a living monument of spite towards anyone who wants to control the self-expression of others based on their own insecurities. And in the course of my being a gay clown who calls myself a woman, I will make gender into a balloon animal, and everyone else - the ones who accept and encourage freedom of self-expression in others, who know that nothing I do for myself has to have implications for them - will be delighted.

[harrystylesfan2686]

Burnt Pie

Pairing: Morden!Azriel x Reader

Warning: Slight angst. Fluff.

Summary: When you come home to find out your husband tried to bake something but it goes terribly wrong.

A/N: This is my first Acotar fic and I want to say thank you to @azsazz for this amazing idea:)

Masterlist

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The first thing I smell when I enter our house is burning smell. I frown and look around in search to find the source Andy husband.

"Azriel!" I yell while taking off my shoes and cot. Hearing a sudden shout, that sounded alot like him, I speed walk to the kitchen to find a disaster.

I gasp at smoke relaesing from the oven that has covered our whole kitchen with black smoke, making it impossible for me to see anything. I quickly open the kitchen window and door wider to lit it out.

I see azriel bunched over the sink and run to him. ''What happened here?!'' I take a sharp breath when I notice his hand under the water with a large burn.

''Don't worry, love, it's Alright.'' He tries consul me. ''Yeah right. You probably don't feel the burn can you?'' I scoff.

We stay silent for minute when I turn off the oven, take out whatever it was in it that turned into a black rock, and put it outside while Azriel continues trying to soften the burn.

I quietly turn off the tub, taking his other hand and guide him to the bathroom. ''Sit.'' I gesture to the toilet sit and take out the emergency kit. I gently take his hand after grabbing a cloth and dab carefully around the burn. ''Explain.''

He clears his throat and speaks. ''I was trying to bake a pie.'' I raised an eyebrow at him to elaborate and squeezed some burn cream in a cotton ball. ''I got a promotion today.'' My eyes snapped to eyes in surprise as a smile grows on my face. ''Honey, that's great. Congratulations.'' He nods and I continue applying the cream.

''Thanks. It is great, that's why I thought maybe I'll bake a pie and surprise you and we'll celebrate together. But we know how that turned out.'' He head drops and I put the cotton aside. ''Oh, Az, it's alright. I'm not upset or anything.''

''You're not?'' He looks at me.

''No of course not. Why would I be? You wanted to do something nice for us and you tried. Just because you failed once doesn't we can't try again. And I'm really happy that you wanted celebrate you achievement with me.'' I kiss his cheek.

''I love you.'' He smiles.

''I love you too. Now let's patch you up and we'll try to bake that pie again. Ok?"

"Ok." He wraps his other hand around my waist and kisses my forehead. I chuckle and wrap gauze on his injury.

Later that night we did celebrate, wrapped up in a blanket together while eating our freshly, perfectly baked pie and watching our favorite movie.

Some times you just have to try again.

[gin-juice-tonic]

can i ask how youre able to make so many comics or if you have any tips for aspiring internet funny comic makers? your gag comics are always so creative and funny and well-executed, and your longer form stuff is just a delight to read, i would love to know if u have any advice/insight into yr process

I'm not good at advice so you will have to bear with me here. Also I'm putting it under a readmore cause images make it into a long post. The like first 3/4th of this I talk about specific comics I did, but if you scroll to the end I tried to give some general advice.

My stuff is unfortunately very inspiration-based as opposed to planning-based. So my process might not be helpful if you're looking for something structured... The first thing I should say is I write down basically anything that pops into my head ever. I have a bunch of nonsensical tumblr drafts,

I have stuff in my phones notes app,

I have pages and pages of papers and post-it notes littering my apartment (if you want to know the extent, my sister asked me how I could live with my apartment being so "messy". The only messy thing in it is my papers scattered about). I find the paper stuff the best, because I can draw instead of just writing down concepts.

This is the page I did for the comic about Stan "comforting" Dipper over his unrequited crush on Wendy. (The tumblr version being here)

You will notice aside from the order on the page being strange and some scratched out dialogue, there's not really evidence of a 'plan' here. That's because I was just drawing this as I was thinking it. You will also notice there are two random unrelated Ford drawings in the middle of the page. That's because I was drawing ANYTHING that I was thinking of.

And when I say write down anything, I do mean it. Write down something you did that week, something you remember from when you were 8, something you said out loud and laughed at, things you thought about in the shower, a fact you learned, what your friend had for dinner. See if you can apply it to something. I've mentioned before that this comic only exists because I ran out of toilet paper and went to buy a large bulk pack of it...

When I already have a base idea and just want to expand on it, I usually draw first ask questions later, and things seem to just snowball into being a story. As an example, for the comic I did about Dipper's swimsuit, the base idea was just "Dipper and Stan both wear fully covering swimwear - because they're trans and its what they're comfortable with." But when I went to look up what Dipper wore to the pool, i noticed mabel had a Star one piece suit

Dipper has a star hat in the first episode that he loses, right? SO why don't we give him a matching star one piece that he abandons.

Of course then that single drawing CREATES the story, because we have to explain how he eventually ends up in what he's wearing in the episode. And then I just draw and draw and draw until either the comic ends or I can't continue for whatever reason. The outline for the full thing usually forms while I'm drawing. If I'm worried about forgetting, I'll write down what comes next.

Some of this stuff I didn't stick to, or greatly expanded upon. It's good to be flexible with what you're doing. If something you originally intended only to be a throwaway bit inspires you, roll with it and keep going. (If it ends up being nothing, you can always discard it or turn it into something else later anyway)

I did the swimsuit one basically fully on my computer, but if you want to see another paper based one, a lot of the comic with the kid stans and crampelter I'm doing currently is down on paper.

If you can make out my writing, you can see it says "Crampelter has found out about Stan and Ford's boxing identities" at the top there, which was the general main idea of this part of the comic. This one was a lot more planned than the dipper swimsuit one. There's multiple pages of this sort of stuff, and I knew the idea I wanted was "If Ford and Stan are trans, why would they still be called those names as kids?" (So I guess the takeaway from this one is if you're wanting a structured comic, write down the main idea on the top of a page and brainstorm dialogue and drawings on it?)

There's a lot of sort of floating heads with dialogue, all that matters is I get the emotions or general idea drawn. They're important for me to draw out because being able to "see" the scene (even if I'm seeing it heavily unfinished) is what usually inspires the next bit of the comic.

And I know I talked like a lot already but some general other advice:

Draw, ask questions about what you've drawn, draw more to answer the questions, see if those new drawings ask any new questions, continue this process till you come to a satisfying resolution.

It's fine to not draw something immediately after you've thought of it. I have a lot of things I've just squirreled away for later. And in the same vein its okay to drag something old up that you've never used and try to work with it.

I almost always put on music while I'm trying to think of things. Something I feel fits the mood of what I'm doing tonally. And then I usually just put the same song on repeat, though some people im sure would feel like that is psychological torture. But its helpful to me.

This might sound silly if you're someone who leaves the house a societally normal amount, but I try to go out into the world and do things so I get new ideas and experiences I can build on. Sometimes those things are literally just "go to the park", but sometimes it's venturing out somewhere several hours away or doing an activity i'd never care to do normally... I try to take note of anything that stood out to me and write down thoughts or feelings I had during.

When it comes to trying to be "funny", you should try to make yourself laugh first. Not only because you want your comics to bring yourself joy, but also because its just hard to make stuff you don't care about (And harder to be consistent about it). Though if you think of something and you don't really think its funny, you don't have to throw it away! You might be surprised what other people end up liking. So don't kill yourself to write jokes you yourself don't really get, but if your brain spits out something on its own you dont care much for, it still may be gold to someone else.

It's okay to make comics about simple and relatable things. People love relating. And depending on what you're writing about, that relatability may be really needed!

Everyone has something of value to say. Even if you yourself don't feel like the things you're saying matter, or that they're too silly or un-serious to matter. They matter.

[until-another-one-comes]

On one hand, I’m excited for story mode. On the other hand, I just know there’s gonna be discourse amongst the fans because once they reveal how the characters are actually like, they’re gonna be mad because it won’t fit their headcanons, especially Francis. I’m positive that those Francis fans who simp over him for his looks are not gonna be happy that he’s not some dom daddy. If they reveal that Francis is just some regular guy, some batshit insane serial killer or some dubious guy, I just know they’re not gonna be happy. This applies to every character in the game. To be fair, the game doesn’t reveal much about the lore of their characters so they have nothing to build off of.

It’s kinda like in The Amazing Digital Circus where fans are upset that Jax is some asshole when it’s the entire point. Characters have flaws for a reason and it’s Nacho sama’s story.

Lately, I've been very hesitant to indulge in my headcanons and other intrepretations because I'm really worried I'd get too attached to something that will later turn out to be VASTLY different in canon. I already feel this way about Francis/Nacha and I confess- I'd be very very sad if Francis and Steven won't have any positive interactions at all in any future updates, even though theres NO obligation at all for Nacho-sama to have them interact.

Sorry I know that was off topic but I just wanted to get that off my chest.

Anyways- yeah, there might be discourse, but I don't think there would be too much of it because from what I've seen most people are chill, and I'm pretty sure most of them would just continue doing their own thing regardless of whether or not canon would debunk their headcanons or aus or intrepretations or whatever.

(sorry for repeating myself but if francis/nacha are canonly divorced and have a strained relationship I would simply plug my ears and close my eyes and carry on blissfully with my fantasy of them being in love. no. I refuse to accept that leave me be)

As for the Francis fans who simp for him hard, ehhhhhh I don't think they'd really care if he turns out to be just Some Guy (aka, my favorite version of him) cuz like, if they're already portraying him as a buff dom daddy or whatever I don't think any amount of canon story would stop them from continuing that WKDIFNJC.

And from what I've seen, there really isn't a really POPULAR headcanon among the fandom, everyone has their own intrepretation for every characters which lessens the chance of any serious discourse happening when we get story mode. The only really popular 'fanon' intrepretation I've seen is Angus being a Shady Guy.

So yeah TLDR: I understand your concern, but don't worry I'm sure the fandom would be chill with whatever Nacho-sama will come up for these characters. While I have my own headcanon and intrepretation I cherish dearly I'm open and willing to accept whatever story mode will bring to us. And if I don't, no big deal, I'll just stick to my own thing and I'm sure most people feel the same way. It's all good!

Sidenote: The only thing that would make me kind of upset if it turns out to be canon is if Izaack/Steven is a douchebag, but thats it.

[mirx-xko-offical]

Falling for you?

Hurt!Floyd x GN!Reader

TWs: None<3 (I think-)

INFO~

ALREADY ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP FLOYD BEING A TOTAL DUMBASS (We still love him tho) IMPLIED GN READER Also not proof read but I'll worry abt that later-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What do you mean by, You simply fell again?"

"I meant I fell, what else."

"YOU GOT BLASTED OUT OF A WINDOW-"

"And..?"

"Oh my sevens..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who wouldn't just love to have their own personal nurse? Floyd surely should especially with how much [Name] needs to help him. Floyd always seem to shake it off though. Speaking about [Name], here they are patching him up YET again.

"And how did this happen..?" [Name] said as they stood in the nurses office with the twins, seeming done with their life already.

"I fell." Floyd shrugged only getting 'Are you sure' stares from his partner. "Jade? What happened to him?" [Name] Turned to the slightly smaller twin, clearly not trusting their boyfriend one bit.

"Well we had some complications while in professor Crewels class."

"And..?"

"He got blasted out of the window."

The look on [Name]'s face as they turned to look at their boyfriend who was just looking out the window as if nothing had just happened. "You got thrown out of a window and you're telling me you tripped??"

"Yep." Floyd looked over to his partner, leaning back into the bed seeming to not care. "HOW ARE YOU SO CALM ABOUT THIS!?" They panicked as they ran to cup the merman's cheeks, carefully checking for injuries.

"I'm fine~ like I said, I just fell." All his partner gave him was a sigh before shooing his brother out and simply grabbing band aids and a small wrap of bandages. "Did you at least break anything..?"

"Nope."

"How the fu... Whatever I give up on questioning things."

[Name] simply shrugged before grabbing some alcohol and cotton balls. "Well since you survived that fall without breaking anything, I don't think I'd need to warn you about the alcohol." [Name] assumed, pouring some of the liquid onto the small, fluffy ball

"Yeah, yeah whatever." Floyd simply grumbled, his mood swinging quite a bit. "Just get it over with- OW!" Floyd jumped as [Name] placed the cotton ball on Floyd's cheek, making him jump in surprise.

"Be easy jeez!"

"How the hell did that hurt!?"

"Now it stings!" Floyd whined as [Name] gave him another look. "No way you could handle a two story drop but not some alcohol..." [Name] was nonetheless getting tired of their boyfriends antics.

[Name] sighed before applying the alcohol to his cuts and bandaged him up, giving him a kiss on the cheek as a reward for not whining as much as he usually would.

"Now the hard part is over." [Name] mumbled, seemingly talking to them self more than their partner. "Meh. That just means I gotta go to work now~" [Name] smacked him on the head before dragging him out of the nurses office.

"Off you go. I have to go check on grim anyways." [Name] shoved him off of them, running away before he could latch himself on them again.

"Awh..."

Why is Floyd so silly to write 🤭

Anyways this is my first time writing on here and I kinda didn't know what to do yet so here you guys go <3

I also might start posting on wattpad again (If I have motivation-) so if you want to, go follow! (Pls do not read my other stories, half of them were given up on...)

Account<3