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#still working on developing him a bit though

crookedkryptonitebeliever · 3 days

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Ok regarding that “can i make Yves do my homework if I give him my childhood pictures” ask, exactly how much access does Yves have to our lives? Does he have images or videos from when we were still a baby or would they be new information to him?

A bunch of my baby pictures and videos are lost because my dad lost the computer that had them but we recently found my aunt’s old camera filled with our childhood pictures, it was a pleasant surprise for us but would it be for Yves too?

It absolutely is. If Yves was there with you while your aunt showed you the photo gallery of her old camera, Yves would momentarily lose a bit of inhibition and let his pupils dilate to a maddening degree before instantly constricting it back to appear normal. It's a rare, super deluxe edition photos of you, there isn't anything else like it out there as they're most likely not uploaded to the internet or a cloud based service, where he could easily hack.

Him coming across media from your childhood or at least during those early days where people still go to and get their photos developed, is like winning the lottery for him. Because, although he tries to collect everything relating to your existence, there is only so much he can do in a day. He rather prioritizes the present and the future, as the past is the past; neither you nor him can change it, he can only understand or connect it to your current behaviours or thought patterns.

He does have some information about you as a baby or a child, but that is if they're "readily available" to him. (I.e., it can be found in predictable places like in your childhood home.), that is why, Yves would try to build a good relationship with people you grew up with, to extract information.

Despite being reclusive as he is, Yves would never fail to attend every and any family gathering he is invited to or expected to come. Encouraging that drunk uncle to drink more if he knew he has something to say about you, bribing your relatives with gifts and career opportunities, perhaps even drugging that really difficult and combative cousin to make them more bearable to interrogate.

As soon as he knew your aunt could be another goldmine of your data, he would get to work. Wasting no time building a rapport with her, it's a piece of cake given how obsessive and manipulative his nature is.

Inevitably, your aunt will come to love him and see Yves as family. By extension, her relationship with you will skyrocket too, she will invite you to her place much more often even though she might not be the most sociable person in the first place. Yves will find a way to make her bend to his whims.

The majority of their conversations would be about you, only sometimes Yves would talk about something else if it meant he could keep the drive to spill more about your lore going. His sharp ears and mind will pick up on clues as to where he might find more pictures or writings about you. He would then break into your aunt's home to give it a thorough shakedown and leave without a trace. Yves would repeat this process until he's positive that she has nothing left to offer. That camera is getting fucking stolen and replaced with a duplicate.

It didn't matter if your aunt was a minimalist or a severe hoarder, he would go through all her things just to try and find pieces of your puzzle. He would wade through cobwebs, dust piles, rat droppings and mould if he had to, Yves isn't scared to get dirty to obtain what he wants, "squeamish" isn't in his vocabulary.

When she is robbed of all your essence, Yves would become distant. Not hostile towards her, just cold and indifferent. He would still maintain some sort of relationship with her though, in case she becomes useful again later. As of now, he either puts his entire focus on your current peripheral and direct life, or start to hunt other members down- from his snooping, he had learned of other people who may have valuable input about your childhood.

All of this is happening in the background. You wouldn't suspect a thing, there wasn't a dip in his attention for you. In fact, he may have gotten a lot more smothering, as Yves would be shaking at the thought of testing out his new theories and hypothesis that were birthed from his new knowledge.

He just loves you so much that he couldn't help himself but to get greedy. Yves wants all of you; past, present and future. And any version of you that could have been.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader

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berensteinsmonster · 2 days

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TVOGXART corporation, what the heck is it (a master post)

(reblogs help my posts be seen :)

TVOGXART (The Vice Overruling Guardian Axis of Alliance Reverant Territories) corp. are globally known as being the best of the best when it comes to world development milestones that uses funds generated from each ministry's operations to make the world a better place. Most notable are its progress towards enviromental/land conservation. Even it's offices within the areas are built to accomodate for the land.

This however, is all a front. TVOG corp is a THE largest underground crime syndicate that currently rules over a majority of the entire world's fair trade market and societal operations.

They control the whole crime world, kind of like a pyramid of shady business chains, it all links back to The TVOG. They are a crime organization that literally organizes crime.

The Ministry of Order, ruled by Captain Bailfalse, is located where the GOVT (in the orignal thsc universe) stationed their army. Only this time, there are huge office buildings and foundations are built around the landscape of the tropical forest. Capt. Bailfalse may be a crime lord but he was very honest about actually conserving the enviroment. Though that virtue isn't shared amongst the other chairmen.

Btw on top of being a politely cold evil man ceo he is also VERY SILLY when being with his personal henchman, Charles Rebelivin... Who wishes his boss would act more serious whenever they're together

(More bios for each chairman (and Charles) below read more) (with art!!!)(cw. blood n eyes)

🎧Charles Rebelivin - Director in management (Ministry of Order)

"The first thing a new recruit at The Ministry of Order is told by other TVOG employees that they can always ask Mr. Rebelivin for help. The second thing theyre told is that they cannot always ask Mr. Rebelivin for bathroom breaks"

Color Motif: Primarily Red, with bits of The TVOG's turquoise green

To me, an opposite Charles Calvin is someone who just hates their fucking job lmao. This guy is not at all laid back, or enjoys jokes, or buffoonery. He has to be the one who schedules and organizes everything in the Ministry of Order so that operations run smoothly and cleanly as possible. He genuinely WANTS to be a good director for the employees. They know that too. Its just that he's learned to be better at controlling people rather than connecting with them. At the start of the hv au story, he's "content" being alone.

Charles R is 30 years old by the time the hv au takes place. He USED to be the youngest employee at the TVOGXART, but that was a title given to him like. 5+ years ago. He's been working here for a while, he doesn't care for it anymore and finds the title insulting. He expects the best from his employees. And expects the best from himself. Very loyal to his position as The Captain's henchman, and a complete workaholic. Could kill a guy if The Captain told him too, and his only form of questioning is asking how he shall do it. Acts as his guard dog that The Captain smothers, much to his annoyance. Je protects his boss regardless and scares the other chairmen. Is also very formal with titles, usually referring to people by their surname and position of power. Is prone to using terms such as "The Captain, captain, sir" when talking to Bailfalse. Has used words such as "Greatest" sarcastically, and "buddy, pal" passive agressively, usually on Henry V (though eventually, the whole buddy thing becomes genuine as they develop their friendship. Still going to be grump no matter what though but affectionate ok). Also expect to see less of greatest plan inverses, and more just so Charles learning how to be a decent friend within the Trio-V. It's awesome ghrhrg I can't wait to share them :)

👑Captain Hubert Bailfalse (Ministry of Order)

"A smooth talking salesman that has climbed up the social economic ladder to take control over all operations in the whole world. He believes in the value of good work ethic and polite ettiquettes."

Hedonist. Plant motif: venus flytrap

He's a silly guy I love him. He inverses Galeforce being serious but considerate and honest general, with Bailfalse being a relaxed but devious and convicing CEO. Though take note: he is the only chairman amongst the rest to not have come from a well-off or rich family.

He also doesn't carry Galeforce's trope of being a "father to his men." Sees his employees as expendable numbers. But not to the level of mistreatment like with the other charimen. He pays them, hes pateint, offers them dental plans, and makes sure they'll be able to perform efficiently for the whole period they work for him. And that's as much care as he's willing to put for anybody else other than pleassure for himself.

...Except for Charles. He cares alot for Charles. And he's not subtle about it too. As his personal henchman for the longest time, he's prone to using titles such as "My boy, Charlie, sport" when talking to him. Much to Charles' own annoyance. They're literally competent henchman + silly hammy villain (with a dose of terrifying if the situation came down to it). He likes to spoil the director with riches and gifts for all the work he's done for The TVOG, even though Charles doesn't want them.

He is married to Hans Nonayme and they are literalllyyyy evil old man yaoi. augh im obsessed with them. They nuzzle eachothers mustaches and it makes them smile :) Even in public. Which adds to Charles' embarrasment to have them as his bosses. He is also DIVORCED To Dr. Dimitri J. Pavlov. But I'll talk abt that another time.

👁️Chairman Hans Nonayme (Ministry of Privacy)

All-watching. Plant motif: Oriental Bittersweet

He manages the cameras. All of them. Everywhere, and all at once. He's very giddy about it and enjoys the surveliance he has over every part of the world. The Ministry of Privacy was meant to protect people's identities and personal information, and yet Hans knows a little too much about everybody, no matter who you ask about. I'm sure he has employees that also monitor the cameras, but rn I've mainly just been visualizing him doing it lone.

His cameras are meant to look like both flowers and the berries on a Orteinal Bittersweet vine, a type of invasive plant. These things are creeping EVERYWHERE in the hv au universe if you look for them. The Cowwoy Posse take great meassures to destroy the cameras if spotted. They don't make themselves known. However, if any TVOG employee (mainly Charles) sees them, their lenses blink rapidly in sucession. Which is Hans' own cheeky way of giggling at them. He does this in real life too with his own eyes. He's so weird, I love him alot.

He's actually based off this guy from the original THSC legacy edition. I always thought it was creepy how the GOVT had a whole spy camera inside of Stickmin's computer just watching his activity, and then had the guy stationed outside his home. I thought that was kinda interesting and just exaggerated his character from there. And made him gay and evil, cuz I can

💥Chairman Victoria Grin (Ministry of Peace)

Violent. Plant motif: Lily of The Valley

Oh she's messed up in the head. I like to believe that Victoria Grit is, while rough and tempered, is at least not malevolent and going out of her way to cause pure violence like Victoria Grin does. So there's that. Grin is also completely unreasoanble and pretty immature. The chairman also dreses very fancy but isn't afraid to throw herself into a fight if she's bored with all the meeting and agreements and treaties she has to do amongst the other crime syndicates and blah blah blah SHES BOREDD she wants to pull out her Peacemaker (A giant Fucking bazooka) and threaten people to sign their names on the forms already so she can go back to the more action stuff like beating up those pesky goody two-shoes cowboys getting on her nerves.

Hubert can't stand how immpatient and unnessarily blood thirsty she can be, though admires her for at least being able to establish the connections The TVOG has with other factions, both in crime related operations or just regular business stuff. It helps to strengthen the grasp they have over the world. Known as "Vicky" amongst the other chairmen. She likes to kiss Hydia Stash, and are evil little girlfriends together. She makes jokes about swinging with Hershell Proctor's wife Mrs. Proctor to peeve him. And she loves bullying HJ Carterbunny

🐇Chairman H.J Carterbunny (Ministry of Security)

Cowardly. Plant motif: Jumping Cactus

To say he's in charge of the Ministry of Security would be putting his leadership skills too high of a pedestal.

Hj is so pathetic. so very very pathetic. He is scared at the slightest things and his immediate instinct is to run away as far from the danger and wait until its gone. Or barricade himself somewhere. Which is why he's so efficient at the Ministry of Security, he's really just listing all the worst case scenario someone could break in. And his employees, while very tired and skeptical, add it anyways. Most of the time he doesnt trust that they did it well enough and try to add MORE security protocols, which only make them weaker as a whole.

If their defences are breached, Hj just ditches his employees to self-preserve himself, and puts the failure on them before taking responsibility as their chairman. He never considers himself as a a factor for his hubris. And so they all hate Hj in their own little ways <3 because he self sabotages their work and also because he regularly abandons them if they get attacked.

Just to ramble: One time Regal Bronzeage, local superhero, managed to fight all five of the employees all at once. And when he was ready to fight their chairman, he found that the guy had already left. not even in like a vechile he's just hiding in a tiny supply closet hoping nobody finds him

He has a brother who works in the Police Force Enforcement Force, Warden Roland Carterbunny. Roland is probably the one who made Hj so paranoid in the first place, and his psyche just got worse from there. He got bullied alot by him when they were kids, and Hj is the eldest one here. He might not even be that old, it's just that he was stressed so fucking much that all his hair turned grey when he turned 20.

Just to ramble: Dr Dimitri honestly pities the guy, even though he's literally a TVOG chairman. He just wants to sit this guy down and go into detail on how to properly handle his over abundance of anxiety. Cuz all day all the time none of the chairmen or most of his own employees (Aside form Gordon) care enough to actually handle his stress in a healthy sort of way. But he'll never get the chance because they're on opposing sides, and Hj doesn't trust anyone enough to let them do anything to him.

He could have turned out pretty fine, if still riddled with anxiety like everybody else. If it weren't for the literal fact that all his colleages are TERRIBLE and his own brother being absolutely terrible to him, whether enabling or belitting him.

💸Chairman Hydia Stash (Ministry of Wealth)

Greedy. Plant motif: Sun Pitcher Plant

She loves being rich. That's it. That's the whole bio.

Jk, she takes it to the extreme. It doesn't matter what she has in her vaults, whether it be dollars, gold coins, gems even. It's not enough. She needs, MORE valauble things. And I'm talking the most insanely scalped items. Beanie babies, Funko pops, houses, land. She needs EVERYTHING.

The Ministry of Wealth is actually meant to help distribute funds across all operations, both inside The TVOG and to other affilated factions. They also work to account for funds and general ledging of their budget. Her plant motif of a pitcher plant symbolizes how ever consuming she can be.

Hydia is the worst to have as a chairman honestly. Cannot be expected to always pay her employees. She's quick to irritate and quicker to throw a tantrum about it. She also likes kissing Victoria.

In the hv au lore, Reginald Bronzepants is a journalist for the Cowwoy Posse who worked with Lt. HRM to help publish their investigations together, busting various crime syndicates. And well, everything links back to The TVOG. Hydia HATED this drop in revenue she was losing (it was 15 dollars) from her billion dollar generating Ministry. And so, without The Captain's permission, she enacts an unauthorized assassination of Reginald Bronzepants. Just to ease her worries. Surely this won't bite her in the ass later. Surely he won't come back as an electricity-wielding, local superhero, will he?

🧠Chairman Hershell Proctor (Ministry of Education)

Dismissive. Plant motif: Psilocybin mushrooms

Ok to explain real quick, I inversed Hershell Panzer's roll of being a brute so that Hershell Proctor could be the brains. He has thrown himself into every field of study imaginable and has excelled in every course, which in his (super huge) mind, makes him a well respectable genius. He's firm in his belief that his intelligence makes him better than everybody else. He doesn't do anything to share his knowledge or teach them to others, he wants to hoard it for himself. No one else is allowed to be as smart as him

Oh, but don't think that being an iverse for physical strength automatically makes him weaker. What he lacks in any arm and torso muscles, he has an inner working system in his brain full of so many studies and so many wrinkles. I won't explain the full extent of his mental powers, but just know that it does involve psychic abilities :)

The Ministry of Education controls the information that's permitted to be shared across the world. There's some information that The TVOG keep hidden (sometimes their own secrets or an external entity) inside the Ministry of Education's archives, guarded by Dave Pampalooza. They front as an education system that protects the sacrecy of accessible knowledge.

Does not have the best relationship with his family. And has so much seething rage towards what Hubert has and what he doesn't. Caused a certain.....incident, to prove he's the smartest of all.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Jefferson Mythsonian

"No one really knows if he exists" Rules Division 17 of the TVOG, has some really terrible handwriting

Carterbunny's bodyguards - and only employees (Ministry of Security)

Chrm. Carterbunny only has 5 employees cuz if he has to maange more than 5 he Gets Scared. They ensure all TVOG owned and affiliated security protocals are working as intended. Current members are: John Skimmilk (codename: The Fly), Gordon Debunks (codename: The Urchin), Amelia Estefort (codename: The Jellyfish), Amelia Estefort (codename: The Jellyfish), Cece Teevee (codename: The Lizard), & Kayn East (codename: The Rat) - Will be talked about in seperate post (They are the HV AU equivalent ot the squad Stickmin has in MBH)

Scott McCoolsvile - Tax accountant (Ministry of Wealth)

Coolest fucking guy here. He's so awesome and the best at his job. He helps his fellow colleages in his office and the employees over at Ministry of Order whenever he visits. Everyone cheers and claps when he visits. They all love him and says he has the best name (Not Charles R though, he hates that guy. Totally). He works in accounting

--BTW girl pictured with ponytail and cardigan judging Hydia is my friend's oc Jynx (more art) @digital-roots (they/them) GO EHM check it out too Jynx is sooo swag i love her concept and I love her character alot.

The scene is based off this interaction we had.

Capt. Bailfalse's personal henchmen (The Trio-V: Ministry of Order)

"Consisting of one puppeteer, one emo, and one grump, these three are usually sent for very important missions only. And depending on how well they cooperate, may be able to finish them."

The Trio-V of: Henry Ventriloquest, Rose Ellisha, and Charles Rebelivin. - Will be talked about in seperate post

Johnny Proctor (Police Force Enforcement Force)

Has seen better days when his friends Dave Pampalooza and Rupert Phred were still around. After Dave was sent to the Ministry of Education to work as a TVOG employee, and Rupert quitting a week later, a certain.....Incident. Happened. The Pampalooza Incident involving new re-education methods with Hershell Proctor. Johnny has cut off all contact with his father after that. - Will be talked about in seperate post

If you have questions uhm. feel free to leave them in my ask box :) i love talking about my hv au. Thank you for reading

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ruddyhotelau · 3 days

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It would be nice to learn little things about your Michael's personality or relationship with others, have you answered before? sorry if you did

Well we already answer a question about personalities before, I will screenshot it for you, and about his relationship with others... Michael in Ruddy Hotel AU also doesn't have many relationships, he is not someone who easily opens up to people he rarely interacts with.

+) To Emily: Michael didn't really like children, but back then when Sera just had a younger sister. Seeing that Sera was busy taking care of her sister but still had to do a lot of work as a high-ranking Seraphim and as Michael's assistant, he offered to let him take care of Emily to help Sera when she needed it. God thought it was okay so He agreed because a young Seraphim with great potential like Emily should be closely watched. Over time, the two became closer to each other, especially after Emily learned to speak, she immediately called Michael her uncle even though Michael and Sera tried to correct her but failed. In the end, Michael also considered Emily his niece. Emily then became Michael's only sunlight in the darkness of Hell, his family and eternal pride.

+) To Sera: Michael only sees Sera as a colleague, an assistant and a friend, nothing more and nothing less. Usually, their conversations would just revolve around work and Emily. Michael respects Sera and so does Sera. On rare occasions, they will also talk about what happened in Heaven but not too much because they both still carry scars from the old battle.

+) To his siblings: Michael really loves and misses his younger siblings, in Heaven they are the few people he can truly open up to and who truly understood Michael. Now, he wants to avoid causing any more harm to his siblings, so no matter how much he misses them, it's best not to meet them because their status are no longer the same as before... Now there's only the King of Hell and the 7 angels protecting Heaven...

+) To the other Deadly Sins: The 6 Deadly Sins were born right from the moment Adam bit the forbidden fruit and Hell was created. At first, they didn't like Michael very much because of his unapproachable, rigid and stubborn personality. However, since they are all leaders of each Ring, they meet to work quite often. Gradually, the Deadly Sins realized that Michael might not be as bad as they thought. Although Michael does not like Hell, demons and sinners, he still gives opinions and makes changes to help Hell become more orderly, manageable and well developed. As time passed, the Deadly Sins also became closer to Michael, although he repeatedly avoided them or showed discomfort, but all 6 Deadly Sins knew that the King of Hell was slowly accepting them.

+) To sinners: Hate, disgust and contempt. In Michael's eyes, they were nothing more than the scum of the world, and it was for this reason that Michael initially did not support Emily's hotel idea. But in the end, it was still thanks to her that Michael understood a little more about his people...

#ruddy hotel #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel swap au #hazbin hotel michael #hazbin hotel oc

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drewsaturday · 10 months

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long rambly annie appreciation post

i love my feral gremlin child annie SO much and i think something really fun about her is how she just... has no Need for relationships besides Dog?

she does seem to benefit from hanging out with charlie, and there's some potential there with irene. but she's stuck it out on her own so long she and dog can take care of themselves. she doesn't need to be nice and polite because she doesn't need anything from anyone else and even if she did she'd more realistically use force to get it lol.

and i mean, i can't even blame her because the first humans she came across in a decade shot at her best friend. besides the fact force is a solution she knows works and the fact she's been alone so long she's never HAD to consider any other solution, how can she trust any of the humans she just got thrown into these situations with?

we did see her actually develop a bit as well when she decided to stay with irene's camp, possibly showing a willingness to be open to relationships (or at least her knowing she and dog can't brave this one alone.) she had irene apologize instead of letting dog maul her. but i like that her personality didn't change all that much in the meantime.

i like that she's didn't feel pressured to start playing nice because like, she doesn't owe that to anyone. she has pretty much no reason to act nice and polite... i don't even think she knows HOW to honestly (see: her immediate "oh my god this coffee?? it's DISGUSTING" reaction in episode 1 instead of trying to pretend she's grateful for their attempt to warm her up j;lkLKJ).

and i particularly love how she didn't fall into the pitfalls of like, in stranger things having el see herself in the mirror and go "pretty o:" because... annie has no concept of society anymore. she has vague memories of a mom, she has a small child's understanding of the world she came from, but the only expectations she feels are 1) to survive and 2) to be dog's best friend.

i also loved that despite forgetting so much and adapting so hard, she DID still care that irene didn't find her for 10 years. she did love her dad. and so i have to wonder if that sense of betrayal, the impending doom of knowing someone you love will just die, is another factor in her being so Annie. she said it herself - any time someone had told her she's safe, they've died. people are weak and fragile and they're going to fail her, but she and dog are strong and invincible and that's Safe (i say, hoping dog survived that finale).

why change that now?

#skull island tag #all that to say i think if anything we've seen some development for her accepting that she and dog #can't survive this situation alone and that maybe there's some value in learning more about other people #i mean she keeps saving charlie and mike even tho dog doesn't like em all that much aj;lksdf she knows they're on her side #but that doesn't mean she's suddenly going to be nice and polite about it #she's tried playing nice a bit like admitting she doesn't rly know how friendships work and letting irene live lol #but this is a Lot for a KID who has spent most of her life in her own little world with dog and i don't #think it's fair to expect much else from her #i think honestly if anything it's cool that the show isn't forcing much else on her #OH ALSO ALSO!!! SHE CAN BE SO THOUGHTFUL like she saw everything they put kong through #and still wanted to hand him back the necklace #she didn't see him as just a means to an end despite the survivalism i've mentioned #she knows the necklace is important to him even though she has no idea why #she knows--because of dog--that these creatures can have so much heart #he helped save her and dog and she wanted to return the favor #if she were selfish she never would've stuck around on that beach

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honestsycrets · 9 months

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mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it.

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free.

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.”

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--”

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--”

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.”

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face.

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets.

“She likes it.”

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.”

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar.

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.”

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.”

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,”

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face.

“As many as will make you happy.”

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.”

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?”

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for.

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father.

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.”

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable.

Low sperm count his ass.

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it.

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.”

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.”

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel.

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them.

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.”

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly.

“Sí, Miggy?”

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so.

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that.

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place.

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder.

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck.

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone.

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day.

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is.

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready.

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall.

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.”

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.”

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.”

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck.

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.”

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest.

“Who would come in?”

“Peter,” you answer.

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see.

“The balcony, then.”

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?”

“Maybe.”

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter.

“Bend over.”

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now.

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.”

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth.

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?”

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again.

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back.

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability.

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable.

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach.

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body.

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs.

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days. “Like… not this.”

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.”

“Don’t start.”

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging.

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--”

“Let me guess. She told you.”

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?”

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe.

“Are you sure? I know--”

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.”

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?”

He leers. Peter scuttles away.

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

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miafeystits · 1 year

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u know i complain a lot about being a slow writer (which maybe is just a matter of practice to some degree-- i dont have the same problem with non fiction writing but i also have way way more experience writing essays than i do creative work) but tbh sometimes i think this might be a good thing? on the level of 'gives ideas some time to stew so i have a more exact idea of what im trying to say and how i want to say it' yeah but also i think that sometimes the best way to figure out how to improve a piece of writing is just to stop looking at it for a little while. i swear every time i put a piece of writing to the side for like a month (either for work/school reasons or just because it's starting to piss me off) when i come back to it i almost always immediately spot the solutions to issues i had a hard time identifying or resolving earlier. especially true of bigger structural problems i think! i just came back to the asoryuu fic im working on polishing up (i say like i haven't been 'polishing' for several months lmao) and after rereading for the first time in a while i IMMEDIATELY figured out why the pacing had been rubbing me the wrong way and how to fix it. so like, im trying to get faster and more consistent as a writer? but i think just acknowledging the fact that not finishing stories quickly can be an overall boon to the final product helps me better deal with the fact that for me, due to a variety of factors, writing even short fiction is unlikely to ever be a speedy process.

anyway all this to say im hoping that this asoryuu fic can be published sometime this summer (because the worst part of being a slow writer is it takes so long to show people my work) but i make absolutely no promises lmao

#honestly doing literary translation work has helped a lot though #its a nice space to get to play with language and syntax without having to deal with the horror that is 'coming up with my own material'#plus its space to play around in a different authors style!#idk if itll be noticeable but i think how i write ryuu's pov has def been influenced by the prose ive been translating #although its also just a bit different because i have fairly different visions for how susato & ryuus internal narration sound #ryuu's pov is def influenced by me translating some of the longest sentences known to man but also #to me his voice is just more rambly & more interested in extensive description of others & his surroundings #vs i tend to write susato's voice with much shorter sentences bc shes much more focused & no nonsense #im still developing kazuma's voice but he's somewhere in the middle #theres a sharp focus to him but also #god he's such a fucking scorpio huh. water sign ass motherfucker.#anyway. this ramble is fully to distract myself from working on final projects lol #i WISH i could be doing some writing for fun right now but alas. gotta analyze poetry.#good night everyone ill see u when i have free time again

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 months

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hi i see that you have much smart dog experience. i may have accidentally purchased such a dog. she's only 10 weeks, and ive had her 1, and she's already outmatched every puzzle feeder i got or have made. to the point that she is morosely disappointed when her food comes in an actual food bowl. do you know where i can find like. "heres 100 enrichment toys you can make out of free trash so your dog stops eating fucking rocks for enrichment" lists. i only have so many paper towel tubes XD

Herschel now just disassembles puzzle feeders, so I've been focusing on "Toys that, even if he already knows how to operate them, will still take TIME for him to collect the treat from" to give him something to fuss with.

Herschel eats all his meals out of a Kong Wobbler, because he will otherwise eat so fast he will literally inhale and choke on his kibble and I do not need him developing pneumonia from aspiration. Even though it's a "Simple" toy it slows him down and he does have to think a bit to tip it in the most efficient manner possible. Kong's "Flipz", "Gyro" and "Rewards Wally" are also really good "dog needs to think/carefully manipulate the toy for food" toys that act as both mental stimulation and exercise and "give human a break for up to twelve minutes" toys.

I highly reccomend KONG as a brand- they're local to Denver and have an impeccable saftey record and all of the toys I have gotten from them have held up extremely well vs. the ravages of three entirely too smart and strong-jawed dogs at once.

Some more thoughts:

If she's not prone to shredding rubber, the kind of treat toys she has to chew are also good stimulation.

If you don't want to give her That Many treats, my vet said that dogs can have as many green beans as they want. Just make sure that the beans haven't had salt added to them- canned usually does, but frozen green beans usually don't, but always check the label.

You can make nearly any toy last longer, or make a cheap long-puzzle by freezing the treats so they take longer to eat AND provides hydration. Herschel's most favorite treat of all time is literally a wad of sliced green beans in a dixie cup, filled with water and frozen. Just peel off the cup and hand him the chunk of ice and he's good for up to half an hour and more chill afterwards.

You can also freeze lick mats

If your girl is like Charlie and doesn't like greenbeans, you can also try freezing paper cups of: Canned pumpkin, apple slices in water, putting some ice cubes in the bottom of the cup, a gob of peanut butter in the middle and then fill it with water to make a peanutbutter filled ice cube.

If your girl is REALLY like charlie who has figured out how to use labor negotiation and strike tactics for better treats: boiled chicken chunks frozen in some of the water you boiled them in.

Walkies are as much mental stimulation as they are physical exercise. Take her out and let her sniff to her heart's content.

Also Puppies in particular need like, SO MUCH exercise.

Let her participate in activities with you. Herschel and charlie sit in the kitchen and I narrate cooking dinner to them, which seems to interest them, even if I don't have spare veggie ends to give them. I also frequently bring them along in the car if I'm running errands when it's cold enough to do that, so they have something new to look at, and get to participate. I also am more likely to stop at a new park and give myself some exercise and mental stimulation.

Training her to do tasks is GREAT Smart Dog enrichment- esp if she's a herding or heeler, they LOVE being helpful. I taught the dogs they get a small treat if they come in from the yard without me having to go chase them down, which saved me a lot of hassle, and now I'm working on teaching herschel to pick things up off the floor for me if I drop them and alert for chickpeas, which my housemate is allergic to.

A lot of dogs like cat-type toys. Tie a stick or some fleece to some paracord and drag or flycast it around for her to chase/play tug with when she catches it. Toys that bounce unexpectedly were also a huge hit. or just wave the string around the cat and the corgi both like that.

If you live in farm country or know other people with pets, you can grab something with the scent of another animal on it and bring it home for her to smell. Charlie and Herschel spent the better part of three days investigating the wad of horse undercoat I brought home and put in the spare wobbler for them to smell.

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ackermans-angel · 1 month

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Collegeboy!spencer who you meet in your first year of college, even though he’s already been there two years and almost has a second PhD.

Collegeboy!spencer who you sit next to in your psychology class because you were late the first day, and it was the only seat left

Collegeboy!spencer who reads incredibly fast. When the professor gives you a few minutes to read the first pages of the next chapter you’ll be going over, you look over to your right and have to do a double take. The guy next to you drags his finger down the center of each page, it appears to be him just skimming the words, but it is done very seriously and swiftly.

“There’s no way you can actually read that fast” you say, in disbelief.

He looks up at you and says, “Our conscious minds can process 16 bits of information per second. Our unconscious, however, can process 11million”.

There was an awkward pause. You tilt you head at him still confused.

“Yes I- I can actually read that fast”

You giggle at that and smile. “Okay, boy genius” you say and then go back to reading. He was strange and It sounded like he was reading that straight from a book but you believed him.

Collegeboy!spencer who doesn’t know whether you were teasing him or being genuine, but he smiles none the less.

Collegeboy!spencer who’s glasses fall down his nose as he concentrates on the words he’s writing on his laptop. Only for him to push them back up on the bridge of his nose with his long fingers.

Collegeboy!spencer who you start to develop a small crush on as you sneak glances at him for weeks, but it’s silly because you don’t even know his name.

Collegeboy!spencer who thinks you’re just as pretty, but doesn’t think he stands a chance with a girl like you.

Collegeboy!spencer who usually does group assignments alone, but when the professor mentions a partner research paper, you see this as your opportunity to get to know the mysterious smart guy next to you.

“So what you say, boy genius, you wanna work together?” You ask.

He’s caught off guard, and is a little dumbfounded before he replies. “Oh, yeah uh, s-sure. I’d like that”

You find his shyness endearing as you proceed to introduce yourself. “Oh, by the way I’m y/n”

He gives you tiny smile as he pushes some of his hair out of his face. “I’m Spencer, Spencer Reid”