Can you do one were the reader tells guzma their pregnant?
This one is kind of a sequel to my “Baby Fever” fic. Click
to read if you’d like.
“Whatcha doin’ babe?”
“A friend of mine taught me how to crochet with these cute
miniature needles,” you responded, showing him the instruments hanging from a
keychain with a Joltik on it. “I’ve been trying to make some things for you in
my downtime. But you can’t look at all of them until this is done!”
Guzma chuckled. You looked so picturesque sitting there in
his old La-Z-Boy from the Shady House with your little crochet hooks, almost
like a little old lady sitting comfortably by the fire. Your Meowth was at your
feet, alternating between preening herself and a red Wimpod that chirruped with
delight. When she felt her young charge was reasonably clean and let him scurry
away, she began rubbing her milky white fur against you. A soft “meooow” came
forth when she noticed your yarn.
“You can’t have it Cupcake.” You told her, “This is mommy’s
“Nah uh. No yarn for you.”
Guzma went about his business while you alternated between
working on your little project and arguing with Meowth. He was intent on
getting a few things done around the house before departing for work tonight,
but every now and again he devoted some of his time to working on the crib
where the little red Wimpod had made a nest. Both of your Golisopod were in
their Pokeballs, so Guzma took a bit of time to play and cuddle Wimpod until it
snored gently in the crib.
When he looked down at the baby Pokémon a soft sigh escaped
from his throat. As much as he loved to raise bug Pokémon they were no substitute
for the real baby he so desperately wanted. It seemed as though you two would
never conceive. True you’d reluctantly agreed to at least try after getting
your insert taken out of your arm, but after you both found out that it still
took months for the medicine to wear off he’d almost given up hope.
It wasn’t as though your mind hadn’t changed however. You’d
been pretty open to it now that the league had settled down some, and
especially now that Professor Kukui had gotten his sorry shit together and
began scheduling league challenges on an annual basis rather than spur of the
moment as before. You still received a hefty pension for the off time you took,
and in the meantime you alternated between helping Guzma raise Wimpod and
taking care of more things around the house. It left room for you to accept the
idea of a baby, and your love blossomed. But still you hadn’t shown any signs,
the medication was still in your bloodstream, and the doctor was convinced it
wouldn’t happen anytime in the new future.
“Guzma!” you called from the living room, “You can come see
what I made for you now!”
After tucking Wimpod in a nest of blankets he reentered the
living room where you remained on the purple La-Z-Boy. You tossed the yarn
towards your Meowth, letting her play enthusiastically while you reached to the
side for your little crafts bag.
“Ok,” you said, “So the first thing I made you is a hat.”
A miniscule cap made of red yarn with a flower on the crown
was placed into his hand. The capitulum of the flower was a small white button,
while the petals were made of the same yarn as the hat. Hardly big enough to
fit in his large hand, and Guzma couldn’t imagine how in the world such a tiny
thing would even begin to fit on his head.
“Ok…” he said cautiously, “Uh… I love it babe?”
“Hold on!” you insisted, “I’m not done!”
Other little trinkets were put in his hand: A sweater that
might have fitted a Spinarak, little teal yarn shorts, miniscule mittens, all
made of yarn and impossibly small for his large hulking frame. You were about
to hand him whatever you had been working on when he stopped you.
“Babe. I gotta say these are pretty good, but ya suck at
measuring.” He said gravely, “I get the hat kind of, but how the hell am I
gonna get them other things on when ya made ‘em for a damn Joltik!”
“Oh! They’re not for you to wear!” you laughed, “I made them
for you to give to someone else!”
“Who babe? A Caterpie?”
You shook your head, still laughing slightly and reaching into
your pack where you gave him two extra items. He didn’t get the little red and
black booties at first, but looking at the other object made him rethink what
you had said.
“Yeah?” you grinned.
He held up a thin bit of white plastic. What’s this? was
written on his face.
“It’s positive.” You smiled.
“Huh?” he was confused. Utterly unable to grasp what you
were trying to tell him indirectly. You got off the La-Z-Boy and showed it to
him a little more closely.
“See how the two lines right here are pink?” you asked.
“Yeah…” Guzma replied cautiously.
“It’s positive.” You replied with a smile. “Took it this
Sighing, you took the test out of his hand. Taking hold of
his hand in yours, fingers caressing the callouses built up from years of
fighting and pent up aggression, you placed it under your shirt and onto your
stomach where he could feel your warm pudgy flesh. His eyes widened. His throat closed off and he could not find the breath to express what he felt at the moment his skin connected with yours and he understood.
“Get it now?” you asked softly with a gentle smile.
Te-dom: I instinctively know how to take charge of a situation, and organize others to accomplish a task. Often, my attention is focused on producing tangible, real life results measured through objective standards of success (profit, awards, etc). I can effortlessly assess and know how to improve existing systems. Everyone should have a strong work ethic. I do. Facts and proof trumps all.
Te-aux: I am very good at bringing things into reality – either bringing my own ideas into the tangible world, or through organizing and planning in the real world. I prefer to be direct and to the point, and rely on the facts when making decisions. I believe in a strong work ethic. Hard work beats slipshod talent any day of the week. Stick to it.
Te-tert: I want to make money doing what I love, but staying interested in what I am doing is more important to me. I am good at planning and assigning tasks to others, in order to complete projects. When arguing, I stick to the facts.
Te-inferior: I would like to be organized but find it difficult. It’s tiring to try and figure out how to turn my ideas and plans into tangible reality. I would like to be successful but not at the cost of my art. I get angry and defensive if someone accuses me of not knowing what I am doing.
Ti-dom: I know how things work, and enjoy solving problems. Logical consistency means a great deal to me. I am (often) good with systems and mathematics.
Ti-aux: I want things to make logical sense, and often use that to get what I want. I am quite good at making money at the spur of the moment through winging it, but not always enthusiastic about the details.
Ti-tert: I want to know why people make the decisions they do, and how things work. I am very interested in analyzing my own dislikes, likes, interests, feelings, behaviors, and motivations. I want to be rational.
Ti-inferior: I want to be rational, but find it hard to be objective about people. I wish I were better at not letting my emotions get involved. I sometimes lash out when someone challenges me on logical terms.
The car ride to your home town of Mount Vernon was the quietest Alexander had ever been. His hands fidgeted on the steering wheel.
“Thank you for agreeing to do this.” Alexander said for the fifth time during the car ride. You smiled in response.
“Of course. Besides. I haven’t been back home in ages. I’m excited to see all of our old high school friends. But first let’s go ahead and cover our bases. What did you tell them about your fake girlfriend? How do I need to act?” You asked.
Alex cheeks turned a little bit red.
“Trust me. You won’t have to do much pretending. I mean, well, um I was pretty generic.” He said, fidgeting even more.
The ever eloquent Alexander Hamilton was stammering? He was definitely hiding something. Or maybe he felt bad about lying to Martha. Suddenly you realized, you would have to lie to Martha.
“Alex. You realize I’m going to have to lie to your family. I love your family. I don’t know if I can do that. Martha is so sweet and George is so strict when he wants to be. Is this even believable? We were at each throats throughout most of high school…” You said.
“Y/N. Calm down. It will be fine.” Alex said, as he passed through the tall wrought iron gates and pulled into the driveway. The Washington estate was as grand as ever with its sprawling green lawn and the huge grand two story house.
Moments after Alex parked, Martha came running down out of the house.
“Alexander!” She cried.
Alex hopped out of the car and ran to meet her. He was immediately smothered in hugs and kisses.
Smiling at the warm scene, you went to the trunk and began unloading the luggage. There wasn’t much, but you just wanted to stay out of sight for a while.
“Now, where is this girl of yours that I’ve been hearing about for months?” Martha asked.
“Yes. Where is she?” A new voice with a French accent asked, skeptically. You peeked around the corner of the car and sure enough you glimpsed long legs and a poof of curls in a tight ponytail. Lafayette. Alex’s foster brother.
“Oh my goodness. I’ve left her to deal with the luggage. How unchivalrous of me.” Alex said, making his way back towards you.
“Alex. I taught you better than that. Meet us inside.” Martha said.
“With your amour.” Lafayette drawled sarcastically.
Alex came over and grabbed the bags from you, shutting the trunk door. You each slung your duffle bags onto your backs, freeing your hands. As you climbed the stairs to the door, Alex grabbed your hand. You felt a spark. You tried to ignore it.
The house was exactly the same as you remembered it. You set your bags down. Alex slid his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him.
“Martha. I know you’ve met her before, but this time I am proud to introduce you to Y/N as my girlfriend.” Alex said, beaming. He looked so genuinely proud and happy. Maybe he genuinely did like you. At least a little bit.
Martha squealed. Lafayette smirked.
“Yes! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! The first time you came home complaint about her and talking about her non stop and when you guys would work on projects and be arguing like cats and dogs, I just knew that one day you’d end up together. Come here darling,” Martha said, pulling you in for a tight hug.
“I am so happy to see you again and I am ecstatic that you are together. Welcome to the family dear.” She said.
You felt a stab of guilt, just as you knew you would. Trying to look anywhere else, your eyes landed on Lafayette. He was leaning up against the wall, smirking, and staring at Alexander. Alex was squirming under Lafayette’s stare. They almost seemed to be having a silent conversation where Lafayette was gloating.
“Okay well go up to your rooms and get settled in. Dinner will be in 15 minutes Martha said. Alex nodded. You reached for your bag but Alex picked it up.
"I’ve got it honey.” He said, leaning over, giving you a kiss. It was meant to be a quick peck, but it lingered. The kiss sent a jolt down your spine. Alex leaned in for another quick kiss, before breaking away and heading upstairs. You followed him. __________________
3 hours into this and your stomach and your mind and your heart were twisted into knots. Alex played his part perfectly.
He complimented you, flirted with you, almost always touching you, but in romantic ways. Hand on your elbow or waist. Most of all were the kisses. Alex was a kisser and unafraid of PDA. Anytime there was an opportunity, anything that could be interpreted as an opportunity, to kiss you, he took it. Sometimes they were the quick pecks that sent jolts down your spine. Other times, they were passionate and savoring and filled with longing that melted you.
All of the romance had your heart dancing to the beat of a thousand drums. A part of you loved it. Cherished it. Savored it. It was everything that you’d wanted for so long.
Then there was the deception. All throughout dinner, you smiled through your guilt as Alex made up stories about your first date and your first kiss and your romantic lives together. All lies. When you’d come down for dinner, George was there. He smiled when he saw you, shook your hand, and welcomed you to the family.
“Congrats on getting this one son. She is still way out of your league. Y/N. Congrats on having what it takes to put up with him.” George joked, as everyone sat down. Alex pulled you closer to him. The deception twisted your stomach in knots of guilt.
Then there was Lafayette. His smirks and knowing glances plagued you all throughout dinner. He snorted during half of Alex’s stories. You were pretty sure that he knew. He knew that you were faking. He seemed to have known since the minute you walked in the door. “Okay guys, well, George and I are turning in for the night. You have fun with your friends.” Martha said, exiting the kitchen as you guys finished cleaning up. “Wait, what?” Alex said. Lafayette smiled smugly. “I invited our friends over for movie night, just like old times. A reunion of our- how you say- squad?” Lafayette said. “Oh yay!” you squealed, excited to see your friends again. “Yeah, how fun.” Alex said, unconvincingly, looking worried. You heard knocking on the door and excitedly ran up there, throwing it open. “Y/N!” she squealed. “Eliza!” you responded, hugging her tightly. “The Schuyler sisters.” Alex sighed happily, as Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy entered the house. “I can’t believe you’re really here!” Peggy said, hugging you. “You haven’t visited in forever.” Angelica said. “I know. I know. I’m sorry about that. I just haven’t gotten the chance.” You said. “She came down with Alex. Her ‘boyfriend’.” Lafayette said. The girls froze in shock for a few seconds. Alex smiled proudly and slid his arm around your waist. Suddenly, you remembered the part that you were supposed to be playing. You forced a smile on your face and nodded. “Yep. Me and Alex are dating.” “How wonderful?! I am so happy for you guys.” Peggy squealed, clapping. Eliza smiled warily and nodded. Angelica looked like she wasn’t buying any of it. She glared at Alexander. “Y/N, we’re going to have a talk about this later.” She said. There was another knock on the door. “Let’s get out of here.” Angelica said, dragging you to the movie room. “HEEEY!” You heard the shouts and raucous laughs as John and Hercules entered the house.
“We’re doing a Disney movie marathon,” Peggy announced, pulling out Mulan and putting into the DVD player. The boys joined you in the movie room. Alex joined you in the small armchair, pulling you closer to him. You smiled, cuddling into his warmth. As the movie began, quite a few people began singing along. For a few moments, everything felt perfect. You were surrounded by your friends, everyone was laughing and having fun, and you were in Alexander’s arms. He periodically kissed your hair and tickled your sides. You inhaled his scent and soaked up his warmth. Everything just felt so right. The credits rolled at the end of the movie, snapping you out of your daze. “Okay. We choose the next one! Get out girls.” Hercules said. “Whatever. We need more food anyway, what with your bottomless stomachs.” Angelica shot back, leaving the room. You and the other girls filed out behind her. Eliza and Peggy both excused themselves to go do something else, leaving you and Angelica in the kitchen. “Spill.” She said, turning to you. “What do you mean?” you asked. “You and Alex. I can tell something’s up. You’re an awful liar. It seemed like you were lying earlier when you said you and Alex were dating, but you were cuddling like you were actually dating and I know you’ve had the hots for Alex for years…So, what’s going on?” she asked. “Okay,” you sighed in defeat. “Martha kept bugging Alex about getting a girlfriend. Alex lied and said that he had a girlfriend. Martha asked him to bring her down for spring break, so he asked me to be his fake girlfriend.” “Oh sweetie. Does Alex know how you really feel? And how do you feel about all of this?” she asked. “No. He doesn’t. I feel guilty, but I love it. It’s like wanting to taste a food, that you know you shouldn’t eat, but getting a taste and loving it. It tastes even better than you imagined. That’s what it’s like fake dating Alex.” You said. “Sweetie. That’s not a taste. That’s scraps. You deserve so much more than scraps. And I don’t know if Alexander would ever be able to give you that. He doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of serious relationships.” Angelica said. You knew that she was referring to what had happened with Eliza back in high school. She and Alex had dated for a long time. They had a really serious relationship. Later, they learned that he’d been cheating on her with Maria Reynolds for an entire school year, when he published it in the school newspaper. Angelica had been furious. Eliza had been heartbroken. It had taken years before that wound in the friendship had healed. Even then, it had never quite been the same. As demonstrated at times like now. “Angie, maybe he’s changed. I think he has. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone deserves that.” You said. “You always see the best in people. Sometimes I wonder if you’re too nice. For your sake, I hope you’re right.” Beep! Beep! Beep! “Popcorn’s ready!” Peggy squealed, running into the room, and yanking open he microwave. While the Schuyler sisters were getting the food ready, you decided to go on up, taking some time to think. “Keep it down guys!” Alex said. You stopped outside the door, when you heard whispering. That was suspicious. The boys were always loud. Unless they had something to hide. “Are you sure about this?” “I didn’t think you could actually do it.” “What more proof do you need?” Alex’s voice. You felt a seed of dread curl in your stomach. Suddenly, you didn’t want to hear the rest of the conversation. “Hey guys.” You announced loudly, entering the room. None of the guys would look you in the eye, confirming your suspicions. They’d been talking about you. Alex, reached out to pull you back into the chair with him, but you acted like you didn’t see him, opting instead to sit on the couch between John and Lafayette. In one moment, you had decided that you no longer wanted to live in a fantasy of lies, but wanted the truth. Lafayette seemed like a pretty good place to start.
We’re definitely going to be kicking her [Felicity] off with a new organization and it’s going to take her to some pretty interesting places and also reconnect her with pieces of her past. We’re really excited about this new path for her.
Makorra AU where Mako and Korra are in University and they are taking an art class as an elective for their majors/programs or whatever they're called. They don't know each other but, of course, Mako the giant dork is taking it seriously (he secretly loves drawing) and is focusing hard on a project. Korra is just taking it because she needs the elective. She trips and paint goes flying on Mako's project and arguing ensues, but they end up in a relationship later on somehow because MAKORRA. =)
staticwaffles - THIS AU IS PERFECT!!! I hope you like this. Also, I AM A BIG FAN! :] :] :]
Title: Art Class (College AU 01)
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry–”
There’s a loud sigh and she gets the feeling that he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose if his fingers weren’t smothered in paint. "No, it’s…“ He sighs again, deeply this time and his shoulders slouch as he glances at his splattered work, "It’s fine.”
Korra shrugs her shoulders and offers, “If it makes you feel any better, I think it looks better.”
“Seriously? I painted each of those lines with precision–I can’t even make out the brush strokes under all this. It’s ruined.”
“Geez. Mako, right? Isn’t this your elective? I don’t think your engineering degree will suffer because of a little spilled paint.”
“Who the heck uses neon blue paint anyway? Neon blue.”
Whats wrong with asking about RWBY? It's not wrong to maybe not care as much as others about Monty, but being concerned about his child is still caring.
here’s what rwby is, at the end of the day: a project. a beloved, important project, but not a “child”. not human. a project.
here’s an abridged list of who’s actually real–alive, breathing, and feeling: monty’s wife sheena, monty’s dad, and his siblings. his friends and co-workers, in and outside of roosterteeth.
here’s another list of who’s real: monty.
monty oum is a human being, and a man is not a collection of his projects. a man is so much more than what he’s done and accomplished. rwby is a large part of monty’s life and dream, but monty is more than rwby.
and those people in the list I told you just now? they care more about monty. who’s real. so much more than they care about rwby.
I’m not asking you to cry yourself to sleep every night at his death. but if you care about an unfeeling, non-human object to the point of personifying it by referring to it as a ‘child’, but not caring about the man behind it and the wishes of the very real people who are closest to monty, I am questioning your fucking priorities.
This isn’t so much a review as it is an address to a particular comment I’ve seen often come up among those who oh so desperately want to undo the project, to argue that the links made within NAB are irrelevant, and more generally the statements that are made whenever the politics of the lesswrong community are attacked. Whenever Yudkowsky’s politics are ‘conservative’ or not is argued over and over and over again in the horrid way characteristic of a group with a strong belief in the powers of language, and this argument has come up yet again in the conversation about NAB, that Sandifer’s choice to talk about Yudkowsky alongside Moldburg and Nick Land (two massive neoreactionaries) is a miscategorization to the degree that Sandier shouldn’t finish the book, that the book is communist propaganda, whatever.
I’m just going to provide my reading of the situation, as ya know, an actual communist. Because I’m of the opinion that while Yudkowsky may not be a ‘conservative’, his work definitely fits within the reactionary project, and that this key element explains a large degree of the way the lesswrong/rationalist community leans.
To sum up the key element; the major part of Yudkowsky’s project is a desire to work towards the creation of a beneficent AI who we can then give the resources to to run the world. To this end he has created a pair of think tanks, has written innumerable papers and thinkpieces, etc. Now, this is hard to take seriously but if we do take it seriously then this is merely a new coat of paint over a desire that is over two hundred years old.
You see, it’s easy to forget that feudalism (stay with me now) wasn’t just ‘having a king’, that the feudal system was a whole system wherein the whole hierarchy was justified in generally divine terms. And while the literary origin of the divine right of kings was in Bodin, Bodin’s work actually is a degradation of the concept; the fact that it needed to be expressed in the 16th century showed just how much it was being questioned. Because, before this period, while the King was not absolute the hierarchy he remained atop of was, it’s an amazing statement that no matter how many aristocratic intrigues and revolts occurred before the 17th century, not a single one of these revolts sought to end the whole edifice of monarchy. I can go on about this separately but a full discussion of it would take quite a bit of time and I’m not specifically talking about this.
But the thing about the divine right of monarchs is that in the end it is divine. Many who sought to bring back monarchs seek to merely turn the clock back to 1788, but some of the more intelligent reactionaries who wrote in the generation following the French Revolution noted that you would have to turn it back even further, that the beginnings of secular thought was the beginning of the demise of a fully justified monarchy. Because if God is not there in the foreground, justifying the difference between King and noble and noble and peasant, then the King is just some guy, your local lord is just some guy, and what the fuck justifies their existence over you?
This became worse and worse over the course of the 17th and 18th centuries, with ever more and ever more complicated justifying measures appearing–for instance, a focus on the innate power of the blood which became a motif among reactionaries for centuries to come. But in the end these measures just didn’t cut it, and after the French Revolution it became harder and harder to justify Monarchy, or any sort of Autocracy, on divine or secular grounds.
I would argue that the reactionary project ever since the French Revolution is the search for a newly justified King, a King who could reestablish the hierarchy of old. But they come up on an issue, without the totalizing religious beliefs of old your hierarchy is always going to comprise of regular people, and unless you engage in nonsensical magical thinking (a trait actually increasingly common now even in mainstream works but constantly under challenge), you’re going to have to find another way.
And so, at the end of this line of thinking, we find Yudkowsky. How is it that neoreactionaries found such a home in the bosom of rationalism? Because they were, in the end, seeking the same thing. Moldbug declaring that he is, in the end, searching for a king is not a more radical view compared to Yudkowsky’s, only a more honest one. It takes away the varnish of technoutopianism of a beneficent and omnipotent AI and says that in the end a person will do. Because in the end a King is a King, regardless of how many philosophy classes he’s taken and, indeed, whether he is human or not. The two exist on the same plane within the same project: the AI Philosopher King is, to the Lesswrongers, ideal, but Moldbug says that he’d settle for Steve Jobs. It’s the same shit, the same longing for a newly justified King.
A Playdate with an Industrial Ghost - Eric James Lawler
Ball State University (Andrea Swartz)
This is a proposal for an industrial history museum for the city of Muncie focusing on its past as a
regional center for manufacturing, and its eventual descent into the infamous
‘rust belt’ club. This project imagines possible new spaces that emerge
from the interactions between already existing forms or ideas. It turns the
existing context into a building block set of forms, using them to create new
Several parts of the brain deal with facial perception
pattern recognition. They have been instrumental in our evolutionary
survival in helping us identify friends or foes. We recognize
emotion and intention instantly from the vaguest impressions, to such a
large extent that it often applies to non-humans as well.
Faces emerge in toasters, plugs, cars, windows, food, and clouds. The
minimalist smiley face is merely three shapes. Architecturally, this is exciting because when personify non-human things. We also include the
attributes of character and personality, and these objects come alive within
our imaginations. Architecture would be much more
exciting if we saw it as something to interact with, like a character in a
story, rather than a monolithic object in a field glorifying some soon-to-be
obsolescent technology or some distant, detached and ambiguous formal process. ‘A Playdate with an Industrial Ghost’ aims to
be both a fun character in a narrative and a formal exploration of spacial
project takes contextual typologies and arranges them in forms similar to
those a child would make with a bunch of foam blocks. It appropriates the present
for the creation of a new, interesting yet-to-be. Architecture could continue infinitely with the possibilities that come from
the rearrangments of present form; it wouldn't have to design any new
ingredients or parts. But this isn't a future this project is arguing
for. It focuses on the production of questions rather than claim a particular
direction is the right one. It encourages discussion and makes no demands. This
project is interested in unrecognizable form made up of recognizable
parts. The shapes that create the project are regular industrial typologies
readily found in cities across the country, but in this circumstance they
become an unrecognizable hulk. Regular parts, crazier wholes.
Hey gang! I hope you don’t mind me dusting this old fic off to repost. I wrote The Fireworks a year ago, with a 4th of July theme. Made some fresh artwork for it below. Hope you’ll enjoy/share the fluffy and UST. If you know it already, apologies for the rerun.
In the course of her duties as Team Arrow’s resident hacker, Felicity Smoak did not imagine she would ever have break into a public library. Except that was precisely what she had…just…done. With couple of clean clicks the digital lock, which was more modern than the old fashioned colonial building it was attached to, signaled it had succumbed. Felicity upturned her deep pink lips along with the handle and looked for approval from her partner in crime.
All Oliver Queen offered her was a cursory nod, liked he’d just watched her open a refrigerator door. It was becoming harder to impress him now. He had witnessed her breeching Federal databases while eating a yogurt, barefoot. Felicity wondered if perhaps she needed to make it look a little harder in the future, as Oliver pushed the secluded side-door open and led them into a dark lobby.
It was after 7 pm. Denbyville was a traditional small town that slept between Starling City and Central City. Right now it was festooned in red, white and blue banners and slightly more busy than usual with tourists in town to enjoy an “Old Fashioned American” Fourth of July celebration. There had been a parade that morning, followed by a community picnic in the afternoon, and soon after dark everyone with a pulse would be directing their gaze upwards for the annual fireworks display.