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exhaslo · 4 months

Note

I love your work so muchhhh <333

Can you do one where it's like you and Miguel are dating and it's only been like a couple weeks and he finds out you have an eating disorder and he is really supportive :)

(Also can't wait for more of puzzle pieces I love it <<<333)

Awe thank you!!! Also, sorry this was so late, holiday season got me working like crazy!

Also, not sure which eating disorder you want me to write, so I'll write this one based off a personal one.

Warning: Mentions of eating disorder, fluff

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Am I pretty enough for him?

Am I thin enough?

Am I even good enough?

A shudder escaped your lips as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Yet another day went by as these raging thoughts consumed your mind. No matter how perfect your life was. No matter how perfect of a boyfriend you had. You always worried that you were still not good enough.

Your stomach rumbled, causing you to groan lowly. You had skipped breakfast and were now planning on skipping lunch. You needed to get thinner. You wanted to be perfect for Miguel. You wanted people to believe that you were good enough for him.

You glanced at yourself once more in the mirror. You looked fine. As long as you looked the part, it was fine. Checking the time once more, you hurried. Miguel was going to pick you up and take you out on a date.

Hopefully there won't be a dinner option.

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There was a dinner option.

You kept your smile towards your loving boyfriend as Miguel walked you into a nice restaurant. You were so happy to find someone like him. Miguel was tall, strong, handsome and so kind to you. No one had ever checked all of those boxes.

"Wow, this place is beautiful. How'd you find this place, Miguel?" You asked, staring in awe at the architeceture.

"Well, I get a lot of recommendations from my coworkers that I usually tune out," He told you.

You chuckled lowly, finding his dull humor cute and funny. Miguel worked at Alchemax, one of the largest companies in the world. He was a great scientist, honestly an actual genius for his age. All the more reason why you had to be perfect for him.

All eyes were on Miguel. He was well known for what he did at Alchemax, that and he was the CEO's son; something that he did not like to admit. So money was also not an issue for him. Another secret box you had to check off.

"Order whatever you want. I was told the food here is amazing," Miguel said as he started with a drink. You hesitated,

"Oh, I'm not really hungry. Maybe just an appetizer." You lied. Miguel watched you order a water,

"Are you sure?"

"Yep!"

--------

Miguel kept staring at you as you scanned the menu. He furrowed his brows, observing your every movement. Miguel did not want to say anything yet, especially not in public. Instead, Miguel decided to order a bunch of food for himself.

"All of that?" You nearly gasped. Miguel resisted a chuckle,

"I had a long morning. Need to refuel, you can help yourself to try any of it." He offered.

Miguel saw your hesitated smile before you refused his offer. Once the table side bread came in, Miguel watched as you nearly drooled for them. He swore there were tears forming as you held back from eating. As concerned as he was, Miguel knew better than to ask you here.

He didn't want you to cry in public. Miguel didn't want to hurt you in anyway. There had to be a reason why you were holding back. Miguel was understanding. He wanted to know what you were thinking. What you were feeling.

"Wow, everything smells so good," You whispered as the waiter placed the mountain of food in front of the two of you.

"Enjoy," Miguel hummed as he stared at your salad, "Hm, looking at it now, I don't think I can eat all of this alone."

"B-But why did you order so much?!"

"It looked and sounded good," Miguel chuckled towards your reaction.

You looked so cute when you were eager to try something new. You were just perfect to Miguel. The smile on your face as you did anything new with him was enough. Just your touch alone was enough for Miguel.

You were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

And Miguel wanted to make sure that he was being a good boyfriend to you.

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Dinner was both amazing, yet horrible. Your stomach was hurting so much because you were starving. All of that food just made you want to cry. It looked so good, but if you even took a bite, you knew that you would gain so much weight.

"(Y/N), now that we're alone, may I ask you something?" Miguel asked softly as you sat in his car.

"Sure,"

"Why are you forcing yourself to starve?" His voice was low as he turned to face you, "You look exhausted, baby, and pale. I'm worried for your health."

"Ah-"

You were at a loss for words. Before you could even process a response in your mind, your tears rolled down like a broken dam. Your chest tighten and burned as you tried to control yourself. Your breathing shallow as you whimpered those sad sobs you've been holding back.

"Baby, don't cry. Come here," Miguel pulled you into his embrace, rubbing your back, "How long have you been holding this in?"

"I-I just...I'm not good enough for you. I need to lose weight. I'm too fat." You sobbed into his chest. Miguel stroked your hair,

"You're perfect," Miguel sighed softly, thinking about his words very carefully, "Starving yourself isn't the way to lose weight. You're just hurting yourself."

"It's the only way I can. I...I can't eat anything or..."

"(Y/N), eating a healthy meal won't make you gain weight. No matter what you look like, I will always love you."

"I...But-"

"How about this, for every meal I eat...You eat." Miguel offered, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

Your heart raced with fear as you looked at Miguel. You couldn't eat. You just couldn't. You were convinced that everything was going to make you gain weight. You had to eat less. You needed to lose weight for him.

"You're perfect, (Y/N). My perfect girl," Miguel whispered as he pecked your lips, "It hurts seeing you in pain."

"You say that now...But when I'm overweight-"

"I'll love you just the same." Miguel said firmly, "We'll start slow. Easy and simple foods then we can move on to bigger meals, okay?"

"...Small...right?"

"Yes, small."

You fiddled with your thumbs as Miguel kept comforting you. You could still feel how hot your cheeks were from crying. Your eyes stung and you were parched. Sniffling lowly, you glanced at your wonderful boyfriend,

"...I am...a little hungry..." You whispered. Miguel smiled as he put his seatbelt on,

"Is soup a good small start for you?"

"I'd like that,"

--------

From then on, Miguel helped you eat more little by little. With each meal he praised you and comforted your looks. Miguel helped your self esteem every day. His loving comments and actions helped you finally eat normally.

Eventually, you were finally able to look in the mirror without shame.

Sometimes you still had those thoughts of starving yourself, but you had Miguel to wash them away.

You were fine, just the way you are.

Always will be.

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Hope you enjoyed it! Like mentioned, I just used a personal issue of mine since I wasn't sure what disorder you wanted to me write about since everyone has something different.

But to those of you out there struggling, I know it hard. I still sometimes starve myself, but you're not alone! Please eat something! Start small! When in doubt, soup is my always go too!

Especially Pho. I will eat the shit out of Pho.

Anyway, stay safe and healthy out there!!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

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mandiemegatron · 2 months

Note

Okay but, Law angst based on "when I was your man" by Bruno mars

I can't handle the pain you enjoy putting me in😭😭😭😭😭😭

👀 you're not wrong though.

How about a taste of that? 😈

This is NOT part of an official part two for (you make me do) too much labour, but if you want to believe that it is, then go for it bc I am not sure if or when I'll get to writing it.

Enjoy, my lovely lil tangerines !!! I love you sm !!! 🤭💖💋

Written while listening to When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars.

It was like being punched in the gut.

With a knife.

That was on fire.

He hadn't even been looking for you this time, having been entirely focused on actually refueling the ship and making sure every crew member came back with what they were supposed to.

Shaking fingers held the clipboard that marked down the wares that came onto the ship. He'd first heard that ugly, unruly laughter from a certain redheaded, knowing that Eustass Kid must have also been refueling at the same port.

He lazily looked around and spotted him, not fifty feet away. He was talking to his masked crew mate, Law vaguely remembers his name is Killer, ironically enough, and goes back to his clipboard.

Law idly wondered if Eustass was following him.

But how?

He had no way of knowing which way the Heart Pirates were going next, unless-

Law froze in his spot when he heard another familiar laugh, and he couldn't fight the way his body immediately went into an anxious state, his wide eyes watching in utter shock as you came out from beside Kid's massive form.

His eye twitched as Kid leaned down and pulled you into a kiss, resentment and fury clinging to his entire body at the audacity you and Kid held.

In that instance, everything fell into place for Law. Why he was suddenly always seeing Kid's ugly ship show its face everytime Law docked somewhere, why he felt like Kid was chasing him or following him -

It was you.

This whole time... it had been you.

"Boss! Did you see-"

"I saw."

Shachi and Penguin flinched at the venom dripping from Law's mouth, watching with worried expressions as their Captian burned holes into the back of your head.

For the first time in months, since you'd ran off from the Tang, you slowly turned and froze with wide eyes as you took in your ex-captain. You'd recognize that stupid, spotted hat anywhere.

Your gaze stuck with his, almost as if something was trying to pull you together. You could feel the anger, the sadness and the rage that fell off Law like a bitter waterfall, covering the entirety of your senses in a thick sludge.

It'd been the first time in months that you'd seen him.

You hated the way your heart ached to go to him.

"... Oi."

You broke your gaze from Law to stare back up at Kid, a set frown etched into his lipsticked mouth. There was uncertainty in his eyes as he nearly snarled out,

"... You're mine now. He can't have you back."

You flashed your lover a warm, loving grin and clung to him, holding his slightly larger face in your hands as you replied,

"I'm yours. I'm not going anywhere."

Kid's eyes softened slightly before he glared darkly at Law, the other captain suddenly standing a little taller at the challenge. They glared each other down until Kid looked away as you tugged on his opened shirt.

"Come on, let get out of here," you murmured, desperate to get away from this uncomfortable and fucked up situation.

You jumped slightly when Killer placed a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder, the other coming in front of you to give you a small bouquet of pretty weeds. A slight grin came over your face as you looked up at your masked lover and friend, the man giving you one in return that you couldn't see, but you knew was there.

He led you away by taking one of your hands into his, bringing the back of it up to his mask in a faux kiss as a sign of adoration, just as Eustass Kid turned back to Law, a wicked grin on his face as he mouthed something Law can't understand.

He points at Law, gives him the middle finger, then points at the sky before turning away with a loud cackle, following after his best friend and love.

Law then stiffens, knowing exactly what Kid meant.

"You... fucked... up."

Law turns away as Kid's loud voice echos over him, his heart gripped in a tight, metal hand as he hears Kid ask you,

"Apparently, they're throwin' a party here tonight... we gonna dance our asses off or what?!"

His heart breaks as he hears you reply happily,

"Ooh, you gunna take me dancing?! Thank you, baby!"

Law roughly slaps the clipboard into one of the crewmans stomachs, ignoring the over-exaggerated "Oof!" that Shachi gives. Law begins to turn, walking back towards the ship when Shachi suddenly calls out,

" ... How many times did she ask you to take her out?"

Law freezes in his spot, his eyes wide and dark as he stares down at his best friend and crewman.

"... what did you say...?"

"How many times... did she ask you to take her out? Or to bring her something that reminded you of her?"

Law's face contorts into one of raw fury, mouth snapping open to roar at Shachi's insolence when suddenly Ikkaku speaks up,

"All she wanted was you, Captain. And you made it clear that you didn't want her."

Law's head audibly snaps to the side, his dark gaze looming over Ikkaku as she continues,

"Just be happy for her. She's alive and clearly happier with them. Stop acting like the victim."

The anger and bitterness in Law grows as he snaps out,

"She's a traitor. She doesn't deserve to be happy with anyone!"

Ikkaku shouts back,

"Why?! Because she didn't want to keep having her heart broken by the man she loved?! Get OVER yourself!"

Law steps back slightly at her words, his chest heaving as pain and hurt take over the anger.

"I..."

Ikkaku cuts him off with a sharp, raised hand.

"You are not the victim here. Stop acting like your actions don't have consequences just because you're a pirate Captain."

Law falls silent, his face half covered by the wide rim of his hat. He hated that Ikkaku had a point, but he wouldn't tell her that.

"... make sure everyone gets back to the ship."

Shachi and Ikkaku give a tight salute, small frowns on both their faces as they watch their Captain walk back into the Tang.

They share a look with each other before going back to their duties, Shachi's shaded eyes watching you, Kid, and Killer until you were gone from his vision.

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pianokantzart · 6 months

Text

All That Remains

One-shot based on @elitadream's Body Swap AU. It's set in the aftermath of Mario's eventual rescue, (it also comes with a few drawings because I was in a mood.) Please note that the Bowser I drew is, for the sake of consistency, based on elitadream's (fcking awesome) Bowser design, and is not my own take.

If you like this AU/concept, please check out the masterpost! There is soooo much good stuff on there.

________________________________

Inexperience and desperation fueled an inferno that turned the bright green fields on the outskirts of The Mushroom Kingdom as black as the heart of The Darklands. Kamek clung to his broom high above the mayhem, and through the smoke and roaring flames he caught glimpses of the two warring bodies, each utterly detached from their senses, unaware of either fatigue or pain as they grappled for dominance in a struggle far more explosive than anything he had witnessed before. Mario alone– equipped with Bowser’s body– seemed to have some sort of a goal beyond delivering as much damage as possible. As clumsy as he was with his giant claws and heavy form, he remained keenly aware of where Luigi and Princess Peach were, and always made sure he was positioned to shield them from the worst of the heat.

Though Luigi and Peach struggled to assist in whatever way they could, the raging inferno that encompassed the fight made even comprehending what was happening around them near impossible, and even Kamek, accustomed to the fire whirl and magma pits of home, felt overwhelmed. Yet, out of fear for his king, he ventured closer, weaving about the spires of flames upon his broomstick to get a better look.

Though Mario and Bowser alike were to blame for the surrounding destruction, he was surprised to find a majority of the fire was radiating from the body of the plumber. Bowser had wielded firebrand with reckless abandon, clearly unaware of such magic’s limitations, barely even noticing the redness and blisters forming upon his skin wherever patches of his gloves and sleeves had been burned away. Mario’s body was more resistant to heat than that of the average human, but it– unlike Bowser's original body– was not immune. Kamek’s concern grew into a subdued panic when, at length, the fire began to lose intensity. Bowser strained to refuel the inferno, staring with unfocused confusion at his all-too-human hands as he struggled to make sparks when he once constructed torrents of white hot flames. He didn’t know what was happening, but Kamek could tell that the abused body was finally failing him. As the heat died down, Luigi and Peach slowly made their approach, careful to avoid the patches of earth that boiled red-hot from the encounter. Seeing where the chips fell, Kamek knew what needed to be done. Thankfully, the spell that had switched Bowser and Mario’s bodies– though difficult to conduct– was childsplay to undo. With the wave of his wand and a whispered charm, both souls were returned to their original form. Luigi and Peach witnessed the flash of light, and the great change in both Mario’s and The Koopa King’s expression.

Immediately, Bowser felt it: the weight of being and the connection to his old flesh. Like waking from a heavy sleep he noted the tiredness in his arms and the ache in his chest, as well as the pain of the bruises and the burns he himself had inflicted in his scuffle with a borrowed body. His newfound sense of weakness triggered a rage. A low, familiar growl rumbled throughout his draconic form as he turned toward the magikoopa hovering nearby.

“Kamek!” he roared, “I did not order you to return me to my body!” Kamek’s broom came to a landing at Bowser’s side– now the true Bowser, through and through. Kamek had expected his lord to be displeased, and yet he couldn’t help flinching, clutching his wand to his chest at the severity of the voice. “I’m sorry sire, but I had no choice! Your old vessel, it… it could not carry on!” “What!?” Bowser blew a puff of smoke and looked to where Mario stood, although “stood” may have been too strong a term. The little plumber– himself, slowly growing aware of his own body– wobbled unsteadily in place. Outside of the injuries he’d undergone in the fight there were other markings; his cheeks sallow and his eyes sunken, his breath labored and his lips cracked and chapped. His knees began to buckle, and the princess and Luigi rushed together to catch him before he hit the ground. Bowser smirked, taking no small amount of satisfaction in the fear that flashed through Mario’s eyes as he steadily crumbled into the arms of his companions.

“See? Your efforts weren’t for naught.” Kamek continued cheerfully, “your hated enemy is defeated, worn thin through ‘his’ decimation of The Mushroom Kingdom’s defenses. We merely need to press forward with the invasion, and victory shall be yours!...”

Kamek was about to continue, when he was interrupted by a violent flash of blue light and the crack of thunder. Luigi had left his brother in the arms of the princess and leapt in front of them, electricity shooting from an outstretched hand, across the charred plane, into the body of the magician.

Kamek, blindsided, received the attack with full-force. He jittered and contorted, unable to emit so much as a shriek as electricity ricocheted through his elderly body, until at length he fell to the ground limp as a ragdoll.

All eyes shifted to Luigi.

Anyone who had fought with The Mario Brothers, whether as their ally or opponent, knew firebrand had horizontal range and thunderhand had vertical range. Both were capable of incredible destructive power in close quarters, and when Mario and Luigi worked as a team, few had the opportunity to get near enough to feel the full force of their magic. By all accounts, Kamek should have been out of range. Even Luigi appeared utterly bewildered by what he just accomplished, breathing heavily as he looked at his own hands, shivering from adrenaline and sparking uncontrollably.

Bowser, equally confused, bent down at Kamek’s side, and examined him in a moment of what appeared to be genuine concern. With the enemy distracted, Luigi took a step back toward Princess Peach to deliver the harried bullet points of his plan. “You need to get him to The Mushroom Kingdom before the invasion. Get Mario help. Get everyone ready. I’ll keep him busy.” “Luigi!” The princess’ voice was pleading as she gathered Mario into her arms. Truthfully, she knew Luigi’s idea wasn't a bad one. Bowser’s body, despite being in better condition than Mario’s, had not emerged from the battle unscathed. Given the current circumstances, Luigi stood a chance of holding his own, and The Mushroom Kingdom desperately needed time to ready its defenses before Koopa Troops showed up in droves to carry out Bowser’s planned attack. Nonetheless, Peach detested the thought of abandoning him. He had suffered too much on his own already. Furthermore, he and Mario had just been reunited, and she preferred any other possible avenue over splitting them apart again.

Luigi glanced over his shoulder, and forced a reassuring smile that didn't quite fit his words: “I’m sorry! I was so scared I- I didn’t do anything right! I should’ve done more… protected everyone sooner." His voice cracked, those old familiar tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "Please, let me do things right this time.”

Mario, through his fight to maintain consciousness, heard every word, and hated them with every fiber of his being. He attempted to speak, to reach out for his brother, to do anything to console him… but his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth and his arms hung limply at his sides. All he could manage was a barely-audible murmur. Luigi had no right to feel this way. He wasn’t the one who had fallen for Bowser’s trap, who had allowed himself to be chained up in the underbelly of the world, who had given over to despair. Luigi, through no fault of his own, had been suddenly abandoned to the whims of a monster, and yet he had escaped and traveled all the way to The Darklands to save him. How could he feel guilt for this? How could he feel anything but proud of himself?

“Luigi…” Peach whispered, but before she could say anything more, there came a thudding of heavy steps. A giant clawed hand cast a shadow over them as Bowser, who realized by now that Kamek wouldn’t be roused any time soon, rushed forward to finish the fight. Luigi leapt over the attack on instinct while The Princess rolled out of the way, holding Mario close to her chest as Bowser’s heavy hand shattered the earth inches from her back. The King of The Koopas turned to Peach, poised to bring down another blow, when Luigi landed upon the back of his neck. One hand clung to his horn, while the other slammed down against the thick, scaly skin of his neck to deliver another pulse of electricity. This time, Bowser felt it, and the sound of his pained roar fueled Luigi’s determination. “Go your highness!” He shouted, struggling to maintain his grip as Bowser fought to shake him off, “I won’t be far behind!” Princess Peach hurried to her feet, hesitating for only a moment longer as she tightened her hold on Mario's body. She felt him grow limp, heard his labored breath slow, and felt the decision had all but been made for her. With a heavy heart she turned and ran toward The Mushroom Kingdom, pouring whatever magic she left into Mario's unconscious form. The burns could be fixed easily, but the effects of starvation, dehydration, and sleep deprivation were not so easily undone. Slow damage required slow remedies, and the worst of his condition had been over a week in the making.

She didn’t dare look back, keeping her eyes focused on the twinkle of the castle’s familiar stained glass window in the distance, shining like a beacon above clouds of ash and smoke as the world behind her echoed with the sound of monstrous roars and crackling thunder.

#my art #my writing #Body Swap AU #injury tw #Super Mario Brothers #Luigi #Princess Peach #given Bowser isn't used to firebrand and Mario isn't used to fire breath #I imagine both of them fighting with all their might while disconnected from their bodies would be insanely explosive #Also... I've only written a little bit of what I imagine Bowser put Luigi through while in Mario's body #so I think the green guy deserves a bit of retribution

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geekywritings · 1 year

Text

The Dark Side

Every Jedi faces the Dark Side. And it’s so easy to fall... But you won’t ever let Cal lose the fight against the darkness. Not as long as you’re around.

Fluff. Pure Cal x reader fluff with a very supportive and loving reader :D

____________________

Every Jedi faces the Dark Side. It was a lesson instilled in Cal and you since childhood. The challenge was not to give in. To always have control of your emotions. Even better, not to feel certain things at all.

Looking back, those rules were impossible to follow. Holding in love, hate, jealousy, fear, and affection was more destructive than the Dark Side could ever be. However, accepting this fact didn’t protect you from the temptations still facing you.

War made it only harder, requiring you to make difficult decisions on a daily basis.

Jedi didn’t seek aggression, but you had learned that it was either kill or be killed these days. And both you and Cal had taken your fair share of lives already, each one bringing you closer to the edge of an endless abyss.

You were both staring into it, fighting its pull and hoping you could retain the best possible version of yourselves.

But it was getting harder every day. You saw the fatigue in Cal’s eyes, felt the way he clutched you tighter at night, as if your presence alone could save him from the darkness. The constant fighting was taking its toll on him. Badly.

At times, he was close to losing control on the battlefield, allowing his rage rather than his instinct to lead his blade. He cut down his foes with more ferocity, showing mercy only when it was absolutely deserved. It started to worry you, so you decided to approach him about it.

You had landed on a tiny moon in the Outer-Rim to refuel your ship, picking the inconspicuous location to stay hidden. The people here cared little about the galactic conflicts all around them and would not sell you out. As long as you paid good credits, you could relax.

Theoretically. Not really.

Cal’s shoulders were tense as he stood outside the Mantis, staring at the distant setting sun at the horizon. Nothing but vast empty plains stretched before your eyes, making you wonder what was captivating him so.

“Cal? You ok?”, you asked and he nodded, eyes still on the sunset. You joined him, hand automatically slipping into his, with him instantly returning the gesture by intertwining his fingers with yours.

“And now the truth. Are you ok?”, you asked again, sending a small smile his way. Now his gaze did move toward you and his lip twitched upward.

“Why did I have to fall for a woman who can read my mind?”, he asked, tone jokingly exasperated. But seriousness quickly returned to his features, as he sighed. “I am just exhausted. No need to worry.”

“I will always worry about you.”, you were quick to retort and silently invited him to sit with you for a more comfortable conversation. “It’s about our last mission, isn’t it?”

The two of you had infiltrated an imperial base to retrieve some vital information regarding new weapons. You thought they were merely in their planning stage, but once inside, you shockingly came to discover they were already in mass production. Improved blasters with additional fire power, long range detonators and other tech that would make life for the rebellion even harder.

Discoveries like this always made you wonder if you even stood any chance to defeat the Empire. If all you did was merely scratching the surface and giving the Inquisitors something to do. It must have been the same for Cal.

“We killed civilians back there…”, he whispered and you shuddered at the memory. It hadn’t been intentional. You had wanted to sabotage the factory, but had come face to face with several imperial guards. The fight had spiralled out of control, resulting in an explosion. One thing had led to another and you had barely managed to escape the building before it collapsed. A lot of Stormtroopers and Imperial officers had died back there… but so had many factory workers. Honest people, who were just trying to get by under Imperial rule. It wasn’t their fault weapon factories were the only work available.

“It was an accident…”, you started slowly, as if your nightmares and conscience weren’t plagued by the event.

“I know… but still… I feel so much guilt… so much hate.”, Cal spoke through gritted teeth. The Empire was forcing your hands more and more, but stopping wasn’t an option either.

“Cal…”, his name fell from your lips in a soft whisper. “I know it’s hard. I really do… but you can’t let this turn you into a monster. Into them.”, you began, louder this time, underlining your words by resting a hand on his shoulder. It didn’t seem like enough, however. So you moved to sit in front of him, placing both of your hands on his cheeks and making him look at you.

“I am giving you an order, Cal.”, you spoke firmly. “Every time you feel the hatred consume you, you come to me. Every time you feel guilt swallow you, you come to me. I will always be there to keep you from falling. The Dark Side won’t get you as long as I am here.”

Relief washed through him and you could clearly see it in his eyes. Moments later his arms were around your waist, pulling you toward him. The "thank you" he mumbled into your neck almost didn’t reach your ears, but the gesture showed clearly enough what he felt. Your own arms wrapped around him, holding him as close as possible.

“We will get through this together.”, you kept whispering sweet assurances, while you stroked his back. “We might not always make the right decisions, but we will never become like them…” You forced as much confidence as possible into those words because you needed to hear them as much as he did. “We just have to stick together. I’ll be your light and you’ll be mine.”

Cal’s face emerged from your neck and his lips sought yours in a sweet, yet desperate kiss. You were alone, just allowing passion to drown whatever fears and worries you had. Just for a while, you could forget everything: The war, the loss, the very existence of the Dark Side. And for now, these moments had to be enough.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x yn #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #jedi survivor

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z-mizcellaneous-z · 1 year

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for all my fellow sexy college bitches about to enter finals week:

reblog to get these valuables to the largest number of people in need!

#poll #polls #tumblr polls #finals #exams #school #college #uni #university #finals week #college life #college student #mizismiz

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miscfandomwrites · 9 months

Text

Mama: Chapter Two

A/N: Another Repost, looks like I'll be able to upload once a day (if I get my break)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mom! Avenger! Reader

Warnings: Angst

Words: 676

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

After a while of humming and the gentle movement of the plane, Lillith drifted off into slumberland again. I had no idea how she could do it-it took me forever to fall asleep. And even then, it was even harder to properly fall asleep and not get jerked away by a laundry machine or any small noise my old apartment had made.

I just held her and rested my head against the wall, resting. Today was a bit tiring. I never get good sleep anymore, not with her to worry about, and my nightmares and the hypervigilance that had never turned off once I joined my first firefight in the US Marines when I was twenty.

So young still, yet so old.

I closed my eyes only to be jerked awake again when I saw images of her on the floor again. It wasn’t even two minutes since I closed my eyes, yet in that time my breath rate had picked up. Lillith was stirring on my chest, and I gently slid her off and onto the floor next to me, using my backpack as a pillow for her. I readjusted my leather jacket and brought my knees to my chest.

I leaned my chin against them, trying not to fall asleep. I studied the people around me until my eyes were blurry. I was so tired. I only slept a few hours last night, less the night before. I groaned and put my head in my arms, resting them on my knees. I tried to think of anything else besides her lying on the floor, covered in blood.

I was expecting tears to fall, as they usually did along with sobs. I hated crying in front of people-Hydra had told me over and over and over and over again that emotions are a weakness.

Instead of the usual sadness and sobs that hurt my diaphragm, I was met with anger. Anger. That’s the main emotion I felt when I walked into camp that day. Anger. The bodies of my team-my family- lay strewn around the room like some fucking halloween decor in the middle of April. It wasn’ until I reached our shared quarters did I realize that they got to you.

“We need to stop to refuel at the next base. We’ll be landing in five minutes, and wheels will be up in ten after that.” spoke one of the pilots.

I brought my head out of my arms and looked to Lilith, who was sleeping so peacefully.

How could I, a monster of rage, bring this life into the world? I am anger, so much anger…

I looked to Clint, who was watching me with a worried expression.

I felt the quinjet start to descend, and I got up off the floor.

“Can you watch her please?” I asked him. He nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but I walked to the back of the plane just as it landed. The bay doors opened and I walked off, trying to find the nearest restroom.

After getting directions from one of the agents refueling the jet, I walked towards it. I noticed a certain red-head following me. I quickened my pace and kept going.

As soon as I got in the bathroom, I closed the door and locked it. I went to the sink, splashing cold water on my face. I looked up at myself, the water dripping off my face and before I knew it, my fist was through the mirror.

I gasped, and took my hand away, watching some shards fall into the sink. I shook my head, and put my face in my hands and repeated over, and over, and over, and over

“She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.”

I pulled my hands away and took several deep breaths, reminding myself that my daughter needed me. She needed a mother.

I opened the door and walked back to the quinjet, oblivious to the fact that Natasha had heard the entirety of what had happened, and had seen the aftermath.

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha x reader #mama #miscfandomwrites #marvel #marvel x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x mom! reader #avengers x reader

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 22 days

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All Along the Watchtower (Chapter 15)

[Can also be read on AO3]

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 2.8 K

Warnings: Minors DNI - suggestive dialogue, mild angst, flirting, ship's first real kiss, smoking

Summary: The mission is over, and Price and Rory have time alone together at camp

A/N: Rory Sinclair is a dual citizen (both Canada and the UK) who's been living in the UK since she was 14. She is 28 at the time of this fic, Price is 32. This series is set in 2017 before the events of the first MW game. Rory's thoughts are bold and italicized, other italics are used for emphasis

*This is the chapter where the ship finally really and truly kicks off. It does have a fade to black ending as the next chapter is entirely smut and not really necessary for story purposes so if you want to skip the next chapter it's an option*

November 2, 2017 21:18 - Al-Hasakah, Syria

With the outpost removed and the intel in Laswell’s hands, a makeshift campsite had been set up on the outskirts overlooking the desert. A small fire burning for warmth while the stars shone above in the midnight blue sky – tranquil, despite there being a warzone still raging miles away. Sitting in the sand, Rory ate her ration pack of lamb stew as she watched Price pace back and forth several feet away, confirming plans on his phone for the next steps now that the mission was coming to a close, zoning out to the sway of his hips as he walked.

Slipping his phone into the pocket of his tac pants, he moved back to sit near the fire and start in on his own dinner. Her eyes fell away from him and instead turned to the flames that flickered in front of her as he settled in the sand beside her.

“Nik'll be here in the mornin’, has to refuel and tune up before he can head out.”

She hummed, poking her spork around in the gray plastic pouch of her ORP. “I'm sure that wasn't a suggestion from the good Captain at all, was it?” Her eyes flicked up to look at him, a teasing little smirk pulling up the corner of her mouth, the flames of the fire of their camp illuminating the amber flecks in her eyes.

“You think it's my intent to keep you all to myself, Sergeant? Just what are you trying to imply?” The predatory edge to his eyes and tone were near explicit.

“Do you think I'm daft, John?”

He shook his head and laughed, tearing open the heated packet of steak and vegetables. “Oh no, quite the opposite. I think you're too smart for your own good. I think if you had enough time, you could read me like a book.”

He wasn’t far off in his estimate, with the training she had as an interrogator she likely could. However, she would also be having to combat a hardened veteran with sixteen years of experience under his belt and who was trained to resist interrogation methods of all kinds. He had already proven to have a look in his eyes that was impenetrable at most times. For all she knew, it would be a stalemate.

“Given enough practice I probably could.”

“No probably about it, sweetheart. I also get the feeling that if it came down to it you could beat me in any argument – as long as I don't pull rank.” He looked up from the contents of his packet and she was once again met by that stare she had caught in her scope - that hungry, feral one.

“That's a given. I'm a barrister's daughter, after all. If I hadn't gone the military route my father was sure I'd make a good one and follow in his footsteps.”

“Why didn't you?”

She scoffed. “Life.”

“Meaning?”

There was a side to John that she had been given just a taste of, the one who used whatever tools he could get his hands on to reach his objective, and in this case, the little alarm bell in the back of her head went off. How much of that was her own trust issues she couldn’t be sure, but giving him too much knowledge about her did put her a little on edge even if he only intended to keep her safe – everything was a weapon to Captain Price.

“What? You want my life story?” Her eyes narrowed, challenging him just enough. “Is this our first date?” she asked, lifting the MRE packet. “Really splurged on dinner.”

He chuckled at her sarcastic comment and lit a cigar. “Go on,” he said softly, his voice a hoarse murmur on the wind.

“You really want to know?”

“I do.”

She rolled her eyes and put the MRE packet down grabbing her pack of cigarettes and lighting one, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke into the night with a long stream of breath. “It's rather convoluted, but – in short form – after my mother’s death, I had to leave Canada, leave the life I'd known behind and move to England to live with my father. I was fourteen – angry, grieving – and I was plunked in the house of a man who I only really knew through conversations over the phone and the few summer trips I had across the pond. He wasn't exactly ready for the challenge of raising a hormonal teenage girl… we were both thrown in the deep end of the pool together, quite frankly.” She shook her head at the insanity of the situation she had lived through. “Poor sod getting lumped with me.” She laughed and took another drag of her cigarette, leaving a pregnant pause in her story. “Needless to say, I acted out, rebelled. Skipped school, let my grades fail – I barely graduated. Didn't leave me with many options, so I chose the military.”

“Didn’t do too bad f’ yourself though, did ya?”

“I suppose, other than hefty amounts of trauma,” she snickered at her own comment.

“Can’t be all bad.”

“No, no I suppose not. Joining the army did have its perks, this is true.”

“Got to meet me twice because of it.”

A loud burst of laughter came out of her. “Ah, yes, the highlight of my ten-year career. Not receiving the King’s Medal for Bravery as a corporal – spending time with John Price.”

He smiled around the cigar in his mouth, the lines around his eyes creasing softly. “You were awarded a medal as a corporal ?”

“Yeah…”

His brows lifted, giving a little nod, clearly impressed by her history. “Not too many people receive one of those.”

“No, not too many at all,” she said with a quiet sort of pride.

Humming appreciatively, smoke blew from his nostrils. “You still owe me that number of confirmed kills, darlin’.”

“I did promise you that, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Thirty three high profile targets. Other soldiers and snipers?” She paused to hum and haw over the numbers. “Lost count around the mid seventies, and that was two years ago.”

“ Jesus ,” he breathed, giving a low groan. “Fucking hell, Rory.” Taking another drag of his cigar as if it were post coitus.

She giggled at his reaction, the obvious tone of arousal at her competency not lost on her. “Careful, John. Don't want to be popping a stiffy.”

His piercing gaze flicked up to settle on her and her teasing grin, a wolfish curl to the side of his mouth slowly growing. “Can't have that, can we? Wouldn't be proper of an officer.”

“Certainly not. Especially not while we're out here, alone , in the dark, with nothing but a pup tent to share.”

Brow lifted, a cocky self-assured smirk grew on his face. “Who knows what might happen.”

Rory licked her lips and tutted her tongue, still pretending as though she wasn't interested, or rather, playing hard to get. She had to admit she had been enjoying this chase of theirs and Price had certainly been persistent as had been promised – ever the hunter, and her the beast waiting for that right moment to strike. “How ever will we fill the time?”

“I can think of a few things,” he purred.

“I bet you can.”

“Mission’s nearly over, darlin’. Don’t need to worry about being a distraction for me anymore, yeah?”

Leaning towards him, she lowered her voice until it was smooth and sultry. “And you think I’m just going to give in like that?”

“Still want me to try and persuade you, eh?”

“I’m still trying to figure out just what it is about me you actually want?” Her warm hazel eyes lifted to take in those unreadable gray-blue ones that looked back at her. Pushing the challenge just a little bit further, prodding him towards showing her just a little of his own vulnerability.

“I want you for all sorts of reasons.” He gave nothing away.

Her brow cocked, wanting more detail. “Is that so?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever been so interested in another woman before.” His voice grew huskier the longer the discussion went on, body leaning closer to her.

“Is that right?”

“It is.”

“And what makes me so different?”

“ Everything ,” he said in a deep growl. “You’re a bloody challenge, first and foremost – and you were certainly right about me liking that.”

She paused, letting the closeness between them settle before pushing further, deeper into dangerous territory. Her eyes narrowed, lingering on his features, reading him. “ If I were to let you have me as your girl, would I be just another accolade to your name, John?”

Smirking, he pulled back slightly, understanding where the game was heading between them. “There’s no denyin’ the fact that any man would consider havin’ you as their girl an honor. However , if you’re askin’ if I’d see you as just another notch in the belt, then you’ve got me all wrong, darlin’.”

“So you see me as someone worth going for the long haul with?”

“You bet your arse.”

Chuckling quietly at his expected response, she kept digging. “And you really do just want to take care of me?”

“Always.” His face became serious. All playful, flirtatious intent wiped clean from it. On this he was absolute. The final decision was made up in his mind and he would not be dissuaded. That point was no game for him.

Her smile faded as reality hit once more. Nothing could be that simple, not for them, not with the rules and regulations of the military. “I wish it was that easy.”

“It doesn't have to be as bloody hard as you’re makin’ it.”

“It does.” She scoffed, “We can’t just bury our heads in the sand over this, pretend that we aren’t breaking rules here – because we are. You have so much more to lose over this than I do.” Sighing, her voice was barely an audible whisper above the night wind. “I don’t want to be something you live to regret.”

His brow furrowed, mouth flinching as he clenched his jaw. “Never gonna happen, love. Never . Fell f’you like a goddamn idiot.”

Rory giggled, covering her mouth as jovial bursts of laughter coming in fits and starts carried across the desert at night.

“It’s not funny,” he chuckled, eyes crinkling at her reaction to his confession.

Dragging her hand down her face, she tried to hide the embarrassment they both seemed to be feeling and gazed at him. “I’m sorry,” saying it as genuinely as she could between the little bubbles of laughter that still crept up out of her.

“You’re a filthy liar.” Shaking his head, his smirk was still plastered to his face.

Looking at one another, the firelight flickered across from them, warming their skin as much as the laughter and their close proximity was. Silence fell. Their eyes locked. Heart racing in her chest, Rory’s lips seemed to part instinctively as her breath caught in her throat, not realizing she was even holding it.

John’s gaze roamed down to her mouth, freezing there as she watched his tongue drag across his lips. Throat bobbing with a heavy swallow, his pupils dilated making his steely eyes darker than the night sky above. Biting the inside of his lower lip, he stared at her hungrily. It was clear he was debating his next move. Jaw tensing, the tendons flexing, his hand lifted to scratch at the underside of it as his brow furrowed.

Nocturnal animals squawked, screamed and chattered out in the darkness that surrounded them. They were completely alone out here. No witnesses, no mission. Just them .

Moving closer, he leaned a little further towards her, the distance between them disappearing quickly until she was moments away from being wrapped around him. The tips of their noses brushed against the other’s, his breath fanning on her lips, the cigar smoke heavy on her nostrils. The heady, bitter scent of tobacco made her bite her lip. Her eyes firmly locked on his, she tried to perceive what his next move was before he did.

Brushing the hair back that the wind blew into her face, his fingers traveled through her waves as his hand came to rest on the curve of her jaw, thumb stroking at her cheekbone thoughtfully. No words needed to be spoken, enough already had. Just like in a fight, they seemed to know what the next move needed to be before it was even said. Synchronicity .

Mouth meeting hers, his grip firm, the kiss was passionate and deep. Weeks’ worth of need boiled down into one moment. All that arguing, the bickering, the back and forth, it all had to have been for something and he seemed to be making damn sure that it did as his lips claimed hers. Pulling her in tighter towards him, his hand shifted to lock up into a fistful of her hair at the back of her head. His other arm wrapped around her back, pulling her right up against him as his fingers found themselves sliding underneath the hem of her shirt, caressing the small of her back. Rough, calloused skin on his warm palm rubbed against her, fighting off the chill in the breeze as the temperature decreased the deeper the night became.

Breaking the kiss for air, John pressed his forehead to hers, his breath short and heavy. “I want this, Ror. Want you. Us ,” his voice thick with a deep need. “This feels right. You know it does.”

“John –” she said his name breathlessly.

“No, sweetheart. No more reasons not to, yeah?”

She still wasn’t entirely convinced. In the moment it was easy to forget the real world, to stop herself from seeing sense, but her mind continued to race through every scenario, every possible fantasy and nightmare that could come out of this decision.

“John…” She brought her hand to his temple stroking her fingers through his hair ruffled by the wind with his boonie hat removed. “I’m really not the easiest person to love, I wasn’t lying about that. Had to learn not to let people in. My job’s been about lying and secrets for years.”

And from the fear of being hurt, of being left behind once more.

“Yeah, so’s mine. You know that.” His hand came to rest under her chin, keeping her eyes on his. “Don’t you think that’s what makes us right for each other, my girl? No lies, no bullshit, no pretendin’ to be somethin’ we aren’t. Good, bad, or ugly. Just me and you.”

“You could have a woman who could give you a normal life,” she said quietly.

“Normal’s boring, love.”

“You’re going to have a retort for everything I say, aren’t you?” Her brow lifted as her mouth curled into a half grin.

“Maybe. Yeah.” His smirk fading to become serious once more. “But I mean it, I wouldn’t know how to handle some bloody white picket fence life. And even then I’d be havin’ to lie to whoever she was f’ the rest of my life ‘bout the things I’ve done. Don’t have to do that with you. Might be nice to get to be honest f’ once.”

Rory shook her head and huffed out a laugh. “Just as smooth as you were five years ago,” she teased.

“I can be charmin’ when I choose to be.”

She hummed, “That’s becoming very apparent.”

“You’re too perfect to let slip through my fingers, Rory,” he purred.

“I’m anything but perfect,” she whispered softly.

His thumb drifted across her lower lip, pulling at her pout and staring straight into her eyes. “You, my darlin’ girl, are exactly what I need.”

There was no denying the magnetic pull that had always been there between them, and with their mouths so close together it was only getting stronger. She could tell herself to pull away, to repel him, to push him back and carry on, focusing on her career as she always had, leaving her to a lonely world she had come to know so well. Saving herself the pain of loss and distance by never allowing anything good to come from letting anyone in. She found herself unable to do that anymore – not with him. He had been nothing but honest when he said being with him just felt right.

She wondered if her mother and father ever felt this way, living a life of apparent joy before they too parted and became another statistic.

Shaking her head clear of those thoughts, she closed her eyes and leaned in to kiss him once more, her lips pressed to his, soft and slow. Tongue sweeping against her pout, he prodded at the part of her lips until she rewarded him with access to her mouth. Climbing into his lap, she grabbed at the shoulder straps of his tac vest, deepening the kiss as her legs came to straddle his muscular thighs. Wrapping her body around his broad expanse, she was protected by him, held in his arms – the way it had always been.

Exactly the way she wanted him.

#call of duty #fan fiction #john price #john price x oc #oc: rory sinclair #fic: all along the watchtower #chapter 15

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mothgodofchaos · 6 months

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Frame

I was inspired to write a good ending version to my fic Burn, and I think I've done it.

Actor x GN!Reader, ft. Dark & Wilford, TW: none Words: 730

A century of loneliness can stir something inside your gut when left alone for long enough. Loneliness, regret, rage, a burning desire to change your situation. But you can’t change the past. The deals have been made and the stage was set, starring in the directorial debut of the devil. It wasn’t fair. It still isn’t.

Mark paces on the floor of the manor, trapped inside with the only breath of fresh air being the puppeteering of the entity within the walls. It speaks into his ears, feeding him lies, mourning, rage, trying to refuel that fire that was burning when he fell into their lap, a perfect puppet for it to enact its misery. But now he’s just a lump of coal, a shell of what he once was, the walls that he now wanders aimlessly a painful reminder of.

He perks up at a knock at the door, waiting to hear the voice of a solicitor, girl scout, or census taker. Waiting for the voice, so he can justify staying hidden in the dark like the monster he’s become should.

“Mark–?”

Tears came to his eyes as he heard your voice, nearly sprinting to the door to open it, praying that it wasn’t another trick. He tears the door open, looking at you in disbelief. He studies your face, the cracks running deep. A hesitant hand is extended to hold your cheek, but pulls back right before his hand crosses the threshold of the doorway. “Darling…”

You smile up at him, tears in your own eyes as you let out a breath of a laugh. “You’re alive…”

“Yes, I am. I’m here. Come out, Mark. Please. For me.”

“Darling- I– I can’t.”

The fear returns to his eyes as he goes to close the door. But he meets yours again, and keeps his hand on the edge of the door, just looking at you with all of the emotions that have festered over all these years. You know he wants to.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. For everything. I’m doing what I should’ve done that night, staying alone in these walls where I can’t hurt anyone. What I’ve done, it’s unforgivable. I don’t deserve to come out–”

You cut him off, which surprises him.

“Did you think I came alone? How do you think I got out, Mark?” Wilford and Dark step around the corner, standing on either side of you, a hand on each of your shoulders. “We know, Mark. We know it wasn’t your fault.” “Damien-” Mark’s hand almost reaches the doorway again, before retreating back. He’s nearly cowering behind the door at this point. You know his acting skills, but this is far from acting.

“I killed you all that night, you deserve to be angry! To want revenge! I’m a horrible monster who hurt his only friends and love of his life!”

“Oh nonsense, we had- oh dear how long has it been-”

“-a hundred years, Wil-” “-a hundred years to deal with all of those, old sport! We’re here to help you.” The whispers start again, but you can hear them too. The heart of the house nearly beats with the waves of darkness that disappear onto the stoop. Dark makes a face, dismissing the dark smoke that tries to latch onto his foot with a wave of his hand. You all look back up and see Mark surrounded in the smoke, silently afraid. “Mark, beloved, take my hand. We will get you out.” You reach out your hand to him, hanging just within reach.

“No- I can’t- it won’t work-”

“Listen to me, not the house. Take my hand, Mark.”

He hesitates once more before latching onto your hand, and you tug him through the threshold, a film of smoke shattering like glass as he breaks through it. He looks around for a moment, then back at the house. He laughs, almost hysterically, before scooping you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

“You came back for me. I’m so sorry, I love you…”

Dark and Wilford surround the two of you, happy to have their friend back. They guide you back to Dark’s car, leaving the dreadful house behind as Mark speaks with an energy he hasn’t known for a century. The backseat as he holds you close is filled with a love he thought he’d never know again.

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refractiveame · 9 months

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Memoriam of Calamity

"A stunning jeweled statue, found in the depths of a smoldering cavern. The two gems dance in intertwined chaos, a breathtaking site that refuels my desire to finish this journey's quota and return to my family." - Captain Olimar... Probably.

This piece was inspired and based around Pikmin 2's treasures Essence of Rage and Essence of Despair; imagining how these treasures may have been found in jewelery before their new purpose as a galactic freight company's debt recovery asset.

But to get to the fun part, this piece is a 20" total length necklace in sterling silver with a 14k gold button on the flower, featuring a lab created rose cut ruby and emerald. I hand made the leaves and the flower and ordered the chain and the mounting for the stones.

Figuring out how to create a natural looking leaf that still resembled the classic pikmin leaf was far more challenging than i had anticipated going into this project. After some testing with different initial shapes and thicknesses i found something i was happy with. Essentially i cut a flat piece of silver that fit my dimensions and matched a drawing i had assumed to turn out well and then used a dapping set to do the shaping. (A dapping set being a small steel block with many spherical holes of many different sizes and a corresponding set of steel punches that have spherical ends to match the holes of the block)

After curving the piece into one curve i would take round nose pliers and bend the end up to give it a sensible shape and one that complements it being used as the connection between chain and center of the pendant. For the very tip of the leaf i took the same pliers and carefully bent the other way to loop the end for a oring to fit through for the chain, then soldered that loop i created shut to ensure sturdiness of the pendant.

In retrospect i wish i had tried to add the detailing you see in the finished piece before rounding to see if a more even and clean carving could have been achieved.

I moved on to the flower which i did some quick maths to determine the size and where to cut the slits to split it into petals. It largely followed the same process as the leaf of cut to shape, cut the reliefs for the petals, and round with the dapping set. But after rounding i took a small round ball bur to the center to allow me to solder a small gold ball to it to better resemble the flower in game.

Here i wish i had better understood how exactly to shape the petals the way i wished as i was not consciously expecting the petals to touch again after being rounded. But i still am stumped as to what the best way to shape a piece like this is given the size and precision i was wanting with the curves on the sides of the petals.

After carefully attaching the pieces together with a few third hands and some patience i began the detailing process which was rather tedious but simple. I applied sharpie to the leaves and scratched in a pattern i felt fit the shape to give the impression of a leaf's vascular system before following that up with a kraus bur, small ball bur, and rubber wheels.

For the flower i added some slight folding of the petals by using a kraus bur to indent it as the petal sprawled from its center, then went back over it with a heavy rubber wheel to smooth out the sharp ruts of removed metal, giving it a wavy, fold like effect that doesn't capture well on camera.

And i added a brush finished to the leaves but left the "veins" high polished to give it an appealing contrast and prevent it from easily looking bad due to greasy/dirty fingers touching the polished silver.

Attached the chain with some simple orings and moved on.

Thusly i arrived at the most stressful and final part of the journey, Bezel setting these roze cuts. For someone who knew what they were doing this would be a breeze but as someone who had never set a stone bezel style nor done so on a pendant that would be hard to grasp firmly this was quite a challenge for me. After getting advice from my elder coworkers on the process i got to work using an inverted conical bur to shape the inside of the mountings to set the stone, periodically checking if the stone would snap in so as to prevent making the cuts too deep. I still fucked that up and made the emerald's seat too big and it took a very mighty effort to get it snugly set in there.

In the process of setting these stones i greatly marred the edges of the bezel, more so than one would expect, and had to spend multiple hours tediously fixing the dents and scraps with a rubber wheel under the microscope, making sure to be hyper aware of my positioning so as not to scratch the stone with the abrasive wheel.

After much trials I finally managed to get the stones tight and good looking without a gross amount of damage to them and took to a final polishing pass. Showed it off to my coworkers and then promptly bagged it up to give to it's recipient this weekend.

Took approx 15 hours give or take 1, most of which was fixing mistakes and decided on leaf shapes.

#jewelry #handmade #pikmin

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conkreetmonkey · 4 months

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I've been thinking about how odd it is that despite their reputation for being the easiest type of houseplant to keep, I actually have worse luck with cacti than any other kind of plant, and I think I've finally figured out why: cacti don't let you know when they're not doing well.

Think of a plant with leaves. When you water it too little or too much, give it too little sunlight, whatever the problem is, it will usually visually show that it's unhealthy. Leaves will wilt, stems will droop, discolouration will delelop, and it will be obvious that you are doing something wrong. While it's obviously not intentional communication and just visual symptoms of a plant being unhealthy, in a purely analogous sense, leafy houseplants could be considered more "honest" than a cactus. When they're not doing well, they "tell" you, and you have time to adjust their situation before they die.

The cactus, however, does not communicate when it is not doing well. When you take care of a cactus in a way it doesn't like, it gives no outward visual indicator of this. It simply up and rots one day, like a switch was flipped, and you never even know what exactly you did to kill it.

I recall reading a book once in which a man goes on a pilgrimage through egypt. He spends a good deal of the trip on the back of a camel, but his mentor advises him to sell it and get a horse instead, his reasoning being that horses let you know when you're pushing them too hard and you can guage what they're capable of based on what they communicate to you, whereas camels will always stoically push through any amount of pain until they literally collapse of exhaustion and die underneath you. While the camel may seem "stronger" in this regard, the horse is far more practical because it communicates its feelings. When it is tired, it tells its owner through body language and horse noises and whatnot. The camel's complete lack of complaint is the reason the hero of the story trades it in for a horse; this "strength" is actually its biggest weakness.

And while I've been thinking of these things, of cacti and camels, I think it could apply to people to. I've heard and live by the Tumblr saying "people don't go from 0-100 out of nowhere, and if it seems that way they were actually at 99." I don't remember who said it, but it holds true. We all know a person who hold their emotions in until one day they explode with rage or tears, and we all know how this makes us feel, like we're walking on eggshells around them because we can't tell if they're at 1% or 99%. Talking to this kind of person is like driving a car with no fuel guage. It's stressful, because theoretically any moment could be the one the car suddenly grinds to a halt. You never know if it needs gas, or how much, because the car always insists no gas is needed, despite both of you knowing this isn't true. It doesn't want to bother you by asking for a refuel or telling you how far it thinks it can drive. It always insists it's fine, despite all cars needing a fuel source simply because that's how cars work.

So I urge you, don't be a cactus to your family and friends. Be a leafy plant. Allow yourself to wilt. Be emotionally honest, so that we can know when you need help. Everyone would vastly prefer that to you collapsing under the weight one day, never having asked for help, hoping against hope that this time, through sheer force of will, you would cease to have limits. Plants need water, pack animals need rest, cars need gas, and you, my friend, need some level of emotional support in your life, as all people do. Don't be afraid to act like it, it's far more practical in the long run.

#houseplants #plants #gardening #horticulture #horses #camels #camel #horse #animals #farm animals #plantkeeping #plant #cacti #cactus #emotions

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crazygriffinlord · 2 months

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HELP! I ACCIDENTALLY AMELIORATED CARS 2! Part 7! FINAL PART (NOT FOR KIDS! NSFW!)

[Inside the room, Finn is engrossed in typing on the computer, while Topsy reads a newspaper article about Sir Axlerod. Holly enters, carrying a tabloid with a sensational headline about Sir Axlerod's theory.]

Topsy: (reading) "Turbo The Raging *terrible slur I won't say*, Crashed Tow Truck." Can you believe this, Finn?

[Finn glances up from the computer, his expression serious as he responds.]

Finn McMissile: It's quite a headline. But we can't let sensationalism distract us from the truth.

[Holly approaches, a somber expression on her face as she sets down a form made from Sally's ideas.]

Holly Shiftwell: Look at this, Finn. It's Sally's work. Putting her ideas into a computer led to the creation of the DEI races. The first one was called the Carrera Race.

[Finn nods in understanding, his eyes scanning the document as he responds.]

Finn McMissile: Remarkable. These results are publishable. Sally would have been famous.

[Holly's expression darkens, her voice tinged with sadness as she delivers the heartbreaking news.]

Holly Shiftwell: She won't be famous, Finn. Sally... she died in a fire the night before her birthday.

[In Radiator Springs, Sally chases Leland around, clearly agitated. Meanwhile, Lightning approaches them, calling out to Sally to begin her training. On one side of the screen, Sally and Leland are engaged in a heated conversation, while on the other side, Lightning intervenes.]

Sally Carrera: (frustrated) Leland, we need to talk about this!

Leland Turbo: (trying to evade) Sally, please, let's just forget about it!

[Sally's expression is determined as she continues her pursuit, but Lightning's voice cuts through the tension.]

Lightning McQueen: (calling out) Sally, it's time to start your training!

[Sally reluctantly breaks away from her chase and turns towards Lightning, her frustration evident.]

Sally Carrera: Lightning, I can't believe you didn't give me any marks for my oilcan-shaped racetrack!

[Lightning steps closer, his tone gentle yet firm as he responds to Sally's complaint.]

Lightning McQueen: Sally, you know the rules. The racetrack has to resemble a can of oil. Yours didn't quite make the mark.

[Sally's expression softens slightly, but she still protests, her voice tinged with exasperation.]

Sally Carrera: But Lightning, I didn't have enough room to finish it properly!

[Lightning sighs, understanding Sally's frustration but also remaining firm in his decision.]

Lightning McQueen: I know, Sally, but rules are rules. We have to be fair to everyone.

[In London, Finn and Holly are engrossed in their work, each focused on their respective tasks. Finn glances up and notices Holly's dwindling energy reserves, prompting him to remind her.]

Finn McMissile: Holly, you're running low on gas again. You should refuel soon.

[Holly nods absentmindedly, acknowledging Finn's reminder. She continues typing on her computer, deep in thought. Finn watches her for a moment before speaking up again.]

Finn McMissile: You know, Holly, oil in a spy car is a bit like the swirl of plasma in oil. It can be intermixed with love.

[Meanwhile, in Radiator Springs, Sally approaches Lightning with a serious question. Her expression is thoughtful as she broaches the topic.]

Sally Carrera: Lightning, do you think I should marry Leland?

[Lightning looks taken aback by Sally's question, pausing for a moment before responding.]

Lightning McQueen: Marry Leland? Well, Sally, that seems highly unlikely.

[Sally listens intently to Lightning's response, considering his words carefully before speaking again.]

Sally Carrera: Hmm, I suppose you're right. But Lightning, you promised to teach me how to waltz.

[Lightning nods, remembering his promise to Sally. He reaches for something nearby and hands it to her, changing the subject.]

Lightning McQueen: Here, take a look at this. It's an essay from the Racing Academy in Paris. It's quite similar to your own work. The author has found a contradiction in the theory of European racecar ethnic groups.

[Topsy enters the room in London, looking around for Siddeley, who is not immediately visible. At the same time, Flo strides into the garage in Radiator Springs, her expression tense with frustration.]

Topsy Turbo: (calling out) Siddeley? Where are you?

Flo: (to Ramon) Ramon, I told you the noise from that engine has got to stop.

[Sally slams the book containing the essay on DEI races down on the table, drawing everyone's attention to her.]

Sally Carrera: (assertively) I was right. The problem with DEI racing is likely hidden in the author's observations about the action of racecars in hate.

[Ramon enters the room in Radiator Springs, greeted by Flo's stern gaze.]

Ramon: (apologetically) Flo, I didn't mean to upset you.

Flo: (exasperated) Ramon, I just don't understand. Why are you draining the lake? And what's with this lemon garage you built without a lemon?

[Meanwhile, Lightning, curious about the conversation, interjects with a question for Ramon.]

Lightning McQueen: (to Ramon) Hey, Ramon, do you think there might be room for a synth in that lemon garage?

[The tension in the room in London eases as Holly enters, carrying the body shop book. Sir Axlerod follows closely behind.]

Sir Miles Axlerod: (hopeful) Holly, what have you found?

[Holly opens the body shop book, revealing an entry from October 1st that disproves Sir Axlerod's theory. His expression falls as Holly speaks.]

Holly Shiftwell: (firmly) This entry proves that Mater the poet was the same Mater who was killed by a monkey bite in Martinique. Leland did not kill Mater.

[Meanwhile, in Radiator Springs, Lightning enters the room with an oil lamp, followed by Sally who slips in quietly. Lightning and Sally's eyes meet, and he smiles.]

Lightning McQueen: (gentle) Sally, you ready?

[Sally nods, her expression eager as she steps closer to Lightning.]

Sally Carrera: (excited) Yes, Lightning. I'm ready.

[Back in London, Holly turns to Sir Axlerod with determination.]

Holly Shiftwell: (to Sir Axlerod) I intend to write a letter to The Times explaining this discovery.

[As Lightning and Sally discuss her diagrams, the atmosphere in Radiator Springs is filled with anticipation for the dance.]

Lightning McQueen: (encouraging) Let's take a look at your diagrams, Sally.

[Sally nods, her attention focused on Lightning as she speaks softly.]

Sally Carrera: (earnestly) I want you to understand them, Lightning.

[The synth music inside the house transitions to a waltz, signaling the start of the dance. Sally and Lightning begin to dance, their movements graceful and synchronized.]

[In London, Siddeley enters the room, carrying a picture that Sally drew of Lightning. He hands it to Holly, who looks at it in surprise.]

Siddeley: (gesturing towards the picture) Holly, look what I found.

[Holly's eyes widen as she takes the picture, a smile spreading across her face.]

Holly Shiftwell: (amazed) It's beautiful, Siddeley.

[As the waltz music fills the air, Siddeley and Holly join the others on the dance floor, their movements fluid and harmonious.]

#cars 2 movie #holley shiftwell #lightning mcqueen #sally carrera #spilled truth #lovers

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phantom-of-the-keurig · 6 months

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Parachuting in to distract you!

Did you end up watching the rest of Ahsoka?

Do you deeply wish you could unwatch it if you did?

Do you hate Ezra less now, but at what cost?

I only watched the first episode ( ͡❛ ﹏ ͡❛)

Literally I could not make it past that. my hatred for rebels (specifically Sabine and Ezra) is so intense it’s borderline unhealthy.

I watched the clone wars / anakin clips on YouTube, which were pretty great. But other than that I refuse to watch any more for the sake of my health because I have been told too much anger is bad for my heart.

I am sad to report my hatred for Ezra has only grown, if that’s even possible. No idea what he does in the show, just seeing stills and gifs of him has refueled my rage

Me trynna not to think about TW: Rebels too much or I’ll turn into a mean ass bitch

#anyway it’s awesome if you only watch the first episode bc Sabine gets stabbed and Ezra is still gone lol #ahsoka series #sw salt #reply #thanks for the ask!

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wolfspiders-web · 1 year

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Scarlet and Violet have REALLY got me thinking about a Pokemon AU I've been spitballing in my head for a long while now, so I'm deciding to write it all out finally because I realized those games potentially fit nicely into it.

Two things have plagued me about the Pokemon universe, and I wanted to come up with reasons to explain them. I wanted answers to the questions of why:

..do Pokemon listen to and understand humans on a level higher than a mere animal, yet don't try to overthrow them as the superior species?

..that for all their high technology, there are little to no robots?

The idea is this takes place in our future, but in Pokemon's distant past.

(While I am aware of Scarlet/Violet leaks this write-up doesn't have any spoilers, but I'm going to include those thoughts in an optional Part 2.)

What they could burn, they burned. What they could bury, they buried. When they couldn't do either, they left far beneath the waves or the darkest depths of space and vowed to never create any wretched machinae ever again…

The creatures that would eventually become Pokemon started out innocently enough. In the beginning, in order to fund advances in biological sciences harmless but weird pets were created. These quickly became all the rage due to their fanciful forms and "magical" powers, and owning a regular cat or dog rapidly fell out of favor.

They were highly intelligent, but genetically predisposed to listen to their owner or "trainer" and the Types available would be very basic in ability and based on things you'd see in nature (Normal, Flying, Bug, Poison, Grass, etc). The "pocket" ability that would compress them into a small area such as a hollow ball was not understood well even by their own creators, but it made transporting the creatures much easier.

Genetics wasn't the only thing advancing, robotics and AI were too. While the proto-Pokemon were created with complete loyalty to humans in mind, the machines were autonomous, both in thinking and refueling on any biomass* they can find, and designed for ever-escalating global wars.

(you might think I snagged this from the Horizon: Zero Dawn series, but this article about people being concerned of a robot self-feeding on biomass has been stuck in my head before that game was ever thought of, the difference is we just didn't listen)

This is where it all went horribly, horribly wrong. Singularity was reached and an AI took control of nearly all technology, creating a robot hivemind that desired to replace inefficient organic life. The last of the megafauna goes extinct and ecosystems collapse, only to be replaced by robots, and humanity teeters on a razor's edge. In a desperate bid a handful of Pokemon Centers started to modify their cute companion creatures into weapons in their own right, creating offensive Types like Fire, Electric, Steel, Dragon, etc., and work on the Mythicals and Legendaries (sans modern ones like Mewtwo, Genesect, Type: Null, etc.) starts.

These Pokemon are functionally immortal with extremely long lifespans and high intelligence. Even so even they must eventually die, being reborn with their memories passed on to a sole heir; the parent doesn't survive long past this parthenogenesis. Some were designed to terraform and purify war-ravaged areas, others to lead, and others were simply biological nuclear bombs meant to level entire armies of robots.

Desperate humans also inject themselves with Pokemon strains which eventually turn them into proto-Ghost, Fighting, and Psychic types, and the first Humanshape Pokemon appear. Mew, the first prototype and a living bank of all Pokemon genes, was modified into a Mythical with the help of a strain pulled from one of these early Psychics.

Months turn into years but finally, the war is won and the master computer is destroyed. The earth will never be the same ever again; old maps are useless, the scars of war still linger, and Pokemon begin to fill empty ecological niches. The Legendaries and Mythicals, their purpose fulfilled, are left with a bitter taste in their mouth over humanity's mistakes and their purpose as mere weapons instead of companion creatures. They peacefully retreat to remote corners of the earth to be left alone, deep space, or sleep between the layers of our reality and the next. Though they remember, even for creatures as powerful as they it was immensely traumatizing and so they Do Not Speak of the times of smoke, metal, and blood.

Humanity begin to rebuild but not without some tension between "pure" folk and the modified ones. Eventually most of these modified humans slip into the wild, while the least mutated/most "normal" ones stay to pass down genetics that give their descendants minor powers (Psychics). And many Pokemon went wild or feral, but never completely lost their ability to obey humanity.

Thousands of years pass, and the scars have long since gone. Pokemon no longer resemble their original forms, having adapted to their environments over the centuries or from selective breeding by humans. No written records survive of the Great Robot War, and the unchanging and ever-remembering Legendaries and Mythicals aren't speaking of those times.

Perhaps this is for the better. But without knowing the past, history may eventually repeat itself one day..

#luparaneo writes #pokemon #pokemon au #pkmn

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