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hawthornewhisperer · 5 months

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A thing I love about living in Minnesota is we're in the midst of a several year long battle over whether or not people should be allowed to use yellow mustard seeds in their crop art entries to the state fair.

#there is apparently a very long rule book #that says all seeds must be from crops currently grown in MN #there is some debate over whether anyone is actually growing yellow mustard right now #but last week some org declared that people use it as a cover crop #so maybe it'll be allowed #but meanwhile people made PROTEST ART out of SEEDS #I love this state full of dorks

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juuuuuuj · 4 months

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oughguhgugoughlguh hi

wow I’m back from my hiatus (it ended weeks ago I was just avoiding you guys specifically for longer)

have an art dump you ethereal creatures

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avenananana · 5 days

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my new blog appearance colours look like mustard

anyways, finally had some time to draw a proper profile pic

and yeah, I cropped it and saved it by accident and now I don't have the full art fuck me

it's an oc of mine, because I have the entire universe project hidden deep in my drawer since very long time and probably I'll never show it to the world bye

#oc #art #it's not astarion this time sorry

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karmic-vibes · 1 year

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If I Can Dream

21 - Deep in my Heart, There’s a Trembling Question

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr / lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: bullying, name calling, misgendering/incorrect use of pronouns

Year: 1995

“Papa, daddy, can I help you garden?” Bobby asked.

“Of course, sweetie, why don’t you help me pick some weeds,” Eddie said.

He explained to her what the weeds looked like and how to properly pull them up from the ground. He sent her over to the edge of the fence to pick up some where there were no flowers, so she wouldn’t accidentally pull up any of Steve’s perennials.

Steve went back to watering the lawn as Eddie laid some mulch near the deck. Bobby was singing and humming to herself as she pulled up the weeds and its surrounding grass. As she worked her way down the fence, the neighbor’s kids, and their friends, stormed into the backyard. Bobby politely waved hello before returning to the yard work.

As she continued plucking up blades of grass, she heard the kids taunting her. She pouted and tried ignoring them the best she could, but their torments only got louder and louder as they approached the fence.

“What’re you doing?” The neighbor boy asked.

“Gardening,” Bobby smiled.

“No, you’re just pulling grass.”

“No, my daddy and papa said I’m pulling weeds.”

“Dad and papa? You mean dad and mama?”

“No… daddy and papa…” She pointed to her fathers by the deck.

“Where’s your mom?”

“Mom? I don’t have a mom.”

“Everyone has a mom.”

“I don’t…”

“Freak!” One laughed.

“I’m not a freak,” she teared up.

“Cry baby!” Another taunted.

“Go cry to your mommy, weirdo!”

“I don’t have a mommy,” Bobby sniffed. “I have a daddy and a papa…”

“So you have two homos as parents,” one laughed. “Go cry to your homos.”

Not knowing what the boy’s words meant, Bobby wiped her runny nose on her mustard yellow sweater, and ran over to Eddie. She tapped him on the shoulder to pull his attention away from the flower beds.

“Hey, bug, what’s up? You all done with the weeds?”

“Papa,” she sniffed.

“Oh, my goodness, you’re crying.” He brushed the excess dirt off his hands before pulling Bobby into a tight hug. “What’s wrong? What happened? You bump your knee again?”

“No…” She wiped a tear off her cheek as Eddie pinched her nose go collect all the excess snot (wiping it into the lawn).

“Then what happened?” He looked at his sad daughter, pushing her hair behind her ears as she cried.

“Mrs. Smith’s son–”

“Eric?”

“Mhmm, Eric was calling me names and told me to go cry to my mommy, but I told him I didn’t have a mommy, then he called you and daddy something, and he said I wasn’t doing the weeds right, and–” She ran on in one breath.

“Whoa, Bobbs, slow down,” Eddie said. “First of all, you don’t need a mommy, okay? You have two loving daddies and that’s what matters, okay? Second, ignore them when they call daddy and I names, okay? It’s not important and it doesn’t hurt us, so it shouldn’t hurt you. They’re just being mean.”

“Yeah, but–”

“Bee–”

“Papa!” she interrupted. “They called you names!”

“Alright, I tried being nice about this. You want revenge? Full blown horror movie style?” She eagerly nodded. “Let’s go. Don’t tell dad.”

The two snuck into the house as Steve continued to work his way throughout the lawn. Eddie dug through their stowed away Halloween decorations for something to scare the neighborhood kids.

“Clean your face off, bug,” Eddie muttered as he grabbed a damp washcloth. He properly cleaned her face before sliding on a Jason Voorhies mask. “Give ‘em hell, kiddo.”

Eddie made his way to the backyard and watched Bobby chase after Eric and his friends. Steve’s attention was finally torn from the yard work when he heard all the children screaming. He saw his little one chasing several boys with a fake machete and a serial killer mask.

“Edward!” Steve yelled as he stormed the deck.

“Yes, Steven?”

“Are you responsible for that?”

“Possibly.”

“Christ,” he sighed.

“I’m not stopping it.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

They two let Bobby run around a bit longer before Mrs. Smith scolded Eddie and Steve for letting their child do such a thing. The two snickered to each other before calling Bobby back over to the yard.

“Are you two really laughing? She traumatized my son!” Mrs. Smith yelled.

“Oh, shut it, your son started it,” Eddie scoffed. “Next time, raise your son to not call our daughter names. Alright?”

“Eric, is that true? Were you calling Bobby names?”

“No,” he lied.

“My daughter is a tough girl who doesn’t cry at much. Whatever your son said really upset her,” Eddie said.

“And you called my daddies names!” Bobby added.

“And you called us names,” Eddie reiterated.

“Eric, in the house, now!” Her son cowered before dragging his feet inside. “Sorry for disturbing you all. Just, next time, Bobby, please don’t charge my son with a fake knife, okay?” She nodded in response. “Thank you, dear.”

A couple weeks went by and Eric hadn’t bothered Bobby since—or so the boys had thought. One afternoon, as the two were getting ready to head out and pick her up from school, the home phone rang. Eddie, being in the middle of writing a song, didn’t even hear it, so Steve wandered off to the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello?” Steve answered.

“Hi, may I speak with either Steve or Eddie Harrington?”

“This is Steve, how can I help you?”

“I’m principal Gibbons, I’m calling to inform you of an incident that occurred earlier today.”

“An incident? Is Bobby okay?”

“Yes, Bobby is fine, Mr. Harrington. It’s just…” Principal Gibbons sighed. “Bobby has been displaying some violent behaviors lately.”

“I’m sorry, what? That doesn’t sound like my little girl.” Steve shook his head in disbelief.

“Mr. Harrington–”

“Please, call me Steve—Mr. Harrington is my father, and I’m trying very hard to be nothing like him.”

“Apologies, Steve. Anyways, she got into a fight earlier today.”

“She what‽” he yelled.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie called.

“Bobby just got in a fight at school.”

“Did she win?”

“Ed–”

“Did she win? It’s a simple question, Steve.”

“I’m not asking if she won! Christ, forgive my spouse.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll be right down.” Steve hung up the phone and threw his jacket on. “Ed, come on.”

“We’re going now?”

“Yes, Edward, we are. Our daughter got into a fight, lord knows if she’s hurt! We need to go, now!”

Steve dragged Eddie to the car and sped off to Bobby’s school. They swung into the parking lot and ran in to meet with the principal. They found Bobby sitting outside the office, glancing at the floor, kicking her feet back and forth.

“Bobbs, what happened?” Steve asked, kneeling to meet her gaze.

“Did you win?” Eddie asked.

“Not the time!” Steve grit his teeth. “Bobby, I thought we raised you better than this. What happened?”

“Eric…” she whimpered. “He called me names again, then called you guys names, and then he said that papa is actually my mommy and I got mad and hit him…” She rushed out in a single breath, as she often did when she was anxious. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

Steve sighed in defeat as he pulled his daughter in for a hug. He gently rubbed her back as he heard Bobby holding in tears, sniffing back her emotions.

“You can cry, Bobbs, it’s okay,” Steve whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm…”

“He didn’t hit you back or pull your hair or anything, right?”

“No, daddy.”

“So you won!” Eddie threw his arms up in celebration.

“Yeah,” She giggled, wiping her eyes.

“We’ll talk to Mrs. Smith—Eric can’t keep doing this to you.”

“Harringtons,” Principal Gibbons called.

“Come on.”

Steve extended his hand to Bobby as the family walked into the office. Everyone got settled in the office as the principal prepped the paperwork.

“So, Mrs. Smith is threatening to press charges.”

“Whoa, what? No, absolutely not. Eric was the instigator here. Bobby was only standing up for herself and her family.”

“That’s not what Mrs. Smith and her son said.”

“I trust my daughter first and foremost. It wouldn’t be the first time Eric has started something like this, either. The Smith’s are our neighbors and Eric has a history of taunting Bobby. I can’t say I blame her for finally snapping.”

“Okay, Bobby, what did Eric say that started the fight?”

“He called me a ‘freak of nature’, said I have ‘homos for parents’, and that my papa is actually my mommy…”

“Eddie, Steve… we brought this concern up to you two when you were enrolling her.”

“But why should our lives have to impact hers? Yes, I’m a trans man and yeah, we’re two guys that are married, but that shouldn’t affect Bobby’s life. Especially her education. This is supposed to be a place of acceptance and learning, but instead you’re turning it into a place where people can openly bully her and then have her get punished for sticking up for herself. It’s not fair, Gibbons,” Eddie sneered. “People can call my husband and I all the names they want, but the second they bring Bobby into it, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“Mrs. Harrington–”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Eddie, please,” Steve urged.

“Stay out of this, Steve. Gibbons, we love our daughter and we value her safety and well being more than anything in the world. Her mental health falls into that, understand? She is a good, sweet kid who doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment. I will be damned if she stays at a school where the staff openly allow her to be bullied, and one where I’m openly misgendered.”

“Eddie, it was an honest mistake,” Gibbons backtracked.

“Save it, alright? Let’s go.”

Eddie swung Bobby’s backpack over his shoulder and led her out of the room. By the time he was out the front door, Steve stood up and leaned over Principal Gibbon’s desk.

“With all due respect, Miranda, you don’t get to treat my family like this. Understand? Bobby is the sweetest child I have ever met—Eddie and I work hard to be sure of it. She would never hurt someone else without good reason. Hell, this is the first time she’s ever hurt anyone at all. She’s just a little girl who loves her family, especially her papa. She would follow him to the ends of the earth, and I couldn’t be more proud. I love my family and I’m proud of who we all are. How dare you think you can treat us like this.” Steve straightened himself out before heading to the door. “Bobby will be withdrawn as soon as we find a replacement school. One that accepts us, Gibbons. And if you even think about disciplining my daughter and not Carol’s hellion, then you’re going to have a much bigger problem on your hands. Understood?” She nodded and gulped back any response. “Good.”

Steve slammed the door and joined his family at their car. He ran his hand up and down Eddie’s back as he buckled Bobby into her car seat. He leaned over, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“We’re proud of you, bug,” he smiled.

“Yeah, really proud,” Eddie added. “What you did was super brave. I know I couldn’t’ve done what you did. Hell, I couldn’t even tell people I was a man until I was nineteen.”

“Wait, what?” Bobby asked.

“What’s up?” Eddie straightened out her jacket and rested against the door.

“You had to tell people you were a man? Do I have to tell people I’m a girl?”

“What do you mean, honey?”

“Do we have to tell people what we are?”

“Oh… I think I know what she’s getting at,” Steve said. “Bug… okay, I’ll… we’ll… let’s talk when we get home.”

Steve rushed the family home and ushered Bobby into the living room, where he sat her between himself and Eddie.

“So, bug,” Steve started. “Papa is your papa, but, at one point in his life, he wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Bobby, I wasn’t always a papa,” Eddie said. He looked to Steve and took a deep sigh. “I used to, technically, be a mommy.”

“How? You’re a boy.”

“You’re right, I am, but I was born a girl, and legally, I still technically am—it’s how daddy and I were able to get married. My name wasn’t always Eddie, sweetheart. I was born as Eden… not Eddie.”

“So, does that mean I’ll become a boy too?”

“Not necessarily,” Eddie chuckled. “I was always a boy, but I was stuck in a girl’s body. Now, through the help of some very nice doctors, and daddy’s support, I’m a boy in a boy’s body.”

“Oh… okay.”

“I’m still papa, and I always will be, but the whole reason you got here was because I was born as a mommy. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, papa, I do.”

“Okay… just know, there’s nothing wrong with who I am, and there’s nothing wrong with daddy and I loving each other. We’re all born as who we are and we can’t change that.”

“And at the end of the day,” Steve added, “we will always love each other, and we’ll always love you. Okay? We’re a little different than most families, but we’re happy and love one another… and that’s all that matters.”

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witch-undercover-agency · 8 months

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Origin: Greek Mythology

Symbol: The Ram

Quality: Cardinal

Element: Fire

Colour: Red, Blood Red, Midnight Black, Armor Silver

Metal: Iron, Steel, Bronze, Brass, Copper, Silver, Gold, Lead, Mercury

Crystal: Bloodstone, Red Jasper, Carnelian, Red Agate, Hematite, Black Obsidian, Pyrite, Garnet, Ruby, Red Tiger's Eye, Red Calcite, Mahogany Obsidian, Red Aventurine, Fire Agate

Fruits: Cherries, pomegranates, strawberries, raspberries, red apples, watermelon, passionfruit, dragonfruit, cranberries, guava, tomato, fig, plum, apricot, red currants, currants

Vegetables: Red bell peppers, chili peppers, beets, radishes, tomatoes, carrots, red cabbage, red onions, red potatoes, red kale, red Swiss chard, red lettuce, red spinach, red mustard greens, red beans

Flower: Tulip, poppy, red rose, hollyhock, anemone, amaryllis, geranium, carnation, sweet pea, marigold, hibiscus, dahlia, daisy, gladiolus, ranunculus, red camellia

Herb: Basil, cayenne pepper, ginger, garlic, nettle, thistle, coriander, lemongrass, mustard, pink peppercorn, wormwood, vervain, calendula, rue, dragon's blood resin

Animal: Ram, wolf, hawk, eagle, shark, badger, lynx, vulture, crocodile, warthog, scorpion, bull, cobra, panther, hyena

Number: 1

Day: Tuesday

Season: Spring

Time of day: Sunrise

Anatomy: Head, face, eyes, muscles

Key word: Courage

Key phrase: "I am a warrior of the spirit."

Moon phase: Full Moon

Musical note: D

Tarot: The Emperor

Tool: Spear

Spell type: Protection

Offerings:Red wine or blood-red wine to symbolize vitality and bravery.

Freshly sharpened weapons or replicas as a symbol of warfare.

Spicy foods, as Ares was associated with the heat of battle.

Olive oil, a symbol of peace and victory.

Red roses or other red flowers to represent passion and strength.

Frankincense incense to purify and honor the deity.

Ares figurines or statues for his representation.

Honey, as it was believed to be an offering to appease the gods.

Pomegranates, a symbol of fertility and life force.

Bay leaves, which were associated with victory in ancient Greece.

Offerings of meat, such as lamb or goat, to represent strength.

Myrrh resin, often used in ancient rituals and associated with deities.

Red candles to invoke the fiery aspect of Ares.

A spearhead or other warrior-related artifacts.

A prayer or poem expressing your admiration and respect for Ares.

Signs:A sudden surge of courage or confidence when facing challenges.

Dreams or visions of battle or warlike scenes.

Finding or receiving gifts related to warfare, such as a weapon or armor.

Seeing red objects or colors more frequently, as red is often associated with Ares.

Feeling a strong connection to historical or mythological warriors and heroes.

Increased interest in martial arts, combat sports, or military history.

Hearing or encountering stories, songs, or poems related to war and valor.

A feeling of inner strength and determination during tough times.

Noticing signs of conflict resolution or justice happening around you.

Repeated encounters with symbols of Ares, such as his name or imagery.

Birds of prey, like hawks or eagles, appearing more frequently in your vicinity.

Feeling a call to stand up for a just cause or protect those in need.

A strong desire to learn about ancient Greek culture and mythology.

A sense of honor and duty becoming more prominent in your life.

Meeting individuals who share a similar interest in Ares or warrior-like qualities.

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afreakingdork · 13 days

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Weak Spot - Chapter 64

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

The dreamy scene in this week's chapter art is by @mrabubu

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay

Synopsis: A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

I’m dedicating this chapter to Drakkensdatter who gave me quite the insight which I got to employ here! I hope you like it!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: slit, cunt, vagina, clit, pregnancy thoughts to the millionth degree in every dang version you can think of, breast, boob, cervix, womb, uterus, tubes, eggs, what can I say you finally get peed on, and reader gets called mother (joking) then for real?

The beginning of July found you making sandwiches. Almost a week had passed since the Hamatos’ had finally departed and you and Donnie were still devouring time together. Nearly inseparable, there wasn’t much left before you returned to work the next day. A little overdue, but something you imagined couldn’t have been helped since there was no way you could have left Donnie alone with the other turtles, you had a meeting scheduled with the higher ups.

You’d already fielded both Donnie and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. from interfering.

You knew what was going to happen. It was the same thing that happened to Tami when she was diagnosed with cancer. She was demoted to an ancillary position where her repeated absences wouldn’t hurt the company workload. She could keep her health insurance in full. She’d just have to take a pay cut. All things you were ready to account for and only minorly irritated as you had been on the road to a nice increase before your many ‘illnesses,’ you’d resigned yourself.

You could only hope this would stop happening and you’d be returned to your regular position in no time.

Grabbing toast, you maneuvered around your boyfriend where he was comically bent at the hips. It was a prime watching position where his arms were folded on the counter and his head was tucked down in them. You jostled him affectionately with a little bump as you laid out two plates. “Still marveling at my sandwich skills?”

He lifted his mouth from his sleeve only long enough to speak. “None have compared to that days.”

“Thanks.” You gave him a dry look and saw your bread was the same.

“Rarity enhances importance.” There was the slightest sway of his shoulders that said his tail was making lazy rounds. “I am indulging in my mate as of current.”

You made a big move of smooching his forehead. “Let’s indulge in that new mustard too then.”

He gave an affectionate bow of his head.

You turned to grab the cute jar and returned with a knife. Slathering a careful amount on, you assembled the ingredients. You then pressed the breads together and with a quick guillotine, cut them in half for the sake of it. “What do you want to watch while we eat?”

For a moment, Donnie didn’t respond and you figured he was thinking.

Turning a plate to admire your handiwork, you felt time linger for too long and turned to check what was holding him up. You expected a little reverence as he’d been pouring it on thick. What you didn’t expect was to find him vacantly staring. Not all there, he was both looking at and through you.

The familiarity of the gaze haunted you.

You recognized that look.

It had been seared into your brain.

You knew what it proceeded.

Not just your blood pressure, but your entire center of gravity plummeted and you had to lean further into the counter.

“Oh no…” You mouthed in horror.

Donnie watched on with an unfocused gaze.

“No. No, no!” You pushed the plates away to grab and shake him.

He snapped out of his stupor and blinked wide. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“You’re going into heat!”

He gawked.

“Do you remember the last few seconds?! The question I just asked?! Staring?!”

He only had to search you for a single second before he lifted in a similar horrified fit. “No.”

You pressed your fingertips right into your eyes as you stepped away.

You weren’t sure you could handle his mating season right now.

Hell, you were downright confident.

It took not only an extreme physical toil, but a mental one too.

There was so much care.

So much to think about.

“That can’t…” Donnie mouthed.

You’d only been walking without an aid for a couple days and that was more of a trial run.

You were going to bring your crutch to work.

“I missed it.�� A purple light warmed your lids in a way that signaled he’d summoned some screens. “May 17th marked the official start date of my last. It was proceeded by about a month of signaling.”

Then there was the apartment. You loved your home, but there was no way in hell you were going to be constrained to this room for another few weeks.

“Viable mate!” Donnie’s voice held a sense of urgency. “That is what we hypothesized! It held true! You were not viable and therefore I did not go into heat!”

You finally looked at him, ever weakening.

He took you in with growing misery. “We missed our anniversary, Valentine’s…”

Something about the weary look on his face reminded you of the good.

You saw feral Donnie remorseful and affectionate.

You remembered how he doted on you.

Curled up together, you could hear the faint loving chirps he cooed.

No matter how embittered you’d exited that time, you’d also been brought undeniably closer.

It was the point you’d started thinking of each other as mates.

That intimacy flushed over you and you looked away with metered guilt.

Beside you, you could sense current Donnie raise with concerns regarding your changing attitude.

You imagined your shift confused him.

It confused you.

You weren’t really considering it.

It would be nice though.

To feel close to him.

You did.

There was no question.

You also didn’t, to a certain extent.

Everything felt like catching up.

You yearned for that easy intimacy.

The one you didn’t have to think about in a sense of relief.

The one that came because you knew how to weave around one another.

You hadn’t even fucked.

Putting your face in your hands, your breath puffed into your palms as you thought about sex.

It was an integral part of your connection with Donnie, but it had been so tame and slow since. Nothing you regretted or disliked, he used too much care as neither of you knew where the bar was anymore. He’d gone down on you and was in a constant state of unsure how to hold your legs around him. You had lost the same strength to squeeze him between your thighs and had little in the way to signal him. Alternatively, when you’d teased his slit, it’d been done so wary of your aching shoulder and a bubble of sadness that you no longer could hook his thighs in the way you wanted.

Heat Donnie knew none of that.

He’d only plow you because you were there to breed.

It sent a rush or arousal through your body as you peeked between your fingers at your partner.

You expected scolding.

You were even prepared for him to roll his eyes.

Instead, he had a similar forlorn expression.

He wanted you to.

Even though his heat was time technically lost for him, he’d felt that same draw afterward.

You both yearned to reconnect.

You moved into him and pressed to his front.

His arms came around you in a lazy tenting.

“The data came off regular softshell turtle seasons, right?”

His body moved with a nod.

“How long are those? It sounds like it should be over…”

“It depends on the weather, but typically in the middle of the spring season till early summer.”

You wanted to thump your head against his plastron. “Meaning…”

“If the viable portion holds true, you’ve healed enough for my instincts and we-”

“Just barely didn’t miss the window.” You groaned into him.

He held you for a long moment. “Let me lock myself away this time. The P.O.P. suit is long completed as is a new device to ease the constant drop.”

You vaguely remembered him showing you the finished pieces.

He brushed your back. “’No more injuries of any kind.’”

“We’d be apart again.”

His hand stopped, dead.

“You might not remember, but I will…”

You could feel his whole being tense.

“You said we wouldn’t be apart.”

You hated it.

You hated playing that card.

You weren’t trying to sway him.

It’s not like you wanted to go through another bout of heat when the thought of just getting through your meeting tomorrow filled you with enough exhausted dread.

You were tired.

You were beyond fatigued of being forced apart.

This season was meant for you.

It was designed for coupling.

Your real vacation had been interrupted.

Any subsequent time off had been forced.

Mating season was something you’d been looking forward to once.

You’d banked your paid time off on it.

It was supposed to be yours.

You wanted it.

You were so going to get fired. “Donnie.”

“Y/N.” He had as many reservations as you.

“There’s time…. Or there should be?”

He was wound tightly.

“You signaled for about a month before it kicked in. That means we should have the same amount of time…”

“Conjecture.”

“Isn’t all of it?”

He had no response.

“Do you remember how I thought I could handle it? The lead up, if we do it right… this can work.”

“Again, betting on instinct…” He rubbed up to your shoulder to coax you away.

“Your whole mating season is a hypothesis!”

He could argue that and you finally looked up at him.

He looked down with swirled concern and obvious desire.

“We try together and I swear to you that if anything happens at all, I will use the P.O.P. protection and anything else you make. I’m not going to be rash. Together. I want to try.”

He undeniably wanted to. “You’re sure…? I can’t control him.”

You nodded. “I can’t either, but you’re easily swayed.”

The faintest wry edge twitched his lips. “Work?”

“The point of the meeting tomorrow is to discuss my future. Maybe I loose my job, maybe I don’t. I’ll start sending resumes elsewhere while we plan. It’s not the best, but hey, if I do get accepted somewhere, I can always say I already had this vacation booked!”

“This… I shouldn’t be considering this…” Donnie lamented with closed eyes.

“Same. Trust me.” You leaned against him. “I really… really… want to be with you. When it was good, Donnie… It felt amazing.”

He gave the lightest churr.

You rooted into him to turn up the volume.

It came with a vibration. “We will require extreme transparency. Unlike any before.”

“I’ll start taping when you phase out. I’ll help you study it where you can’t and I’ll tell you everything I have in mind.”

“We’re doing this…” He had an uneasy note to his voice. “I am going to hope my staring bout was a momentary lapse. We’ll prepare for nothing.”

You patted him knowing that was absolutely a form of bargaining. “One request.”

“Your second.”

“The first was a mutual agreement.” You looked up at him with cool irritation.

He wouldn’t be budged but amused guilt wrinkled his gaze. “Go ahead.”

“We do it in the biodome: your oasis.”

The request caught him between surprise and titillation to manifest in an involuntary excited chirp.

The next day was characterized by highs and lows.

Your ‘trip’ was authorized.

You were demoted.

Donnie had helped you rebrand your time off as a health retreat which your company was fine with indulging as you were already partially written off due to ongoing illness.

As much as you prepared, the meeting’s reality still stung. You felt as though all of it was a slight that was covered by pleasantries, but you tried to take it in stride. You’d sent out a few resumes, even though you sort of assumed you might not hear anything back. Whether you wanted more or not, it seemed like something out of your hands so for the time being you took what you could get because there was more to deal with.

It came in the form of Donnie’s second drift which came soon after you were home from your first day back to work. You’d dutifully recorded it and as soon as Donnie came to, you showed him. He accepted with a tempered sigh that said he already knew this was actually his heat. He only needed the evidence to cement it for him. Already prepared, he’d gotten up to present you with blueprints.

A lot of thought was put into preserving the biodome’s ecosystem, so a small natural cabana sort of building would be built as a nest in an area where there was space. Construction was arranged to minimally disturb the creatures who lived there and the only other larger project was a bathing station connected to a far wall where there was plumbing. Something that couldn’t be as well integrated, you’d have a state of the art restroom at your beck and call.

For your body, there would be inoculations prior to fend off bodily invaders in the way of bacteria and the like. Donnie had even plucked a new insect repellent formula from his many patents and finished it so it could be safely implemented to you after a few weeks of testing. His plans were all directed toward you being able to focus only on pleasure and you turned into him with a prepared list of your own.

Not anything like his presentation, you instead walked him through how you thought you could offset the violent start to his heat. You hypothesized that he didn’t initially recognize you as his mate and you thought that was because you hadn’t responded to any of his preceding interest. Following through and reassuring him each time he went through one of pre-heat phases as you both now called the staring fits, you figured you could make it known you were his prior. He then wouldn’t be compelled to jump you so aggressively which would overall make the heat smooth sailing.

Donnie wasn’t convinced, but agreed before putting forth the next item of business: a sort of rebreather mouthpiece that was promised to have the power of a fully functioning oxygen tank.

A small device, you’d looked over the notes and he only mentioned the prototype would be ready tomorrow.

You’d been in the pond before and felt confident enough in the water so you pressed him as to why he created it.

“I have a feeling I will drag you under.”

He already had in an emotional sense and you wrapped your arms around him to daydream about underwater sex.

The next few weeks flew by in a busy coordination. There was work at the forefront. Your new position had you organizing long neglected documents. Then there was planning what was essentially a roughing it sort of camping trip whose duration was thought to be up to two weeks. Finally you had Donnie’s phases to attend to which had long morphed into a solace.

His next had started two days after your plan conversation and had happened yet again in the kitchen. You’d immediately dropped what you were doing outside of setting up your phone to record and curled into him. The dulled version of him tracked you as you pressed into his body and nudged up against the underside of his chin to gather his scent.

He chirped.

A sound quiet and without too much specificity, it was the first time he’d ever reacted to anything in the stupor and had you startling away.

He woke from your jarring and together you watched the footage to see his eyes had closed to a sort of contentedness from your move.

Donnie was a little flushed as he told you both he thought it would work and that the feel good chemicals released from the transaction were still coursing through him.

You were fingered right there on the counter and came fast to his satisfaction.

It became a routine that worked in both your favors. Little moments where the world shrank down to the two of you, Donnie taught you how to properly scent him. You mapped out his glands in nuzzles and Donnie stopped wearing his neck wrappings around the house in case it interfered with transference. You made up for his lost support with massages and found he especially loved to be scratched at the joints between his jaw and throat. It stretched sensitive skin just above his scars and was one of the few areas he still had accurate feeling around his throat.

Often kissing there for the sake of it, Donnie began to nudge you when he phased out. Nothing overt still, he bumped your heads which conscious Donnie identified as part of a softshells mating ritual. A question of whether you were receptive to him, you worked together on how best to respond as pacificity was usually how a male knew to go ahead. You tested out cuddling him, which phased Donnie approved with churrs so later the response was approved with a fierce kiss as soon as your mate came too.

Rebreather tested.

Work settled.

Construction completed.

Shots administered.

The time between Donnie’s phasing was lessening and it was a weekend morning when your boyfriend loomed obsessively in a way that felt just like that long fateful day. You made an excuse to leave, not that his tympanum picked it up, and only left a note behind saying it was time.

You grabbed your last properly cooked meal from a shop before heading to Donnie’s work. It had been something light, but tasty and you entered his building with a carefully filled stomach and your ID card. Unlike before, this time you were paid little mind and you wondered what kind of instructions Donnie had given considering you would clearly be going in and not exiting for days on end.

It mattered little as you pressed the elevator keys in the way he showed you to access the biodome and you saw the appropriate letters appear where floor numbers usually sat. There was still no Darling Protocol here and you knew you only had temporary access as the elevator scanned fingerprints along with a million other metrics. You liked that Donnie preserved a space of his own and. as the door’s opened, you welcomed the humidity like an old friend.

You were excited.

Waiting for the doors to seal up, you heard the latch click and elevator disappear down the shaft before you began to strip. Avoiding the pitfalls of yesteryear, you placed your clothes in an awaiting receptacle and plucked out the bottle of lube there. Taking your time, you warmed some fluid and probed yourself in preparation before stepping out, nude, onto the path. The steps were freshly swept and you could picture Donnie tidying up the space in a nervous fit as he waited for you to arrive. Smiling at it, you took the path’s slow curve and came out to the body of water where you could see Donnie, similarly naked, standing with his carapace to you on the opposite side.

“Hey!” You called out.

“Welcome!” He responded without moving.

“You ready?” You began to round the pond.

“Scared.” He spoke clearly.

“We’ll be okay. How’s P.O.P.?”

He held up the wrist where his primary tech gauntlet usually sat and showed, in a calculated rotation, that light reflected off the barely there band of the new system.

“If you try to take it off I’ll stop you.” The grass felt plush underfoot.

His head dipped in a nod.

You were edging the no-return zone where he’d catch your scent. “Donnie.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

He gave a metered sigh and you saw some of his anxiety fall off. “And I love you.”

You chuckled and crossed the invisible threshold.

Donnie turned in time and you watched cohesion fall off your mate as he caught sight of you. Dropping first his head and then his entire body, he wove a curious back and forth tilt. You didn’t give him too much attention as you approached, only watching his darkened eyes out of your periphery as you examined the nest. You’d seen it a few times for preliminary checks, but now that it was about to be your primary home, it felt the most like a vacation than it had yet.

Donnie openly churred as he closed in and you couldn’t help but finally turn to him.

“I keep telling you.” You reached out a hand and he only sniffed it once before shoving his head against your palm. “You’re still you. Look, even like this you refused to churr before. You’re so silly.”

He nipped lightly at your fingers when you tried to pet him and you relented as he rose into your space. Clearly scenting you, he then bumped his head to yours and this time you withheld indulging it.

He vibrated against your throat and nosed right into your mating mark.

You chanced lightly brushing his arms.

His head deviated at the touch before he commingled into you. Breathing him in in a very literal sense, you took the last leading steps onto the soft cotton in the nest. There it devolved into a soft haven and you knelt down into it in a slow show as he shadowed your every move. Getting onto your hands and knees, you adjusted the height of your buttocks to present before you slowed and waited with just the faintest tinge of anxiety.

Part of your mind tried to crop up memories of the pain from the last time, but you shoved them away in favor of all the success you had in coaxing his phasing. You reminded yourself that he had already bruised you by now and this current Donnie had yet to truly touch you.

Uncoordinated fingers grazed your side just to prove you wrong.

He didn’t do his mating dance.

Was that bad?

You tried to hush the flurry of thoughts.

There was more than one way for a softshell to mate.

You and Donnie had been over this in painstaking detail.

One route had the male swim down from above to mount the willing mate.

You were presenting that exact scenario, just out of water.

Donnie’s hands slid to almost hold your waist.

Mounting.

He’d mount you.

You were okay.

You were ready.

A tongue pressed scorching hot into your sex.

You cried out at its presence and arched on reflex.

He didn’t let up and licked further into you in a way that made you realize he was distracted by the lube. Something neither of you had considered since last time he hadn’t seemed to notice, it occurred to you only now that you hadn’t started with it so by the time he might have, it would have already been mixed with his spunk. Eating the foreign substance out of you, you panted as he scrubbed his beak to reach as deep as his tongue allowed. Invaded and with huffs of his hot breath scalding your perineum, his focus wasn’t on your pleasure, but its insistence wound you up.

The messy process brought you a certain distance, but nowhere close enough when he finally retreated. Your ass sank from the assault and you could hear him messily licking the mixed slick presumably off his hands where he’d tried to rub the wetness away from his cheeks. Probably smelling more like you by the second, you sighed once before raising back up and giving a needy version of your mating call.

You could hear Donnie grind to a halt just before he gave an interested trill in return.

“Why not say it back?” You complained before shaking your head and trying the noise again.

This time you heard him land on his hands before he appeared in your vision with a curious tilt of his head to the blankets. He peeped there as if it were a greeting and you sat up to appraise him.

His body fell over nearly instantly and it had a cat-like ploy to it as if he were showing his belly.

You looked past his plastron since it was all the same and saw the tip of his cockhead just barely peeking out of its entrance.

“It’s harder to get a read on you like this…” In a slow show you ran your hand over the flat area over his belly and downward.

He cheeped accordingly and you didn’t pause as you trended down between his legs.

“You can’t be stuck right?” You pressed the puckered lips around his slit where he cock was plumping them out.

He gave a mangled chirp and you saw a very obvious flexing of his pelvic muscles.

He was fighting the drop.

Hand retreating, you moved in close to snuggle up to his side.

“What’s wrong? Why are you resisting?”

He churred at your attendance and nosed you warmly.

“What is it…?” You moved to touch him and he let your hands rove amongst the many little noises he made.

One such around the sides of his shell had him shift and turn where he shoved his head directly into your bad shoulder. Not a painful maneuver nor an accidental one, it was like he was curling to protect it and it was there you understood.

“You’re you. You’re always you.” You told him and pulled him up for a kiss that tasted of your essence. “I got hurt, but I’m okay. Those are scars. You have nothing to worry about.”

You crawled on top of him.

“Look.”

He fell back onto his carapace and watched you.

“Not like perfect obviously, it still hurts, but I’ve been getting my muscles back.”

You aligned your pelvises and you watched him hesitate at your positioning.

You took a moment to take his hands and plaster them with kisses as you chirped your own affections.

He gave a few back.

“How dare you prep me and not follow through though. So mean. You’re so mean like this. So selfish.” Spreading your legs a little farther than you had yet dared, your slit pressed flush to his.

His squeak warbled with warning.

You shushed him and were deliberate in stroking your sex against his.

His cockhead caught your clit and both of you called out different cries.

Catching his plastron the best you could, you watched his expression pain and you shook your head as you repeated the maneuver. It came with a few weak squeaks before he outright squawked and you readied yourself. He flew on slipping hands to hoist his torso up so instead of piercing you, his cock slid out heavy along your sex and you were left perched atop its midpoint.

He panted heavily there, seemingly satisfied with himself for saving you.

You kissed hard into his face and he grunted from the force.

It was just enough distraction that you caught hold of his length and lined him up.

He clicked with anger and you gave your sternest mating call along with a glare.

Something about the pair had him searching your face with those blackened eyes of his.

“Please…?” You poured on sweetly, but he clicked a few times as you tried to close in. “Okay… Fine.”

Still kissing his cheek where he turned his head away, you dismounted him and he stopped to watch you. Curious, he tilted his head and you laid on your back before spreading your legs wide for him. You watched his erection pulse and he opened and closed his mouth as if the line of saliva was puppeting him. Remembering a certain involuntary show you had once put on, you dipped your fingers into your sex to tease yourself. You got exactly two strokes before he slapped your hand away.

“Well?” You held up the whetted fingers for him and his beak leaned in, intoxicated by the scent. “Don’t like it when I touch me? Do something about it.”

He caught your wrist and sucked your digits into his mouth. Messy swipes of his tongue came next and you tried to time rolling your hips in presentation for him. He extracted your hand with a pop and clicked one sharp time. You gave your cutest mating call and waited for him with an arched brow. Almost growling, he dropped down and walked up the length of you, his erection dragging against your leg before he sent uneven displeasure down to you via his expression.

You wriggled ready beneath him.

He chuffed so hard you felt the warm air before he looked down and watched where his cock edged close to your cunt. You gave your best questioning chirp. He clicked in response, but moved his hips the slightest bit closer. With a shift, you angled your pelvis in a show. He exhaled slow and long like deflating pressure before his cock finally brushed your center. You exaggerated a mating call and he nosed you so hard up from your chin it felt like him flicking you.

You chuckled through the sting and he clearly grouched as his glans slid along your wet folds. You gave a puffy breath at the feeling of him and chewed your lip to keep from chasing him. It gave him space to test and each uncoordinated swipe had him losing will. With you and his body betraying him, his hips rolled for presses until his glans pressed to enter you.

You caught a noise in your throat and best pleaded with your expression. He watched it with a narrowed gaze before he pushed again, his cock bending to breach you the slightest amount. You tried to keep him in your vision, but your gaze swam at the spreading pressure. His churr multiplied at the sight and with a few more inaccurate rolls of his hips, he passed the tighter ring of flesh for both of you to moan.

Everything after that was a given.

Three total times on the first go around and you could only count by the sudden bursts of his cum. You’d nearly forgotten they happened without warning and the first time you sobbed at the amount. It unnerved him, but you trapped him in place with locked legs and a few clicks of your own. Clearly wary, but still compelled, he licked the salt from your cheeks and you kissed him lazily where he could not return it.

You came somewhere between two and three as he was still getting the hang of your pleasure. Something you akinned to like riding a bike, he had to fight off instinct and in that battle he lost a few key details. You minded little as sweat stewed your bodies together and the soup you created was one all your own. Seasoned with your favorite ingredients the streak ended only because you felt a tug just above your knee.

The bones were mended and sealed, but strain sometimes made it feel like they threatened to buckle for the strangest sensation. From Donnie’s third overflowing load, you nudged him as best you could and gave a withered squeak. He came away instantly and slammed down against your side to best monitor you. You shushed his concerns, body tingling pleasantly and tried to convey that you hadn’t passed your limits; you just needed to set them.

He didn’t understand, but you also needed your strength for something else. While another fuck was possible, you didn’t want to incapacitate yourself quite yet and sat up. Doing a little stretch, your mate curled around your hips while you searched the nest. Hidden away under a pillow, you found a purple cylinder and brought it up to him to sniff.

He only barely stuck his beak out before black marbles were once again staring at you.

You gave a single chuckle as conscious Donnie had predicted this. He’d kept the object close to his body so the scent was wholly his. It meant current Donnie would accept the objects place amongst his nest. That hypothesis ringing true, you found the quick release latch and opened up the device that reminded you very much of an instrument case for one particularly lewd flute.

“Okay… this is going to be a thing. Think you can at least try for me?” You looked to Donnie as if you were trying to get an unruly kid to the dentist.

He stared back without comprehension.

You sighed and got up on your knees to approach where his cock hung heavy and ready for use. “This is a step beyond a cock sleeve.”

He didn’t react much as you laid the case open like a book beside his member for him to get used to.

“What did I joke it was? A cock shirt or a cock briefcase? Something stupid like that…” You flicked a switch to turn it on.

You couldn’t hear anything, but Donnie shot upright to stare down at the object.

It began to glisten as the inner mold was lubricated. “Either way, I need to put this on you so you don’t get that irritation like last time.”

His head tilted to one side as if he could find the exact mechanism that buzzed.

You were delicate in picking his cock up and holding it.

He gave what you could only hear as a nervous churr.

“You’re going to freak out… please work with me…” You switched to hold him dangling in one hand and carefully moved the sleeve between his legs.

A twitch of his thigh said he was absolutely going to run.

“Hey.” He didn’t look so you chirped loud for his attention.

He snapped to your face with a blink.

“Quit tuning my talking out. Rude. So rude.” You scolded him and he at least seemed to get your intention because he leaned into you.

You lightly kissed his head and pumped his cock the best you could with one hand before making a very slow move to lay him down into the sleeve.

He gave an almost imperceptible nervous peep. “I know, so scary. Your cock is really sensitive, but this is going to help take the edge off when I can’t.”

He sounded a few more times, but you kept him still long enough to lay him down into the mold made exactly for him.

He had a flighty air to him and you wove your free arm through his to keep him in place. “I’m not going to close it yet, but feel that? It’s warm and the fluid is something you came up with. It’s a special balm that mimics your insides.”

You stroked over the top of his member to lightly press him into the device.

He gave a few stunted seconds of churring for it.

You continued to run your hands up and down, mapping him out, and fighting the desperate urge to lay down.

“Think you’ll let me close it? Please, sweet. I really want to rest.” You traced his glans.

He rolled out the softest churr, still staring hard at the sleeve.

You moved your hand away in a big show of taking the other half device. “Please, Don?”

His body tightened up.

You shushed him and kissed into that spot between his jaw and neck.

His lids fell unconsciously and you moved to close the sleeve.

As soon as it locked into place, he was off.

You huffed with irritation and watched him several feet away in the grass as he tried to tear the object off his cock.

“Damnit, Donnie!” You got up on wobbly legs to chase him down.

He succeeded as soon as you exited the nest and ran while you retrieved the sleeve.

You then spent the next couple of hours trying to get it on him. Three times you got the thing sealed only for him to run off. It was your actual exhaustion that kept him coming back and you eventually won out because you collapsed on top of him while trying to get it on the fourth. It meant when the latch hooked that final time, he couldn’t bolt without bucking you off. He sat in clicking misery as you dozed off to that broken stove.

When you awoke, you were tucked into his side and he was watching over you.

Taking a moment to wake amongst his honey-filled greeting, you shot your gaze down to find the sleeve still over his dick.

“You didn’t…?” Tipping your head right back up to search him, he gave one loud, put out chuff.

You tackled him, opened it, and mounted him in one fell swoop.

He accepted the sleeve begrudgingly after that, but you always made sure to make it worth his while. You figured he also liked how it soothed his member and it tickled you that even in this feral state, he was just as frustratingly stubborn. It all sang true to him and you couldn’t help the affection that overflowed no matter how different the scenario was.

It was bathed in an orange glow that you ate your dinner. Enjoying the hues of the sunset openly pouring in from the dome, you had a stock of provisions all for ease with maximized health benefits. Hanging just outside the nest to avoid crumbs, you enjoyed the scenery. Birds tittered in their spots to sleep and the jungle-like foliage whispered of whatever was amongst it. You then sucked heartily from a big water bottle you could refill that had long dissolved the tablet within. Another addition for your safety, it did something about dehydration and had added minerals that didn’t affect the taste, but added the faintest grittiness which you hoped you’d get used to.

When you crawled back into bed after dusting yourself off, Donnie waited with eager chirps and you thought you might go again, but he seemed content to rest. You pondered aloud to him and he listened attentively about how he wasn’t as eager as either of you thought he’d be. He wanted you, that was clear, but his drive had been curbed from last year making you wonder what exactly was the cause.

Was it your injuries?

If that was the case, why did he go into heat in the first place?

Was he still catching up emotionally?

You knew you were stunted by the prior lack of intimacy and just being beside him satisfied you to a certain point.

Was it because he’d finally proclaimed his love?

This theory more tangential, you thought maybe revealing those final pieces had abated his desperation in claiming you. There was nothing else in that regard for him to hold back and that translated to him as a beast still ready to breed, but one that didn’t need to pin his mate down. He was honest with himself that you were his and he was himself no matter the form.

You figured it was all of the above and, as the stars came out for the barely there pockmarks in the New York sky, you rolled over and looked up through the sheer layer above the canopy. The cabana had been constructed mostly of poles with some dangling cottons draping down them for the sake of it. It created an open air feel that hid nothing away and only marked off where the nest was. The many pillows and blankets had been scented by you both a few nights prior before Donnie constructed a large enough space where both of you could lie out. From the plush nature, you knew there was some sort of base mat under it all, but you cared little because it was wonderfully comfortable.

You dozed off meaning to alleviate Donnie once before doing so, but that dreamy vacation feel came for you like that charm that had been on a bed you once liked.

You awoke deep in the night and were a happy bleary as you could barely see.

Donnie was right there in an instant, nosing you with affections in both a way that could be seen as rousing or as nudging you back to sleep. You supposed the choice was up to you and you kissed him in a test of not knowing which to commit to. He churred soft and encouraging and amongst the rolling sound you freed yourself from some covers you dredged up. Donnie slid a testing hand over your cotton warmed flesh and you knew you’d chosen to have him. Curling close, you both moved in a gentle tandem and you unhooked the cock sleeve before moving under him. He kicked the object away and his dampened cock spread eager pre-cum against your thighs before you spread.

Slotting himself between your legs, the leak reminded you of that certain level of desperation and you caught him to swipe the spunk on thick. It spread in globules that you stroked against yourself until he entered. A careful push, he didn’t force the matter and you dreamily cuddled him close as he rocked where he seemed resistant to pull out. It felt like a lullaby in the night cooled air and you watched the thin lines of his face you could barely make out in the dark. Whispering your love to him, he came first with you close behind to then languish in the fill.

You awoke to a bird’s happy trill.

Something like a confection, it invaded your dreamscape and coaxed you up. The once darkened sky now glowed a hue of opening lids and you hummed contentedly. Looking down, you found Donnie curled up and dozing beside you. Another new rarity, something about it assured you that every single one of your theories had been correct about his change. A mixture of things gone right, no matter how wrong the road there had been, Donnie protected you and felt safe enough himself to commit to a nap.

You were careful not to jostle him as you rolled over onto your belly and crawled up to the edge of the nest. It gave you a good vantage point to look out and you hydrated on silted water while you watched the sunrise. It didn’t come into distinct view, but light cracked and slipped into the space. It broke through the trees where the birds stirred with wakefulness. It poured out along the grasses where green did their morning stretches. It then reached the cabana where the cotton dropped its reddened sunset orange for the golden glow of a day anew.

When Donnie stirred, it was your turn to pour on the greetings. Staying in your same position, you were able to bend at the waist to curl overtop his tucked head. He chirped drowsy and you lined up a dozen happy ones for the sake of it. When he pulled his head from his hole, it was with a dopey sweet smile and you nuzzled and nosed him to join you in sunrise. He came with soft peeps speaking of how much he liked it and when you looked out toward the scenery, he followed suit.

Adjusting so his body could be butted up against yours, you only had to turn your head for him to be there and he gave you a sugared mating call. You responded in joyous kind and he pressed his beak to your shoulder. The opposite one of both injury and your mating mark, he mouthed it lazily in a way that you thought was him tasting you. The flash of wet heat felt good and cropped up a warmth in your belly.

Not sure exactly how to translate your feeling, you poured it into a chirp that came out needy to your ears. Its meaning met, he nibbled with purpose and began to climb atop you. Perking up your ass for him, he pressed it back down into the nest with his plastron and you sighed as he continued to lick down your spine. He sucked and bit flesh where he could, but all of it was without hurry.

It had you squirming and a morning drench of fluids felt sticky between your pressed thighs. Desire flared, you arched beneath him and he nipped to keep you in place. Outright whining because you were finally truly as needy as he presumably wanted you to be, you couldn’t understand why your back was more pressing than breeding. Wanting to be marked and flooded by him, you gave a few strangled squeaks until you stopped dead when you heard a sharp plastic click.

You instantly knew the noise to be the latch on the sleeve and had to crane a head over your shoulder where you caught the tail end of Donnie tossing the piece away.

You not only did not remember putting it back on him last night, but you were floored he’d figured out the actual mechanism to get it off in just one day’s time. The latch had been made for that purpose, but even when he tore it off yesterday it had been with yanking palms and kicking feet. He swept his gaze up to you in what almost looked like his usual smug nature and you felt the heat spread up from your gut and through your cheeks.

He gave a sultry mating call before slicking his wet cock against your ass crack. You tensed and sighed eager for him, but he only lazily swiped. Groaning your protests first before clicking a few, when you finally sent him a glare over your shoulder, he was watching with that same smarmy look.

“What?” You huffed.

He gave a questioning trill and looked down at where his pre was starting to drip.

You tried bringing your hips up but one of his palms came down to stop you.

You grumbled.

He gave a sweetened chirp.

“Seriously? What?!” You glowered at him the best you could.

He gave the start of a sharp noise.

It sounded sort of leading.

It also came familiar to your ears before you ground out a flat stare.

“I’m starting to think I like you better sex crazed!”

He did nothing more than what he’d been doing.

You summoned a deep breath before you gave the loudest mating call you could.

He gave one happy chirp before his unfocused fingers mashed hands into your ass. Your breathing warbled as he pressed and kneaded the dough there before splitting it into two where his cock moved to nestle betwixt. Pressing the flesh up and around him the best he could, he rocked there and no matter how many times you tried, he refused to let you arch. You were stuck flat on your stomach and felt irrationally submissive as he stroked himself.

You wanted him and gave spindly chirps in hopes he’d change his mind, but he only stroked himself through the crevice before he pulled a metered amount back and pressed his glans to your rectum.

You squeaked loud and in warning.

Now wasn’t the time to test that out.

You had no prep and subsequent washing was out of the question. Even with its new bathroom, the biodome wasn’t really built with a proper shower and you still had the marathon of however many days Donnie’s heat would last. It had been a nightmare enough trying to figure out the logistics of how his dropped cock would inevitably submerge in the pond water and then be later pressed into you.

Whimpering once more, you realized he was gone and looked to find him off and to your side.

There he chirped apologies where he seemed to think he hurt you.

You softened your worries in noises and nudged your head underneath his chin in hopes to soothe him. It didn’t immediately and he held onto his usual stubbornness as he fussed over you. You gave in to a point before the frustration of denial reared once again and you urged him with a soft mating call. He returned it with a questioning edge and you made a show of laying flat for him to get back on. He nosed your face up one last time to make sure confirmations were etched there before he was careful to mount you again.

Still soaked in both your slicks, this time he allowed you to pop your ass some to reveal just enough of a cavern down to your cunt.

He churred loud and proud at the soaked sight before he angled himself down the pressed line of your thighs. A rail straight to where you needed him most, it was a direct shot and he slid right in for both of you to mewl dreamily. He rocked his hips twice to seat himself how he liked before one hand slammed onto the small of your back and the other squeezed your hip. He then thrust and you wound your hands into the sheets to hold on.

Each pulse bumped down from the angle and you felt it prodding outward from the inside. It pressed further into the plush nest and, as he picked up speed, you began to realize how little strain the position put on your injuries. Unsure if he even realized it, his strokes devolved into eager pistoning.

You pulled up a pillow to stuff your moans into and one sharp buck had you crying out as an indication he wanted to hear you. Giving him a quick glare where he was hyper focused on only your connection, you faked a few cries which spurned him. Driving deeper at a new angle, his plastron cut your ass cheeks and he scraped your walls morphing the faux sounds into real ones. Losing focus as it wound you up, you felt his strokes shift as you clamped down on him. He savored the tightness and prodded you just right until cumming was an inevitability.

You did so with a gasp of his name and he gave you only a few seconds before he reset his earlier pace. Crying from oversensitivity, something about the long overdue nature of being used had you babbling an affirmation off your lips. “Yes, yes, yes!”

His churr warped into a nearly delirious noise and the hand on your back disappeared. It manifested on your opposite hip and, in what must have been a full body bend, you felt Donnie’s forehead slam into your spine as he arched all of himself into you to cum.

Each thick rope lashed you and you broke it down to a microscopic level. It was millions of invaders wriggling in a fight into your womb to break through the surface of your eggs. All for you, your repeated prattle picked up now in begging hopes that it would stick. One bouncy spring would shove a white coil through a relenting cell wall and the immediate multiplication would make up the cell knocking you up.

Bucking backwards, you wanted more and you wanted it in the right place.

Instead of resisting, Donnie seemed to catch the candor and used his hold on your hips to press you back down first there and then with his whole body. You chirped for him, begging, and he came with soothing ones as his large body meant his head appeared over your shoulder. Rolling your ass back into him, he obliged to keep rocking into you and mouthed at your mating mark.

You prepared for this.

You knew how to properly bandage it.

You wanted him to bite you.

Giving your mating call as loud as you could in an effort to deafen him, he seemed unbothered as he grazed his teeth and watched you with darkened eyes. A cool burnt cap to the molten underneath, he thrust with purpose and you felt the whole of you bounce as you began to slide in the sheets. No escape, he closed his arms in around you, trapping you there first, before his legs spread to cage your hips in. Utterly at his whim, you continued your desperate plea for more and it was around the time that tears were starting to drown your tongue that he finally sank his teeth into your shoulder.

Unlike the bite from last year, he metered the move more to hold you and you didn’t feel the skin break.

Tired of being treated like some breakable object, you thrashed in the barely there space afforded and he clicked angrily at you. Drool taking your ability to do it back, you snapped wet fingers for a similar sound and retribution took his last sense. He bit harder, finally breaking skin like the satisfying burst of a balloon and you cried out happy as he tried to fuck you still.

You extended your claws from the fabric they were buried and found his hands to shred flesh. He hissed wet bloody bubbles beside your head and shoved with so much downward force that you knew your back was going to be an exact map of his plastron groves. All pieces meant to fit together, you saw that elastic snap of sperm penetrating an egg over and over until you realized it was manifesting on your lips as a broken mating call.

He answered it in a growl and rush of cum that nearly took your vision because it felt as if it had nowhere else to go. You drowned in it, welcoming the gurgle and heat that threatened to consume you. He stuffed you and submerged his own cock in the meantime before he broke to gasp as if he forgot to breathe. You saw flecks of red saliva string off of him in a pant and your core ached, unsatisfied.

Throwing both your elbows back against his hold, he squeaked and relented enough that you got up. It took more shoves that he fought against with nips, but you knew he wouldn’t fully commit and called his bluff. He answered by having to back away, but you didn’t let him escape. When he fell back onto his carapace, you came with shaking legs that refused to break your connection. Sat reverse cowgirl, delirium spun you around and he outright moaned at the twisting feeling of your cunt on his cock.

You got one glimpse of his fucked out figure before you descended on him. He gave a mating call with a fearful edge as you went straight for your litany of mating marks and dragged your teeth in to tear the stubborn flesh. You were almost off his cock, but the spread tried to hold on and he caught you in a fumbling hold to at least stroke his tip.

The pressure of his wide glans tugging at your entrance bred a pleasant sensation and when you finally came up for air similar to him, you could feel the red staining your teeth. You used it to grin him a vicious smile and he liked his violent mate because he forced you straight down his shaft. Shoving his beak against yours in an unknown move, you tangled tongues and tasted each other as you were bounced in his lap.

You were going to find the upper limit, you decided right then. You would see if that endless amount of semen this version of him touted was actually true. You were going to see just how much baby batter he could stuff into you. You were going to make that belly distention a reality. You were going to see just how long that dropped cock could stay out. You’d scare it back into the safety of his body. You’d carve it back out of him. You’d shove it back into you where it belonged. He was yours; you were his.

His mate.

You lost track and count of anything feasible. There was no charting a thing that didn’t stop; one could only follow the duration. That came in glass above where the sun rolled over head and you assumed looked away from the lewd display. That cosmic deity could only run and hide in sight of you both. Even the reigning royalty of incomprehensible beings would think what you’d done was irreconcilable. The weight of your current erotic misdeeds would tip cosmic scales and all that was left would be scorched earth and you with child.

You awoke with a delirious start and your entire body screamed in agony.

Donnie was there.

He was always there.

He was everything.

He was also doting.

He was sweetness.

He was nuzzling you and trying to get you to lay back down.

You were upright.

Altogether as if not knowing had been the only thing holding you up, realization came with a snap of your muscles and you collapsed where none of your body would respond. You gave a withered squeak, confused as to why you’d lost coordination and Donnie chirped worries all around you.

He went on like that for what seemed like hours until you could finally see up out of the cabana over the nest. It was the dead of night and the only lights came from the building above and the faint glow around the edges from the city below.

All day.

You’d fucked what had to be non-stop all day long.

Making up for lost time, you thought.

Only you weren’t counting the last three months; you were only counting the first day of the heat.

Only four times on day one?

Pathetic.

You had so much more in you.

You had an entire legion in you to be exact.

Populations the world over were poured into your vagina.

Little swimmers that then passed the cervix, into your uterus, and to the tubes to do their jobs.

You threw a lead arm over your face and felt the shame in how determined you’d been to be bred.

The birth control was fully operational, you had to remind yourself.

You’d fucked yourself stupid as opposed to the usual other way around.

Groaning, you felt something move and fall off your chest.

Pretty sure those parts of you were safely attached, you lifted your arm the few inches you could and looked down your body. While you were left comatose in your mind, Donnie had been busy. It looked like he’d brought you a total of three water bottles along with at least four packaged foods that you could see. There was also now a set of those specially made mineral tablets, of which the set had slid from the pile on your chest before disappearing into the sheets.

You laughed.

It was weary and dry, but it came out bright nonetheless.

Donnie only squeaked with further concerns, but you waved him in before promptly passing right back out amongst your care package.

You slept straight through until what had to be the next day’s late afternoon. Shadows starting to morph, you had been cleared of everything plopped on you and Donnie bobbed in your vision with clear concern. You nuzzled into the side of his head for reassurance before you left to clean up and use the restroom. You threw a sterilized pack over your mating mark and came out with some disinfectant on cotton for Donnie.

He was already prepared to dodge at the oncoming smell, but as soon as you tried to dab his bite marks, he scampered off. You rolled your eyes as you’d at least gotten a few good pats at it and walked out after him into a small patch of natural grass. It came up in thin spindly strands and was drenched in sunshine. Falling right back into your nudist ways that came with season, it was oddly comforting to feel the rays hit your body. Your weary body begged you to sit so you soaked up the sun until your boyfriend wandered close.

“Let me clean that properly and you can join me.”

He stayed a metered amount away as if he understood.

“More grass for me.” You tilted your head up and gave a dreamy sigh.

He gave a whiny chirp.

You held up the cotton ball and waited.

With a few clicks, he eventually came over and you were slow in blotting his already healing teeth marks clean. “Good boy.”

He grumbled and you traced down to the purple casket between his legs.

“So you are putting it back on?” You gestured to it and he sat as if ready to take it off.

Your hand wilted and the non-committal nature gave him pause.

You thought for a moment before reaching out for a new offering. “Wanna snuggle?”

He came forward to set his chin in your palm.

You thought you might explode and akinned the moment to being accepted by a feral animal. “So cute…”

He chuffed lightly and you released him to get into his space. He watched you with a lazy wide pupil as you mingled close. He chirped curious when you nosed the line of his jaw and eventually gave into a churr as you pressed your lips to his. You felt the rumbling through your teeth and lined up kisses over his cheek. He bent to give you better access and you peppered his face with presses. Keeping them from being ticklish, you were pointed with each and he accepted them all with great honor.

You drifted to the side of his head, edging his scars for numbness and kissed heavy against his neck to keep the move more chaste. It put your throat on view for him and he must have felt compelled to respond in kind to the gesture because he gave a kitten’s lick to what he could reach. You giggled at the sensation and did the same to him in the equivalent spot before waiting to see what he’d do.

He found it in him to test because he nosed against the centerline of your esophagus which you again mirrored. He liked it and pressed his beak in taps down to your collar where he followed the bone to your shoulder. You shuddered at the puffs of his breath on your exposed skin and methodically copied him with brushes of your lips.

You both peeked at each other at the same time and you giggled at the coyness of it all.

Here you were, in an approximation of nature, with nothing on, and having a romp with your boyfriend in the grass.

It all felt compellingly romantic even if your partner wouldn’t consciously remember this moment.

A dreamy sound came from you and in a shove from his beak, Donnie knocked you over.

“Hey!” You scolded without heat and liked the soft grass tickling your back.

He hovered over in a non-dominating way and seemed to observe you.

You gave him your brightest smile as it was honestly there.

He seemed to inhale at the sight before he slowly descended to pick back up where he left off. Touching his beak and his lips in the process against your skin, he dotted taps over to the bulb of your shoulder and back to your sternum. He nuzzled there before licking up something he smelled which you couldn’t imagine was anything more than sweat. The sensation tickled and perked your nipples which caught his eye. Your breasts still gave him no interest in his heat, but the involuntary movement was suddenly of great importance to him.

His narrowed gaze was the last thing you saw before he enveloped the right bud in his mouth.

You cried a soprano’s note as he swiped his tongue without focus and instead to taste.

Nothing there, he unlatched and looked you over as if you were the strange one for making the erogenous noise.

“Mean…” You panted as the saliva he left behind meant the air differential teased the bud.

His gaze flicked, revealing very little white until he descended to lick a fat stripe up to the other nipple.

This time your body arched before he bit straight down.

“Ah!!” You shoved him and he squeaked as he let himself fall away.

You cupped your boob and hissed.

A quick check found no blood, but you rubbed to ease the sting. “Geez. You were so careful… Still feral. I need to remember. You’re smart, but not here here…”

After a few worried seconds, he came close with an apology oozing off of him.

“I know. You didn’t understand…” You patted his leg.

He gave what was almost a whine before bumping his head into your left shoulder.

You rested yours against his.

In a quick dip he had your breast in his mouth.

“W-wait! Why would you-!?”

He swirled his tongue and you shook against him.

It turned into a full body affair and this time he pressed you back into the grass as if laying you down. “Donnie…”

He released and nosed over the area as if sending his apologies directly to the source.

“Forgiven. You’re forgiven…” You sighed up until he repeated the process to your first nipple. “You learn too fast!”

Persistent and obviously proud of himself, you could just see his tail wagging furiously as each twist of his tongue had you writhing more and more.

You reached with fumbling fingers down the flat of his plastron.

He moved his hips closer in a shuffle and you toyed with a sleeve latch a few times before you freed his cock.

“It’s all sex to you.” You teased and pushed him away enough so you could present yourself for him.

He churred loudly as he settled down to take you and pressed his cock in.

Once seated he stopped to watch you from overhead with a rolling churr.

“Or… not?” You brushed his cheek and felt a sense of déjà vu.

With one last beak press to the plump of your cheek, he then settled with his head beside yours.

You lounged in the sun until it started to hang heavy.

Did he know?

It wasn’t possible.

There was no way this or lucid Donnie knew about your wish.

You hadn’t told anyone how much you wanted to just stay in stasis with his cock inside.

You felt warm and filled and drunk from his attention and the sun’s before he finally began to move. A slow start that came with him stretching lightly. Your warbled breath from the connection spurned him on. With increasingly heady presses, he kept you intertwined and you held onto his carapace.

You got your romp for real where it left a permanent imprint of crushed greens. Finished up, you locked Donnie’s dick up before heading back to the nest to finally eat. Having neglected to for so long, you were starved and ate your fill. You must have made it look pleasurable because you got Donnie to munch on a few morsels. More than anything you downed water in droves until you were sated and made an exaggerated collapse to curl up.

In the night you awoke again for a short sleepy session before promptly passing right back out. It seemingly fixed your sleep schedule because you were up with the birds. However tempting, you decided moderation was better for your body and staved off the idea of marathoning to instead go in spurts.

A good morning, a forenoon hello, and you broke for lunch.

Setting up beside the pond with your rebreather by your side, you ate with your toes just shy of the water. Donnie appeared only to give you a confirming once over before he dove straight in. Barely disturbing the surface, you watched him swim seemingly for the sake of it and relaxed in watching him as you ate. He came up just as you were almost done and you offered him the last bite. He sniffed at it before his beak wrinkled and he turned away to dive back in.

Shrugging to yourself, you finished off your food and were nursing a bottle of water when he emerged with his head down. You watched him lazily flicking your toes as he approached. Wet or dry mattered little to his turtle instincts so you weren’t concerned that he’d shake. You imagined he’d probably lay down next to you so you readied for the damp press when his head dipped further near your thigh. Droplets speckled your leg and he retreated with a single happy chirp.

You look down to find actively bleeding fish twitching with the last of its life.

You didn’t even have it in you to scream.

Your eyes went bug-wide and you turned them up to Donnie who gave you a second, now encouraging chirp.

Eat.

He wanted you to eat it.

From where he’d grabbed it from the water.

With his mouth.

“No!” You bellowed and shot to your feet.

Your sudden move startled him, but he was too close to the water and fell in.

Dancing on your toes, you looked around for something to flick the carcass in after him.

Donnie burst through the water’s surface already clicking.

“No! I had food! You always bring me my food! Real food! Why would you give me this?!” You pointed at the accursed fish.

He continued his clatter and moved up shore as if to defend his catch.

“Don’t touch it! Donnie!!” You reared.

He chuffed loudly, evacuating water from his nostrils before in a huffy show he dipped down.

“Don’t you dare!!!”

In a single gulp he swallowed the fish and you kicked him right back into the pond.

“Gross!!!” You complained to the air and stormed back to the nest. “I can’t believe you ate it!!!”

You heard a splash as Donnie emerged once again raging like a broken car starter.

“Don’t you dare! Leave me alone!! Ugh!!! I’ll never get you to brush your teeth!! Why did you do that?!”

Protests were had from both sides and the standoff lasted until the sun began to set. You were sure your mate had long dried, but both his stubbornness and your cold shoulder kept him elsewhere. With the sun rushing to clock out, you figured you’d be sleeping alone when you heard a soft peep.

You barely turned your head and in your periphery you saw him doing the same.

It was comical and you shook your head to finally look at him. “You don’t get the boob thing, but you get it feels good to me so you did it. I don’t like the fish thing, but that’s something you refuse to understand?”

He gave you the barest glance and almost seemed to purse his lip.

“I like kissing you. You don’t get that either.” You sighed and fully turned to him. “Both our mouths are gross right now! Conscious you makes it a big deal! Like, okay, it’s hard for even me to routinely brush my teeth in these conditions so I get it, but that was a live fish from a scuzzy pond!”

He came as close as the edge of the nest.

You shuddered. “Now when and if I kiss you, I’ll be thinking of kissing that fish.”

His head tilted where he didn’t understand.

You deflated. “You refuse to eat. I haven’t seen you drink. What can we do…?”

Donnie bowed as if to show guilt and he waited.

“Wait, wasn’t there …?” Memory jarred, you moved over to your provision pile. You dug through the many supplies that were neatly packed until you found a little packet of breath strips and read the label aloud, “’Kills 99.9% of bad breath germs.’”

He chirped curiously.

“I’m gonna assume that includes fish.” In a bob, you stepped out and approached him. “You are going to take this and hate it, but you will do it because you love me, got it?!”

He only stared at your stern pointing.

You opened the package and dropped one on your tongue where it burned before approaching him. He had a fighting stance to him and you tucked the package into one palm. With the other hand you caught his chin and, under a slight tug to his lower lip, his mouth opened. As fast as you could, you cracked the package, picked a strip, and slapped it down on his tongue before he could bite you.

His teeth still grazed your knuckle and he screeched at the taste.

You collapsed for the mental effort and watched him tussle with himself in the grass. Knowing the strip was long stuck and doing its work, you didn’t care if he ate the blades because that seemed more palatable. Feeling vindicated, you didn’t think much when he stormed toward you. He came in close and shoved his mouth to yours as if to share the pain. You only had a similar minty freshness there and when you licked into his mouth to tease him with it, he clicked so loud it percussed in your eardrums.

You released him with an evil cackle and he stayed on the far side of the nest that night. You awoke feeling cold in the early hours of the morning and tried to crawl over to him. He vacated the nest as soon as got near and you stared after him feeling only a slight tinge of guilt before you curled up to steal the last of his warmth from where he’d been.

When you got up for the day, he was waiting nearby and pointedly looking away. You chirped lonely and his aura only soured. You tried again in hopes your prevailing sadness would sway him, but he staunchly refused. Not unlike the cold you’d felt that night, the nest felt like a chilled place so you exited it to take a walk. Moving around the fresh air of the biodome, you traversed through the thicker foliage. It was where Donnie would often run to, but you found little evidence of him having been there. Instead it was an undisturbed ecosystem and you got to observe the birds from their perches. They watched you with flighty tilts of their head. An avid watcher for the time, you emerged around midday based on the sunlight.

Donnie was a lump of his carapace, pointedly not watching you from your nest.

You gave a heady sigh and looked out across the water. From the debacle yesterday, your rebreather sat where you’d left it by the shore. Staring hard at it, you circled the pond to gather it up. Once you reached it, you held the piece in your hands. Donnie’s words about dragging you under seemed unlikely. You imagined you’d probably only get to use this if you got in yourself.

Clutching the mask tight, you cocked a sort of smile before you donned it. Going through the checks Donnie taught you to make sure it was operational, you then toed into the water as quietly as you could. You told yourself you were doing this for you and waded in. Water lapping warmth around your thighs, your waist soon dipped below and the ground disappeared. Goosebumps coated your flesh and you threw out pockmarked stems as you swam towards the center.

It was there you pumped your arms, once, twice, and then dove down the best you could. The rebreather kicked in and you focused on breathing through your mouth as you looked down into the water. It was murky towards where you’d kicked up silt, but on the opposite side you could see the bottom of the pond. A layered memory, little fishes swam around the muck and you heard a splash through the water.

You tensed a little, not sure how Donnie would react, but you only saw a flash of him before he headbutted you in the stomach. Coughing out and losing the rebreather from force, you were shoved to the surface and then dragged up on land as you continued to cough.

Donnie squeaked up a storm and you swatted him away.

“Why’d you do that?!” You turned on him only to freeze when you saw how much distress painted him.

He silenced and his black orbs almost looked like they might shed tears.

He was scared.

He must have thought you drowned.

He didn’t understand how the rebreather worked.

How could he?

You tackled him in a hug and chirped as many apologies as you could muster.

He returned a few and curled around you clearly blocking you from the water.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” You repeated and petted his carapace. “I’m sorry, but look… I need…”

Turning, you saw your rebreather floating on the water.

“Donnie.” You lifted his head so he’d look at you.

He blinked at you in a withered state.

“Can you get that?” You pointed towards the object.

When he didn’t look, you pushed his chin until he finally relented.

“That. Get that.”

He took a little unsteady breath before he got up. Very aware of you, he watched you nervously with little flicks of his pupil toward the pond.

“I’ll stay right here.” You nodded down and shifted your ass to show you were staying put.

Though he couldn’t glean the meaning, he searched you for a long moment before chancing it. He darted away as fast as he could, diving only in the water long enough to grab the piece before returning to you with a latent spray. You rubbed some off your face before taking the rebreather to show him.

“I can breathe with this.” You poured out the pond water and wiped the mouthpiece the best you could before putting it on.

You hummed for him to look and he did with a dart of his head.

It was a bird-like concern and you exaggerated breathing through it. A wheezy noise came out of its use on dry land and had Donnie bristling. You nodded your head so he could tell you were fine and he only relented with an anxious chirp.

Taking the item out of your mouth, you looked at him. You knew he liked swimming, but not once had he tried to get you to join him. He often slipped away to do it while you were otherwise occupied. It was both a testament to how settled he was and how the entire dome felt like his own secured space. It also made it seem like being in the water was his own version of self-care.

Donnie’s thigh was close to yours and a drip of water streaked from your leg to his. It reminded you of the many watery moments you’d shared from rain to showers. Actual memories giving way to seen ones, your next thought was a video of two softshells spinning around each other underwater.

You wanted to do that.

You already satisfied his instinct, but you wanted to do it to the fullest.

You only had to convince him, which was annoying, but not impossible. Brushing some errant droplets away, you placed the rebreather between your teeth before nodding to the water. Donnie immediately stiffened as a barrier and you sent him a honeyed look since you couldn’t properly verbalize. He watched on, ready to stop you and you only brushed your hands over his arms.

Flexing muscles rippled under the dotted moisture and he relaxed a certain amount. You’d been angrily separated for about a day, but your supposed brush with death had made him forget those concerns. His primary directive was your safety and you curled closer to him. He gave a faint churr and the dip of his lids said he missed this. Carefully resting your forehead to his cheek, he chirped a few sweet sounds among the rolling vibration and you settled your weight against him.

You were mostly dry by the time you moved again. Muscles loose from lounging in the sun, you slid the putty of your body towards the water. Donnie’s hackles rose a little too slowly, but you squeezed his hand for reassurance. He didn’t exactly hold it back, but his fingers twitched as you got your toes in the water. You paused there, flicking droplets with foot flexes and looked back at him with metered excitement.

It took him a while to think, but he eventually broke apart from you to slip into the water. He then floated, his eyes and carapace visible just far enough off shore where he could fit. You were slow in shuffling down, pressing against leaf blades and mud until your waist was submerged. He kicked off and his arms barred around you to lift himself out of the water. You touched the rebreather to the tip of his beak and he gave a faint churr at the reassurance.

Taking it as a go ahead, you pushed off a bit more, where he hovered around you like a hungry shark. You got off the bank and pumped your arms in an obvious show that you could swim. Donnie continued to circle, first out of concern until each rounding seemed to change. More fluid motions, you saw hints of the dance he’d attempted in your apartment once and it took you counting as if readying yourself to jump into a skipping rope before you kicked off to swim with him.

Clunky in comparison, he didn’t seem to fault you where you couldn’t keep up and instead swam to match you. You felt bad you couldn’t compare to his elegance, but the excitement of the moment wrinkled your gaze. Heart leaping, you chanced darting towards him. He first playfully dodged you as he examined your swimming strength before he too took his time breaking the circling to chance brushing you. All coy flipper flaps, they were questions answered by the dance. Instinct took your boyfriend in a dive and you sucked in a final breath through your nose before pursuing.

His eyes shifted to an uncharacteristic white from the nictitating membrane and he immediately broke his rounding to examine you. You waved at him to show you had your facilities and he pressed his beak to various spots of your body to assure himself you were safe. He then came around to your face to send his confusion there and you tapped the rebreather in hopes he would understand that it was the thing giving you the ability to breathe.

Though there was no pupil to tell for sure, you saw him study the way the bubbles would emerge from it and he was satisfied even if the mechanics were lost on him. Doing your best to stay submerged, you kicked lightly against one of his thighs to give yourself momentum and he gave immediate chase to twirl around you with ease. You watched the sun’s rays shine off of his scales as he twisted and the whole of him was so stunning you felt like time slowed.

In a quick spin, he spiraled the water and a little current twirled you around him. He seemed to similarly be enjoying the view because he stilled momentarily before he came into you with purpose. Finally catching your body, he held loosely to your hips and you reached between you to grab his cock sleeve. With learned ease, you undid the latch and pulled it enough away that it’d float to the top. Some sort of mechanism Donnie had installed, you both watched the object fly to the yellow tinted sky before you came together.

Donnie had some swipes and bobs to him as he cascaded around you and tugged you to the bottom. Not deep enough for the pressure to really shift, you still had a bit of anxiety and snuck a glance up to see how far you’d have to swim if something were to happen to the rebreather. Donnie nuzzled between your shoulder blades as you did and you read the move as soothing. His palms slid up and down your arms as if testing and he soon settled himself behind you for what you’d seen to be the preferred positioning.

Preparing yourself, you knew he’d bite you to hold you in place. His beak skimmed up from your back towards your mating mark and you arched into him to show you were ready. He only brushed the spot before nuzzling into the side of your face and you felt a sort of heated confusion as his cockhead bobbed eager against your ass. The water filled your ears for a near soundless churning and you could only look at your partner confused.

He held a knowledgeable air as if this were his field of expertise and he disappeared from your line of vision. Still behind you, you felt him cascade down your arms with tiny pumps of his body to keep you both submerged and in place. Now at the pond’s floor, it kicked up some silt and you closed your eyes to save them. It enhanced his little touches and he trended toward your sides. He then gripped hard which you took as a signal of readiness and he trended his glans down your ass crack to what lay beneath.

You flexed your thighs in a tease and he wasn’t the least bit perturbed to stroke himself with those as opposed to your sex. He pumped a few lazy times where his glans breathed life between your legs. Your body heat coaxed them to spread, but the moment he pushed through to the other side, the cold water caused them to recede and you chanced looking down to see it. It came with stinging around the murky water, but you watched the gabbing nature of his spade shaped head flex.

It had you spreading on a backstroke where you let your eyes closed in time with him lining himself up. He swiped heavy, dragging his awaiting glans over the full of your slit before he pushed to find your entrance. It split for him ready with the water and titillating excitement of doing the deed underwater and you felt him press in at an achingly slow pace.

Unlike his usual rutting self, you squirmed at the fill and it almost seemed like he wanted to take his time in setting his spread glans. All to lock you best, he eventually settled himself deep inside and you thought you could almost feel the stretched prongs of his glans catch your pulsing walls. They’d hold you tight and ensure you’d be bred and you whine heavily into your rebreather.

It resulted in bubbles tickling your cheek and you felt some motion. That meant you couldn’t open your eyes and you were lowered until the soft mud at the bottom claimed your torso. Supple, it clung to your pointed nipples as Donnie settled above in his mount. He was using the whole of him to keep your body in place and with a few little kicks to make sure his cock was as deep as it would go, he stilled.

You waited.

You waited for a thrust.

You waited for a push.

You waited for any movement at all.

Instead he held his position firm.

You could almost feel the disturbed muck particles settle around you and there was something odd about the buoyancy. Donnie didn’t need to fight it for however his body was made up and only you had a metered weightlessness in comparison. He had you caged in place, with his plastron poured over your back and his arms holding your waist tight along with his cock. A decorated aquarium, you were the free floating plant whose roots were woven into the bespeckled rocks.

Then you felt a slow gurgle of heat.

Something like the trickle of a tapped spring, there was no eager rush but instead the tap had been turned on low. Your cunt clenched near the source and it took you a few seconds too long to realize it was his cum. A little more than the anticipatory leak, it reminded you of the way he held you down. A relaxed pace was set and it poured an even stream. He wasn’t desperate to dump as much into you as fast as possible as if you’d escape.

The implications struck you.

You weren’t just held in place, you were stuck.

There was no exact reason for it, but something about the persistent, but slow fill made you believe he was going to hold you here for however long he was able.

In any of your studies, had you ever looked into how long underwater mating took place?

You couldn’t remember it.

All the articles had been so clinical.

Parks service notes or wildlife examinations weren’t some kind of porno.

Donnie hadn’t stopped ejaculating.

You were already submerged, but something about the whole thing made you feel as though you were trapped in a small room rapidly filling with water.

You squirmed the slightest amount and it proved to be the only wrong action because Donnie’s teeth warned at your shoulder.

Your heart thumped loud in your packed ears.

This was different than marking possession.

He hadn’t bitten you because he hadn’t felt the need.

You hadn’t fought back so he hadn’t felt compelled to hold you in place more than necessary.

You were stuck and couldn’t move.

Fear lighting up receptors in your brain and body, you shuddered ever so slightly and Donnie only boxed you more in as if you were cold.

You wanted to whine.

More bubbles appeared from your mask as your breathing picked up.

Cum continued to pour in.

No, pour was too fast.

Trickle was too slow.

Labeling it felt like palming metaphorical prison walls. You were looking for the escape hatch or even a barred window to shove your face into for a single breath of fresh air. It would stave off your eventual drowning. This was a puzzle. You only needed to find the key out. You were stuck in an escape room, except the means to succeed felt like fertilization.

Your cunt pulsed at the thought and you could feel Donnie’s churr more than hear it through the water.

Stuck for what felt like a long haul, your eyes cracked open to find the dust had actually settled. You were topped at the bottom of a pond and the weight of the water was a caressing one. An odd partner to Donnie’s heat, it was the good cop that told you niceties as Donnie’s cock threatened otherwise. Tossed out praises of plump stomachs and waddling walks were contrasted by a nine month sentence and you wanted to sob.

You’d asked for this.

You initiated underwater sex.

It wasn’t anything like you imagined.

The flow continued.

Even and determined, you felt it fill your baby room and then inflate against his cock. The other fat intruder in your space, it felt no need to breathe and welcomed the suffocation. It held as a tight seal and presumably the feeling of his own body-warmed spunk caused Donnie to readjust.

A barely there press of his hips, he made sure he had you sealed up the best he could without his knot.

It was his spread holding him fully and nothing could wrench it from you.

With no off switch, the dump persisted.

It grew like a lead weight inside you and you eventually felt as though it was the thing holding you down. Pressure mounting by the second, your other organs felt like they were being shoved out of the way and you desperately wished you could pant. Losing sanity for no exact reason, you dug your teeth hard into the rubber seal of your rebreather. Both to keep it in place and to keep yourself from lashing out, you clawed your nails into the ground where they were free.

Donnie adjusted again and movement felt like steam escaping a pressure cooker.

Sperm would have floated thick from where it was desperate to escape.

He then clogged the leak and relaxed to keep forcing more into you.

You spasmed.

Not involuntary, but because you thought you might burst, Donnie immediately made good on his biting promise.

It came directly to your mating mark and it took the very last of your brain cells to keep from screaming the rebreather right out of your mouth. You were doomed to pop like a water balloon and your tears felt hot against the cool water.

It was everywhere.

All consuming.

Either water or cum.

With no end trying to invade you.

You imagined white particulates flowing from out the cracks of your nose.

The empty shell of your body bloated and sperm would emerge wherever it could.

Delirious and hot, you wondered why the you of just two days ago, wanted this.

Why had you recreated the point of fertilization over and over?

Why had you obsessed over sperm and egg?

It was too much.

It also hadn’t stopped.

It couldn’t have.

Not with the way you felt.

Not with all the heaviness of your hips.

Not with the way your body squashed like a seal against the slimy sea floor.

Your consciousness slipped.

Not passing out, but feeling as though you floated away from your body, you saw yourself mounted.

You saw the humanoid version of two softshells doing what nature compelled them.

They were settled and one would come away to grow the clutch.

You’d lay eggs near the shore where you’d dig into the same soft kind of soil you were currently buried.

Your hatchlings would fight free and you’d watch on, unable to help because that’s what instinct dictated.

They needed to fend for themselves.

Strong genes.

They’d survive.

You saw both the future and the current scene.

An odd diorama, the time now seemed as stuck as you.

The only darts were fish far away, only now brave enough now that the predator had settled.

There was also a sparkle of sunlight.

It was beautiful in a way.

It just never seemed to end.

The future tapered off, washed out by the water.

You didn’t know how much time had actually passed, but it seemed like an eternity until Donnie animated.

It slammed you right back into your body where you struggled as soon as he released you. In a flash, water rushed around you like a geyser and you erupted onto the bank. Spitting out the rebreather, You gasped, starving, on fresh air and couldn’t manage to get off your dense belly. Elbows sinking into the wet shore, you coughed for the sake of it and only felt a dribble ooze between your legs.

You imagined that would be as endless as whatever you endured.

Numb and weak, you gave up clawing to collapse.

Cheek in mud you’d kicked up, the biodome was blissfully unaware to your plight and continued on as a luxurious space.

Something scalding splashed your lower back.

First a jolt to your oddly taxed body, it melted muscles that had been stationary until you put together what it was.

As much as he designated his turtle status, he’d still spoken of marking once.

Fulfilling one feral instinct must have bred another.

He peed out a surprising amount considering he hadn’t taken a drink, but you also hadn’t seen him use the restroom since his heat started. Stuck on what seemed like a conundrum, you could think of how that’d make it especially potent. Other than touch, little more came to your dulled senses and you almost enjoyed the heat of it. Unlike the one that had scorched the earth of your interior, this one mimicked hot stones that your battered body almost needed.

Flowing along your spine, it pooled warmth in the dip in the lowest part of your back. Stopped by your butt, it trailed to the sides where it dripped off. Not clingy, the cascade then disappeared and you supposed there was a certain level of intimacy to this. Something about sharing fluids and then the larger idea of marking that appealed to Donnie made sense.

The stream stopped and you could almost see Donnie lost with the whites still consuming his eyes from dark urges.

He then appeared to prove you wrong and you only stared at him with a murky gaze. He dipped his beak down to nudge you. You made some sort of sound and it must have been a worrisome one. You also hadn’t moved which was probably troubling for him. He was gentle in pulling you further up the bank.

The drag made you feel like you were trailing white slime.

You were a slug and the sun was just as intrusive as your partner.

They’d meant to eradicate you so you curled up into yourself and eventually something came overtop you.

It made no sense as to what, but the harsh light was offset so you gave up your last will and succumbed to sleep.

You never really dreamed during Donnie’s heat.

It was the first thought that occurred to you as you surfaced.

It felt like an ambiguous revelation and you groped for more.

It only resulted in grass between your fingers and a brush of fabric overtop.

That wasn’t your nest’s make-up.

Your eyes were open then and you saw white cotton dyed with orange.

It took you a few more seconds to blink off exhaustion and pull down the sheet that had been thrown over your body. The dome’s lattice sat dutifully overhead, but the sun was no longer glaring you down. It was gone somewhere, walking its usual trip across the sky and ready to clock out.

You never had asked Donnie if anyone in the upper floors could see down in here.

It seemed like a moot point as you’d already been naked for days, but you still wondered.

With an ache, you sat up from sleeping on the hard ground and felt your abdomen pulse.

Reaching down and pressing a hand to the usual curve of it, it didn’t seem out of sorts, but the memories of what had transpired underwater rushed you.

You then snapped side to side where you found Donnie awake, laying beside you, and patiently monitoring.

You tackled him onto his carapace and shouted in his face, “What was that?!”

He peeped, unsure.

“That was so much!” You released him and hovered over top. “Too much cum!”

His head lifted to watch you closely.

“Where do you keep it all?” You felt crazed and fell onto your hip beside him.

Freed, he perked further up and his gaze roved as he examined you.

You caught his chin and tipped him up to kiss him. His muscles went slack against you and you had to chase him back down to the ground. You felt a similar toll on him and gave up making sense of it all. Donnie was his own kind of being and, while you could make educated guesses, he couldn’t be so easily compared.

You pressed with purpose, trying to siphon a response from him where he could not. He allowed it and stunted churrs broke as he lost oxygen during each kiss. It caused him to pant against you where you swallowed up his sounds with a dip of your tongue. Siphoning off this life force in contrast to the one he’d forced into you, you wound your tongue around his with desperation.

Each time you came up he squeaked and gasped against the supposed suffocation. “You literally spent hours fucking me underwater. Don’t pretend like you can’t breathe.”

You scolded him with your tongue and teeth and he met you with as much open mouth enthusiasm as he could muster. However the act was conveyed to him, he clearly found it a pleasurable one and you were moving farther onto his plastron to get the necessary height. He then chased you on one of your head lifting retreats and you berated him by crushing him down into the grass.

He churred needy, but you made out at most, until he began to chirp deliriously.

Only then did you finally throw a leg over his torso.

The sides of his plastron nipped your thighs and he nervously palmed your hips to push you down where he needed you.

Biting down on his tongue for a hard suck, he gave a sharp mating call and finally you slid far enough back.

You bumped each other in a grab to unlatch the sleeve.

Once freed it was a quick lift and drop before his cock was buried into you.

Muscles battered, you wilted slightly and he lifted up to bend and chase your lips.

You caught his head the best you could to drink him in and upon the next slide of your tongue against his, he came hard and fast.

Moaning into his mouth, your eyes rolled back. “How-!?”

He ground you down onto him and shoved his mouth open against yours.

“-does-?” A press stole your words and you kissed him the best you could under his insistence. “-this turn you on? You don’t even get it-!”

He refused to let you have more and you toppled over where he began to roll his hips straight through his orgasm.

He was perfectly positioned and the ache of having never cum crushed you with a million times more force than the pond ever had. “Oh, fuck! Donnie!”

Another mating call for your excitement, you found your arms and encircled him to hold on.

He readjusted himself for an even better connection and you cried out his name again and again as targeted pleasure wound.

With a slight nudge to your cheek, you turned into him and he kissed you.

While nothing had, you felt like everything stopped.

You then watched as Donnie pulled his head back to look you over with a semi-focused gaze. “G-good…”

“D-Donnie?!”

For however he was there, he also wasn’t and curled closer to you. “Mm, feels good, love.”

“Donnie!” You pulled him into another kiss and he gave it with practiced ease.

He mewled a little to reluctantly part. “You… okay?”

“Good, so good! Is it… is your heat almost over…? It hasn’t been long at all!” You sent your attention downward and didn’t feel the thick of his knot.

“Hmm?” He drew out the hum and dipped his arms to hike your legs up.

It sent him to even more of your favorite spots and you babbled how much you missed it.

“Good mate.” He groaned, feeling you squeeze him. “A-Amazing.”

“I-“ Your voice bobbed with your body. “-don’t-” You felt your chest bounce. “-understand!”

“Gonna cum for me…?” He slurred affection.

“M-missed you!” You tried to find a better hold on him as your orgasm loomed close. “I missed you! I missed you!”

“Missed…” The word struck him odd and his hips didn’t stop, but his brow ridge creased. “M-mating…season…?”

“Yes!” You sobbed in pleasure and response.

“Are you…?” He seemed to look you over with the most comprehension yet.

“Good! Incredible! We’re good! So, so good! It’s been the best!!” You were so close you felt your neurons misfiring on your tongue.

“My heart…” With a final hoist of your legs, he plowed your g-spot and you came hard.

It wrung your mind out and the dripping wet juices came down in your vision as cerebral stardust.

“Love you!” He shouted through the void.

“L-love!!” You drooled and felt him grunt with his own orgasm.

No knot.

All you could think was his knot hadn’t expanded.

What did come down was the drawbridge of his body.

Moat accessible, you were still cozy in the castle and panted after what felt like a triathlon.

The rush of your own blood ringing in your ears, the weight of your mate became too much and you gave a wobbly push with your arms against his.

He gave a broken chirp and abated some of his weight where he didn’t seem able to fully retreat.

“Do-nnie…!”

He chirped again and nosed close to you.

You tilted your head to find darkened eyes staring back. “Don…?”

His lids closed as if he hadn’t heard you.

He’d surfaced for only a moment, a dull thought came.

You had no idea why, but he’d momentarily come to.

What a nice surprise.

In and out of attention, you were eventually carried back to the nest. Placed with as much care as incoordination could afford, you curled up against a pillow. Donnie kicked up some things for the sake of it and eventually settled down beside you with a few exhausted cheeps.

You mostly slept until a few hours before your call with S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.

Scheduled for noon day five, you had a lot of cleaning up to do when you woke. There was the fact that you’d tracked half the pond’s mud into your otherwise pristine nest. Donnie had a minor fit over you tossing brown stained sheets, but settled when you brought in the new ones that he had scented prior for this instance. You were barely able to keep him from mucking those up and somehow got him to rinse off in the outdoor shower.

With him mostly clean, he scampered off where his mind demanded he fix his nest and you took your turn. Actually washing yourself in contrast to your mate, you found the tenderness where he’d bitten your shoulder the day before. It was sadly left subjected to its environment so you scrubbed as best you could and hoped those antibiotics worked amongst the pond scum. Refreshed, you hung a towel over your head and air dried while you downed water like you hadn’t had one in days and ate with a sudden starvation that you hadn’t known was percolating.

Donnie’s season was something else and you were perched on a pillow right at the edge of the nest when you dialed your phone.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. picked up after one ring. “Good news!?”

You leaned away from his volume. “Hey, Shelly.”

“Y/N!”

“What do you even mean by that?” You chuckled and toed at where Donnie was laid out by your feet.

Your mate looked at you with a sleepy expression from all his hard nest work.

“I mean…!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. started and stopped. “I mean I guess you did call me exactly on time so that’s a good sign.”

“It’s going good?” You clarified.

“Yeah?”

“Yup, everything accounted for minus Donnie killing a fish and trying to give it to me like a cat and a whole underwater fiasco.”

“Did he Black Lagoon you?” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. fussed.

“No, no. It was a totally different thing you’ll think is gross, that we didn’t guess.”

“Oh huh…” Your son hummed.

“But food’s good. Water’s good. All supplies, yeah. I could crush some fast food, but that’s just like the ‘please feed me carbs’ side of my body from all the working out.”

“Hm, hm.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gave a scholarly hum.

“It’s good.”

“You sound happy.” He softened on the line.

“I am… Donnie… kind of… surfaced? Yesterday. It’s hard to explain, but he spoke and was present for a few minutes.”

“Weird!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. stretched the word out.

“Yeah. Now he’s back to being his old feral heat self though.” You finally reached him in a stretch and he gave a faint chirp as you tapped his arm.

“Gotcha! Well… I don’t want any details so as long as you both are happy…!”

You laughed. “Thank you for worrying.”

“Yup! Always!”

“We’re still having our Donnie-free weekend after this?”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. revved so loud you could hear it. “Yes! You owe me!! Sleep over at my house!!!”

“I do. After the hospital and the whole you not being able to come over because Leo is terrified of you.”

“He cried like a baby!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. sang. “He’s so funny.”

“Shelly!” You pretended to scold. “Stop! He was a broken man!”

“Broken man scared of a kid like half his age!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. cackled.

You booed him.

Coming down from clucks, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. sighed. “Yeah, well. He’s fine now so whatever! Anyway, we’re gonna have so much fun! Play all the video games! Make up for lost time!”

“Why do I feel like by lost time you mean all the way back to when you weren’t ever a baby.”

“Okay, I may have one or two story books…”

“My wicked son.”

“My patient mother!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. cooed back.

You chuckled.

“Plus, isn’t it practice?”

“Hopefully not anytime soon.” You tapped Donnie again and this time his lids stayed shut.

“Yeah, but still.”

“Nah. You aren’t practice. You’re my first.”

The quiet ticked on for so long that you pulled your phone away to make sure the call was still connected.

“Shelly?”

“I-I-I-!” He blubbered.

You weren’t sure if that was good or bad. “You okay? I’m sorry if I said something wrong…”

“No!” He hiccupped and snorted as if he had a congested nose.

You made a sad, unsure sound.

Donnie’s head came up.

“No, no!” You heard a clink of metal and imagined S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was wiping his face. “I’m not upset! I guess… I guess I just always thought… I mean our family thing has always been a joke so… Is calling you ‘mom’ insensitive? What am I-!?”

“It’s not a joke!”

He quieted.

“It was… Obviously, it was at first, but Shelly, you are my son. I don’t care. I’ll sign the adoption papers even though you’re an adult. If anything were ever to happen to Donnie and me…” You stared hard at Donnie who’d come closer as the conversation turned. “Even if we stopped dating, you’d still be my son. Even if you moved on, I think I’d always think of you that way.”

There was another bout of silence and you felt anxious.

Donnie rested his chin against your thigh.

You pet him reassuringly.

“I-I’m so-sorry…!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. eventually choked out.

“No, I am. I’m upsetting you and I can’t be there to-!”

“No!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. screamed off the speaker before he returned. “No! All these ‘no’s haven’t been complaints! I don’t know how to process this! I’m saying stop being sorry! I’m overwhelmed! These emotions are confusing and new!!”

“O-oh…”

“Yeah!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. came down with a huff of air though none of it translated on the receiver. “I love it. I love you. I’m just… you know, experiencing familial emotions for the first time in my life and freaking out a little!”

“Ah!”

“Yeah!”

“I want to apologize again!”

“Don’t!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. sighed. “It’s good… Ugh I feel weird though. I like, want to run around, but I also don’t so it’s all… ew!”

“Gross human feelings.” You chastised. “Like love!”

“Yeah.”

“Welcome to… being a child? Or having a family? Which sounds better?”

“Both?” He seemed just as unsure.

“You going to be alright?”

“Yes!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. scoffed. “It’s a happy thing! Just weird! New weird!”

You smiled. “Okay, okay. Text me if you need anything.”

“That should be my thing! Stop! Subverting our cool new official roles!”

“You’re not some caregiver!”

“Blah blah blah!! No more emotions thank you! I’m hanging up! Love you! Bye!”

“Love you too! Bye-!”

He hung up.

You pulled the phone away and laughed as it timed out.

Donnie chirped curiously beside you.

“Our son is so much like us and not.” You tucked the phone away and then scooped up your mate’s face. “That’s being parents, I guess.”

Donnie churred a little even though his face said he was confused.

You kissed the tip of his nose. “Look at you. You weren’t threatened by the phone call at all. You’re so comfortable now! You don’t even get jealous of Shelly anymore!” Throwing your weight, you bowled him over.

He fell with you, chirping happily in the sheets.

“I’m proud of you. Proud to be with you.” You told him as you came down.

He leaned forward obviously ready to receive a kiss.

“I’d be more proud if you could figure out something simple like kissing back!” You shook your head and gave him one anyway.

He gave a mating call against your lips and you returned it into his face. You moved to wrestle him and he was in just the right mood for it. Tumbling, there was a distinct lack of sexual drive to it and he only gave into being playful with you. You giggled all the while and he eventually collapsed back to let you win which you nipped at him for. He clicked a protest, but it devolved into happy chirps as you threw a pillow over his face.

You lasted a few hours until you made love again and it felt like a whole affair. Intimate and careful, there were contrasts amongst the drive. You weren’t sure if the last time had been such a blur or if this was the true norm, but you cherished every second. You got to watch the deep satisfaction pass over your mate’s face during his release and you etched it into your mind. The whole of him was yours and you cradled him close long after he’d given up chirping curiously at your subdued change.

When you awoke late that night, you were buried in a divot that had both of you pressed flush. With a bit of sheet pulled up to protect you from his pectoral scutes, you were otherwise tucked in together and you looked up at his sleep slack face. Feeling then specifically how connected you were, you nudged him lightly if only for him to see it as well.

He roused first with a few concerns, then surveying your happy mood brought sugary churrs. You kissed into his cheek lazily and pressed close to him. In a thump, you sensed your hearts beating together and you knew this would carry far beyond when Donnie’s season ended. Like last time, he’d known you’d drawn closer, but this time he would understand why. He’d know as soon as he saw you consciously that any separation that had still been lingering was eradicated. There was no longer some distinction between him and this supposed other persona. You were all his on all levels and nothing more would pull you apart.

💜NEXT💜

Never enough love for all that my betas put up with @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

#weakspotfic #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 7 months

Text

everything that rises | charles leclerc

🏎️ synopsis: cecilia and charles were once inseparable friends, sharing the same dream of working in formula 1, but a disagreement drove a wedge between them. years went by, and the two lost touch. now charles is a ferrari driver and cece is a stats analyst at red bull racing. warnings: childhood friends to enemies to lovers; angst; minors dni. (W.C. 4k)

| the playlist |

"Remain true to yourself, but move ever upward toward greater consciousness and greater love! At the summit you will find yourselves united with all those who, from every direction, have made the same ascent. For everything that rises must converge."

Part 1 — Where did all the years go?

I was a child once.

Those were the days of our picnics, when we scattered old blankets across the grass in my backyard and surrendered ourselves to the endless expanse of the sky. Hours would slip away, and time would become an afterthought as we lay there.

My mother would prepare us a feast. She would cook plates of succulent chicken, pasta dripping with rich, homemade tomato sauce, and potatoes crisped to perfection. But the real stars of our picnic were the sandwiches, meticulously crafted with layers of tender deli meats, crisp lettuce, and the tangy bite of mustard. To wash it all down, there was the cool, golden elixir of orange juice, poured into Disney character themed glasses that seemed bottomless in their generosity.

In that sun-drenched haven, every bite carried the weight of innocence and the taste of simpler times. Each bite transported us back to a place where the world was benevolent and the future an uncharted landscape filled with endless possibilities. Each and every bite had the taste of childhood and every gaze skyward a glimpse of eternity.

Yet, amidst the symphony of flavors and the warmth of the sun, what I remember most vividly is the sound of his laughter. It echoed through the air, a melodious tribute to our unbridled joy. It was a laughter that mingled with the rustling leaves, harmonized with the distant chirping of birds, and danced in the interplay of sunlight and shadows.

The memory of his laughter takes me to our old secret world, hidden away from the watchful eyes of adulthood. We would slip into our racing suits with the same eager anticipation we had reserved for our favorite childhood games. The rubbery scent of the helmets and the squeak of gloves being pulled on marked the transformation from ordinary mortals to speed-seeking daredevils.

The karts, vibrant and sleek, stood in readiness. Each curve was a ballet of precision and speed, a dance we had rehearsed countless times before. The thrill of victory, the fear of defeat, and the unspoken camaraderie bound us together, making us push the limits of our machines and our own abilities.

Growing up, Charles was always the color red, vibrant and full of life, while I was the color blue, calm and introspective.

Charles embodied the fiery spirit of red — bold and adventurous. He could light up a room with his presence, his laughter ringing out like a joyful melody. Red was the color of his enthusiasm and his unwavering determination to chase his dreams.

I, on the other hand, gravitated toward the soothing embrace of blue. I was the quiet observer, the one who found solace in introspection and the gentle cadence of the world around me. Blue was the color of my contemplation, my affinity for art, and my penchant for delving into the depths of my thoughts.

At home, seated in front of the television watching F1, he pointed at our idols and said:

"Someday, that will be us!"

We became teenagers after that.

We wouldn’t laugh as hard because, you know, it wasn’t cool. Mom would still make those same sandwiches and they tasted exactly the same.

Those were the years we started growing apart. But if you asked me then, I would have bet my life that we would remain close friends forever.

“Remember when…”

That's how all our conversations began. Remember the pillow forts? The ridiculous arguments that ended in tears and laughter? Remember the candy that only appeared on Christmas? My God, do you remember Christmas?

We stopped making new memories.

Shortly after that, we had a fight.

I remember the words, fragmented and disjointed. It began with a misstep, a clumsy remark, and the spark ignited. The exchange of words grew sharper, laced with the bitterness of misunderstanding.

I have long forgotten if it was something I said, a careless word or something I’ve done – maybe a thoughtless action. I don’t know what he saw that made him feel so much disgust for me.

Because he was supposed to stay in my life forever. Charles had been woven into the very fabric of my existence, an inseparable part of me. So I said to him, "I'm sorry."

And I continued to extend apologies. Each “I'm sorry” was a desperate attempt to mend what was broken, to bridge the chasm that had suddenly yawned between us.

But Charles, his anger still smoldering, met my apology with silence.

And then, the silence fell like an impenetrable veil. Charles stopped talking to me.

He no longer responded to my texts.

Time flowed on, relentless and unyielding, and before I knew it, our teenage years had slipped through my fingers like grains of sand.

College became my new reality, and I embarked on a journey that led me to graduate with a degree in data analytics. It was a world of numbers, algorithms, and logic, a far cry from the carefree days of picnics and karting.

The memories of those sandwiches, once a cherished taste of innocence, had blurred into oblivion. I couldn’t remember what they tasted like. The words we used to share, the stories and secrets that once bound us, had dissolved like whispers in the wind.

In the ever-advancing march of time, I became an adult, charting my own path in a world where the laughter of my dear friend had become a distant echo.

There’s a long list of songs that I’ll never listen to again, they remain etched in my memory, melodies that Charles introduced me to — the notes that accompanied our whispered confidences.

When he departed from my life, when I reluctantly let him slip away, he carried with him more than just his presence. He took with him a trove of treasured memories, moments of joy and connection that were now irrevocably severed.

It was as though I had surrendered a piece of my own soul, willingly letting go of the incredible gifts he had bestowed upon me.

The movies we used to watch together. Our secret codes. Our special places — all of these now lay dormant, waiting to be rekindled by the spark of his return.

I think about him every time I go to the beach.

Of all the people who had drifted out of my life, Charles was the most difficult to move on from. His absence cast a long shadow over my days, and the ache of missing him lingered like an unhealed wound.

Part 2 — We’ll never be those kids again.

The ache of losing Charles never truly subsided. In a cruel twist of fate, he remained a constant presence in my life, his voice echoing in the corners of my mind, a haunting reminder of what we once had. It was as though he had never truly left, and his absence had become an ever-present, silent specter.

The years passed and Charles and I reached the peak of our respective careers. Our paths continually converged, not by chance, but by the magnetic pull of shared ambition and relentless determination.

Everything that rises must converge.

As fate would have it, Charles realized his lifelong dream, ascending to the position of Ferrari's number one pilot, while I, working at Red Bull, helped orchestrate the collective genius that propelled our team to the summit of the sport.

Our paths, once so intertwined, had now diverged into two different realms of Formula 1 excellence.

Every day, I had to navigate the treacherous terrain of our shared world. Going to work became a minefield of emotions, a tightrope walk of avoidance. I watched my every step to shield myself from the painful sight of his face. The mere prospect of crossing paths with him was a torment I couldn't bear.

He was everywhere, woven into the fabric of my daily existence, an inescapable ghost haunting my every moment. Each reminder of his presence, every trace of his existence, felt like a dagger in my heart, a constant, gnawing pain that refused to relent.

I yearned for closure, for the opportunity to attempt the difficult task of moving on. But with him perpetually in my midst, I remained trapped in a state of perpetual longing and unresolved emotions. His lingering presence, both a blessing and a curse, had become a prison from which I couldn't break free.

The ghost of our friendship continued to haunt me, and the weight of his ever-presence threatened to suffocate me. It was a torment that knew no bounds, a relentless battle between the past and the present, and I found myself caught in its merciless grip, yearning for the solace of closure that remained agonizingly out of reach.

And then, the Monaco Grand Prix after-party incident unfolded.

Amid the glittering extravagance of the Monaco night and the boisterous revelry of a crowded party, where luxury cars lined the streets like jewels and the Mediterranean moonlight cast an enchanting glow, the dimly lit room swayed to the rhythm of mirth and the clinking of glasses and the scene was set.

As the hours slipped by, the influence of alcohol cast a hazy, intoxicating spell.

In this whirlwind of emotions and blurred boundaries, I found myself inexorably drawn to Charles, as I had countless times before. Perhaps it was the liquid courage coursing through my veins, or perhaps it was the persistent undercurrent of our unspoken connection that had grown increasingly difficult to ignore.

With a half-empty glass in hand, he approached me, a crooked smile playing on his lips. My eyes, sparkling with the same intoxication that infused the room, met his in a moment of shared recognition.

"You know," he began, his words slightly slurred, "you're really, really pretty."

Our laughter, like music in the night, rang out as I tilted my head in amusement. "Well, thank you," I replied, the warmth of a blush coloring my cheeks. We haven't spoken privately in years.

His gaze remained fixed on me, his words sincere amidst the alcohol-induced haze. "I wish... I wish I could meet you for the first time tonight," he confessed, his voice carrying a hint of longing.

The admission hung suspended in the atmosphere. In that fleeting moment, the past and the present converged, and the burden of unspoken grief simmered beneath the surface, a pain that could never be relieved.

We stood like two lost souls in the heart of a tempest, caught in a moment of naked vulnerability and raw despair. It was a confession that held the promise of unattainable redemption, a fervent wish that whispered of a future forever denied by the inescapable weight of our sorrow.

And in that fragile, alcohol-soaked moment, the boundaries between yesterday and today blurred, leaving us both to ponder what might have been if we were, indeed, allowed to commence anew — an agonizing reminder of the happiness we once shared, now seamlessly forever lost.

Our lips met in a moment of vulnerability, an impulsive act. The taste was bittersweet, a fusion of longing and confusion. But as our mouths sought solace, an overwhelming realization washed over us.

Regret, like a bitter aftertaste, flooded our senses. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

In that fleeting embrace, we had crossed a line that should have remained unbroken. Our eyes met, mirroring the profound disappointment that now hung heavily between us. It was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment that threatened to shatter the fragile equilibrium we had struggled to maintain.

As we pulled away, the weight of our actions settled upon us like a heavy cloak, suffocating the intimacy we had once cherished. We stood in silence, our regrets echoing in the stillness of the room, a painful reminder of the irrevocable damage we had inflicted upon our precious bond.

It was a kiss that should never have happened, an ill-fated attempt to recapture something we had lost. And now, the bitter taste of regret lingered on our lips, a constant reminder of the irreversible mistake we had made.

Part 3 — You texted me at midnight.

In the aftermath of the ill-fated kiss, regret was a constant companion, a shadow that cast a pall over our interactions, a reminder of the irreversible mistake we had made. I retreated into the solitude of my own thoughts. I couldn't help but wonder if our connection was destined to remain in this purgatory of regret and unresolved emotions. The echoes of our teenage years had returned to haunt us, a reminder that some wounds, once reopened, could never fully heal.

We couldn't bear to acknowledge the vulnerability we had exposed in each other, and so, instead, we channeled our frustration into a bitter exchange of words and glances.

On the paddock, where our professional lives intersected, we found ourselves caught in a never-ending cycle of snarky comments and pointed remarks. Every interaction was laced with resentment, as if our anger had become a protective armor against the discomfort of our shared mistake.

We exchanged angry looks, each one a silent accusation, a reminder of the blame we had heaped upon each other. It was a dance of frustration and hurt, a toxic cycle that neither of us could break free from.

The tension between us was palpable. Our anger and blame had become a wall, a barrier that kept us at arm's length from each other, a defense mechanism against the pain of our own regret.

Pierre, our only remaining mutual friend, had mustered the courage to ask:

"So," he began tentatively, "what happened between you two?"

We sat in his living room. The walls displayed abstract art and a minimalist charcoal-gray sofa took center stage. A low, polished coffee table featured art books and a sculptural vase with white lilies, floor-to-ceiling windows framed a city panorama, with navy silk curtains adding drama.

I sighed, my eyes drifting to the floor as I searched for words that would capture the complexity of our situation. "Why don't you ask him?" I countered, my voice tinged with bitterness.

Pierre gave me a knowing look. "I did," he admitted, his frustration evident. "And he said the same thing."

Pierre hoped he could jolt me out of my impasse, force me to confront the truth that had remained buried beneath layers of anger and resentment.

"I thought you had gotten over it," he said, his voice tinged with exasperation. "That little feud. We're adults now, how come you two are still fighting?"

I sighed, the bitterness of our ongoing conflict gnawing at me. "It's not that simple," I replied.

"But it's been years," he insisted.

I sighed, hesitating for a moment. "We kissed. In a moment of weakness. It was impulsive and... Wrong."

Pierre's shock was palpable, his features frozen in a mixture of surprise and concern. "You mean... You and..."

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze. "Yes.”

He didn't press the matter further, however, Pierre couldn't help but give knowing looks whenever, for some reason, our paths crossed. Those glances were a reminder that he carried a secret with him

A text from Charles arrived unexpectedly, its arrival marked by the soft glow of my phone's screen in the darkened room. The clock showed me it was past midnight. The message, simple yet laden with unspoken questions, sent a jolt of surprise through me.

"I got your number with Pierre," it read, "Do you still think about me?"

Charles's question hung in the stillness of the midnight hour. Charles, the vibrant red to my calming blue, had reappeared in my life with an impossible question.

With a sense of trepidation and nostalgia, I began to compose my reply, knowing that the past and the present were converging once more, like the colors red and blue blending on an artist's canvas, creating a new and uncertain shade of emotion.

The words flowed from my fingertips in response to Charles's late-night text, a confession that I had held in my heart for years. "I never stopped thinking about you," I typed, my words echoing the truth that had lingered in the corners of my mind.

The message hung in the digital space between us. In those few words, I had bared my soul, revealing the depth of my emotions and the unspoken longing that had persisted despite the passage of time.

As I hit send, I couldn't help but wonder how Charles would respond to my confession.

Charles's response came swiftly, his words laden with a mix of longing and unresolved emotions. "I never stopped thinking about you either," he admitted, his vulnerability shining through the text message. "I want to kiss you again. Is it weird that I'm still angry at you?"

The weight of his words settled over me like a heavy blanket. It was a confession that mirrored my own feelings.

As I considered my reply, I knew that our reconnection had opened a Pandora's box of emotions. The desire to kiss him again was tempered by the knowledge that the past could not be erased, and the anger we both felt was a testament to the wounds that had yet to fully heal.

"I'm still angry too," I replied, my fingers hesitating over the keys. "I hate you for every single one of our birthdays that we spent apart."

"I'm a bit drunk right now," Charles admitted, his honesty and vulnerability shining through, "I don't think I can handle this well. But please, let's talk tomorrow."

The admission of his inebriation added another layer of complexity to our conversation, a reminder that the emotions we were navigating were raw and unfiltered. Charles's request for a conversation the following day held the promise of a sober and more coherent exchange, a chance to delve into the depths of our feelings without the influence of alcohol.

So I agreed.

Part 4 — That’s it, it’s finally over.

The next day, Charles and I found ourselves at an al fresco restaurant in the heart of London. The table was meticulously set, bathed in the gentle, dappled sunlight that filtered through the lush canopy of trees overhead. Our tentative smiles were like fragile echoes of a bygone connection, softened by the clinking of cutlery and the distant murmur of conversations that framed our reunion.

I absently played with my napkin, my gaze drifting to the greenery surroundings that seemed to envelop us. Charles, his fingers tracing the rim of his wine glass, appeared equally preoccupied by the world beyond our secluded table.

Finally, Charles broke the ice, though his words carried an air of uncertainty. "It's a good weekend for Red Bull, right?" he ventured.

I played along, offering a light-hearted jest. "Maybe I can convince you to join us. The champions' side."

Charles's response came swift and unequivocal, like the snap of a whip. "I would rather lose at Ferrari than win anywhere else."

His words landed like a sharp blow to my chest. I found myself simply staring at him, the weight of his words settling upon me, forcing me to confront the truth I had long avoided.

And then, as if compelled by an unseen force, the words began to spill forth from my lips. "I could never be happy losing."

In that moment, our conversation had shifted, the undercurrent of our emotions resurfacing like a long-buried truth, leaving us both to grapple with the implications of our newfound understanding.

Charles's gaze remained averted, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance as if unwilling to meet mine. “We should talk about what happened.”

I nodded in agreement. "Yes, we should," I replied, my voice carrying a hint of hesitation.

The air around us grew heavy, tears welled in my eyes, their slow descent tracing a path down my cheeks.

"I hate that I have to see you all the time," I confessed, my voice trembling, "and I hate even more the fact that I'm not allowed to talk to you."

Charles finally turned to face me, his gaze locking onto mine with a vulnerability that mirrored my own. His hand reached across the table, tentatively finding mine, and a flush of warmth spread across my cheeks at his touch.

"You can talk to me," he reassured me, his voice a whisper in the intimate space between us. "I don't even remember why we stopped. I don't remember why we fought."

The tender caress of our entwined hands was a poignant reminder of the closeness we had once shared, the meal on the table long forgotten.

"I remember we yelled," I admitted, "and I never yelled like that at anyone before. I felt so awful for what I did to you. So I apologized, but you never responded."

Charles's eyes brimmed with remorse, his grip on my hand tightening. "I'm sorry," he murmured, the words carrying the weight of his own regret, "I'm so sorry. About the kiss too."

"You don't have to apologize for the kiss," I whispered, my voice barely above a hushed breath. My gaze was averted, fear of rejection gnawing at me, embarrassment coloring my cheeks.

"No?" Charles questioned, his hand tenderly tilting my face to meet his gaze.

"No," I confessed, my voice now filled with newfound confidence.

A playful smirk graced Charles's lips as he asked, "So is it okay if it happens again?" His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I saw the face of my friend — happy, just as I remember.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, a cascade of emotions swirling within me. I nodded, my heart pounding with agreement.

We both acknowledged the need for more privacy. Our stay in England was tied to work, so we made the decision to retreat to the muted solitude of my hotel room.

It was an adult decision, the hotel room was a cold and impersonal space, devoid of the warmth and familiarity of our cherished pillow forts. Its sterile decor and neutral palette seemed worlds away from the vibrant tapestry of our childhood adventures.

The environment in which we found ourselves was a stark contrast to the carefree days of our shared past, a visual and emotional testament to the changes that had occurred in our lives.

As Charles's hands traced delicate patterns on my body, it felt nothing like the innocent games of our youth, the boundaries between friendship and something more blurring with each passing moment. Our intentions were clear, and the space around us seemed to hold its breath, aware of the transformation that was unfolding between us.

"I've wanted this for so long," Charles confessed, his voice heavy with desire, after fervent kisses.

I tried to inject a hint of humor into the charged atmosphere, my nervousness evident. "You do know they say sex is the fastest way to ruin a friendship, right?" I quipped.

Charles responded with a lighthearted tone, but the truth in his words was unmistakable. "It's okay, we're not really friends anymore," he replied, his words carrying a weight that hung in the air.

In that moment, it dawned on me with a profound clarity. We truly weren't friends anymore, not in the way we had once been. We were two individuals who wanted each other, drawn together by desire and an unspoken longing.

As our lips met in more fervent kisses, years of unspoken longing and regrets melted away, replaced by the urgency of the present moment. The past had faded into insignificance, and the future remained uncertain, but in that moment, none of it mattered.

In the intimate confines of that hotel room, Charles and I succumbed to the pull of our desires, shedding the weight of unresolved history and embracing the present moment. The chemistry between us intensified, our bodies finding a rhythm that was as natural as it was passionate.

"I'm sorry," I thought I heard him say it in the midst of our shared passion. But in the quiet of that hotel room, we were both offering apologies with our bodies, each touch and caress a silent acknowledgment of the complex emotions that had brought us to this point.

Words had become superfluous, unnecessary in the language we were now speaking — a language of desire and understanding.

In the heat of the moment, we were both apologizing with our bodies, seeking solace and connection in the physical realm. It was an apology for the years of distance and misunderstanding, a silent reconciliation that transcended the spoken word.

As our bodies entwined, the burden of our past regrets melted away, evaporating into the hushed confines of the room. In its place, we found ourselves bathed in a profound sense of catharsis and renewal.

This was a moment of profound vulnerability, an unguarded authenticity that had eluded us for far too long. In the quiet aftermath of our intimacy, we lay together, wrapped in the warmth of our newfound understanding. The room bore witness to a testament to the power of connection to heal wounds and renew the bonds that had once defined us.

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #oc fanfiction #angst with a happy ending #friends to enemies to lovers

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chiruzzah · 3 months

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ANOTHER POST then ill shut up

i uhh recently watched luminescensesss (idk how to write it) recent story levels and that reminded me of my navigator star oc!! of course shes not official, and idk if her design is valid but ill post her aniway cus i love herr and im very pround of her design

her name is Mustard (so silly) and shes like an engineer who likes to build stuff. becuz she doesnt have all those cool powers. ill probably redesign her or rewrite her lel

she has a full gijinka ref but i think ill redo it cus the art is kinda old aaahh OKAY ILL SHUT UP NOW

#oc #ocart #sillyoc #project arrhythmia

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adobe-outdesign · 2 months

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I was reading your review on Shoyru and realized something I'm sure someone's already pointed out. In your list of dragon-like Neopets, Scorchio wasn't on there! Hopefully you'll tackle that one in a future review?

Scorchios are kind of your quintessential dragon Neopet. Compared to Shoyrus, Skeiths or Draiks, Scorchios don't have a super strong visual direction beyond just "bipedal dragon", which is a trait that also applies to the other three. I feel like if we're going to have four dragon pets they could've managed to vary them more, considering how many different types of dragons there are out there, but oh well.

From a visual standpoint, Scorchios have a pretty well-balanced design, detailed but not busy. They have a lined underbelly, some stripes on their wings that match the spikes on their backs and wings, and markings around their eyes.

My only visual complaint, outside of them being a bit generic, is that the peachy muzzle feels weird because it's too close to the yellow accent color to justify being a different color, and the yellow color itself is kind of a gross low-contrast mustard color instead of a nice cream or tan (the yellow Scorchio also has this color on its entire body instead of the more pure hue most yellow pets sport). Thankfully most colours fix this issue.

Scorchios also benefited from customization, even if they were saddled with a fist. The old art was incredibly dated, with little to no shading (look at those wings) and wobbly lineart. Outside of just improving the art, the customization version also fixes some of the wonkier aspects of the design, such as the weird leg anatomy, extremely tiny and dense tail spikes, and tiny eyes.

Favorite Colours:

Robot: Robot gets a spot here for not only being a good-looking colour in general, but also because you get a two-for-one deal due to the casings being removable. The cased version a perpetually pissed expression and a striking black and white Tron look, with a few dark grey and red accents. The lightbulb spikes are particularly delightful. The uncased version shows off the dark grey in full and also places more emphasis on the red accents (along with being less pissed).

Woodland: The woodland Scorchio is based off the rainbow eucalyptus, a plant that 100% looks fake but is very much real.

Not only does the dark base with green and red accents look particularly beautiful, but it also is a fun nod to the actual trees conceptually and makes for a memorable pet compared to the more generic wood-based ones. My only nitpick is that the leaf-wings don't really read as wings at all, and the random twig above the eye feels out of place and doesn't help with the wing issue. Still, it's very nice overall.

Candy: This one's relatively straightforward, but the pink and yellow palette is lovely, and the stripes really work well with the Scorchio's underbelly lines and pre-existing wing stripes. What I particularly like is that it actually has that very distinct lined texture that a lot of hard sweets have, which is detail they didn't have to add but I appreciate.

BONUS: Halloween got very close to being on the actual list, and I do really like its fun Jekyll and Hyde look, complete with skull cane (a nice way to use the fist) and formal attire. However, I had to knock it back a peg due to some weird details, like the hat absolutely not fitting the Scorchio's head correctly. The hands and feet also have fur, which not only feels random but really screws up the base color, which could've otherwise been a good option for customization in and of itself. The pink snout is also a little distracting, and probably would've worked better as a white to match the skull cane.

#neopets #neotag #scorchio #neopet reviews

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justsomekpopstuff · 7 months

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stray kids as a hockey team

current masterlist | fic recs

part 2

Bang Chan: Captain, defenseman, despite having extreme skill prefers staying back and helping his teammates shine, is usually pretty chill but the instant you pick on one of the younger ones on the team he will be coming after you full speed, is the one handing out gatorades and mustard packets on the bench to keep the team hydrated during games

Lee Know: starting goaltender, king of Weird Goaltender Energy™️, has pictures of his cats on his goalie mask AND in his locker, has tried to instigate fights on multiple occasions despite knowing its against the rules for goalies to fight, one of the most flexible goaltenders in the league and shows it off frequently, switches which hands his blockers and gloves are on regularly to throw off the other team

Changbin: alternate captain, defenseman, despite being the shortest is the strongest one on the team, and the hardest hitter, is regularly seen eating protein bars on the bench during games, you can hear him chirping the other team from all the way across the ice he's so loud, brings a small plushie with him on the road and no one is allowed to talk about it

Hyunjin: forward, is regularly in the running for the prettiest face in the league, regularly shows appreciation for fan signs near the ice, but also will critique their art skills, is the most elegant skater on the team and will twirl between opponents with ease, somehow is never late to practice despite sleeping through all his alarms, is the social media team's favorite

Jisung: forward, regularly sings his chirps towards the other team in a ridiculous announcer voice, has an ornate on-ice warm up ritual that involves skating circles around all his teammates while chanting their names, is regularly put in charge of mood-making in the locker room when the games aren't going well, and helped curate the team locker room playlist

Felix: forward, has created the most meme content for the team out of all the members, Bang Chan is his Emotional Support Defenseman™️, has gotten in trouble for kicking the puck to score one too many times (you can't do that), is the regular target for scare pranks despite hating it, uses his "mosquito sound" to piss off the other team during games

Seungmin: backup goaltender, easily one of the most underrated players on the team, regularly opens the door for his teammates during shift changes and gives them high fives, his locker is the most organized out of all the team, pretends to host a talk-show with his teammates on the bench during games, however, once he's on the ice, no one can deny his talent and skill

Jeongin: defenseman, the youngest on the team meaning he gets both teased and babied constantly, one time was the target of a particularly hard hit that knocked him down and it started an all out bench-clearing brawl between the two teams, regularly watches the little kids play games during intermissions, holds the team record for accidentally losing the most skate blades

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #my musings #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #felix #seungmin #jeongin

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rockingrobin69 · 8 months

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Wonder full (1)

It started with Ron’s idea for a thesis, and the fact they didn’t actually know a lot of people who used to be part of a white supremist cult and then left, and that Malfoy still lived in the country. In town, actually, in this crap of a flat above a chippy. Apparently the owner let him rent it for half price if he worked weekends. Apparently he did. And when Ron came back, two hours late with this strange frown, all he said was, “Whoa, mate.” And Harry decided that maybe he did sort of want to tag along after all.

Malfoy was different. Not only because he looked older, or because he sat on the floor with his legs crossed, or because of the piercings and the choker, or because he let his hair grow, wild and frizzy at his shoulders. Something… Harry didn’t know. Something hungry and a little loud about the way he kept his head down. The way he rambled one hundred miles a minute outside the interviews, the strange jokes he made and the way his eyes rounded, big and grey and startling. It was weird. He was weird. But he answered every single one of Ron’s questions, even the ones Ron hadn’t planned on asking. Even the ones that hung in the air. Even the one that made him go scary, that made him run to the loo with a hand over his mouth. He came back, half a weird smile on his face, and answered it too.

And Harry found the in-betweens interesting. Found himself asking Malfoy what he did the rest of the week (“butcher Italian art in the café across the street, you should come, it’d be horrible”); who was he still in contact with (“no one, I—don’t, ah, really, ah”); where did he get that tan (“a friend of a pal from work went bungee jumping so I begged them to take me? Never regretted anything more, apart from—well”). Found himself wanting to know. And the flat always smelled like chips, and Harry was perpetually hungry, and sooner than later he found himself going on his own, without Ron and the questions drilling into Harry’s scalp, festering in his brain.

Ron said Malfoy had actually volunteered. That he didn’t have to seek him out, Malfoy approached him through the university. It made sense, in a way, with this Malfoy: the Malfoy who couldn’t shut up for the life of him, who was constantly moving and buzzing and clicking. Would be annoying, but—Harry’s brain had been kind of quiet recently, and everyone around him seemed happy enough, or at least settled, and this heaped spoonful of Malfoy was a nice change of pace. With work, boring and safe and strangely continuous, with nights at Ron and Hermione’s or babysitting a quiet Ted twice a week, with always forgetting what kind of oat milk he liked and buying the wrong mustard. With life being, well, it. Nonstop and a bit bland. Malfoy was different, Malfoy was weird, and Harry liked it.

And there was the way he laughed. Loud, deranged, a little charming, and deranged. Like he didn’t know how to laugh. The crease between his eyebrows, like he wasn’t sure he was doing it right, the bubbling, like he didn’t care. It was a nice sort of laugh. Harry kept going.

He went sofa-searching with Malfoy when his old one gave out. Said he’d help him paint a chest of drawers Malfoy found on the street, begged him to chuck it when it proved half-eaten, roared with laughter when he tried, pink-cheeked, tongue between his teeth, to make it stand on three uneven legs. It wasn’t even funny, no idea why he was laughing. Only that there were tears in his eyes, and no breath left in his chest, and that Malfoy was radiant with something warm and weird and a little off.

“What?” he cried, flopping down on the rug. “Stop laughing, Potter! Honestly!”

But Harry couldn’t, waving his arms in big, apologetic flails. “Just throw the damn thing! You’re impossible.”

Malfoy smiled, that crooked line, small and weirdly alight. “No chance. There’s some potential there, I know it. I can almost, almost see it. Don’t you think it would look terrific right there?” pointing at an empty space on the opposite wall. Most of the flat was empty. Harry didn’t mind it so much anymore.

“I think the weevils claimed it first. Sorry.”

“Oh, no. We don’t have weevils. Potter, say we don’t have weevils.”

“What? Why?” the urgency in his voice made something stick in Harry’s throat, thick and jagged. Then an oomph as Malfoy fell on top of him, covering Harry’s mouth with a hand.

“Quick! Say it! Words are magic, we can’t take the risk! You have to say we don’t have weevils, you have to say it, say it, now,” but he was laughing like a maniac, and covering Harry’s mouth anyway, so Harry couldn’t say anything, do anything but laugh too, trying to push him off. Maybe not trying too hard. “Come on, Potter, say it, why aren’t you saying it, sayyy it—”

He finally managed a shove, and Malfoy rolled to the floor, hysterical. Harry wiped his cheeks, couldn’t get this foolish grin off his face.

“You’re barking,” he whispered, and it came out appreciative, fond. “Malfoy? Still alive?” only emitting these tiny noises, choked-off giggles, eyes closed behind a shaky hand. “Hey, you okay?”

“Wonderful,” Malfoy murmured, then swallowed. Sat up, looked around himself. Loud and a bit hollow. “Are you getting hungry? Bet you I could charm Mr. Picket for two sausage suppers.”

Harry sank against the sofa, this strange feeling in his belly. Content and fuzzy. Saturated or full of static or something.

“Yeah, I could do with some food. I can pay, though. Let me pay.”

“No need. Just sit back and watch a true master at work.” With a wink, Malfoy got up, and this sudden panic in Harry’s chest alarmed him silent. He realised he didn’t want to see Malfoy leave.

What a weird fucking thought to have.

This is the first part of act 1 of Wonder Full, posted on AO3. I'll be posting all 9 parts of the first chapter here too, or you can catch it on AO3 here.

#drarry fic #cross-posting #fluff and angst #AU - no magic #pining #oh no they were roommates #the pining one #(ha fucking ha. they're all the pining ones robin.

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macdennisofficial · 1 year

Note

any big predictions for s16

Whole season analysis incoming!!! Big wrinkly brain predictions that WILL happen mark my fucking words below!

First episode: The Gang Does Edibles for the first time. "wait a minute macdennisofficial," you say, "they smoked weed before and also crack and sniff glue??" Exactly. They ain't done edibles before.

So you know Frank is like I did Columbian bam bam with Vietnamese sweatshop kids and Dee and Dennis are like "we were legit crackheads before" and Charlie is like "haha I do inhalants so much I built up a tolerance to mustard gas" and Mac is like I am a drug dealer hello ??? They are all like "we are not pussies when it comes to weed we have taken fat ass bong rips so many times" so they just. Dump. Like a whole gallon of weed in the brownie mix. And then between the five of them eat the whole fucking pan to prove how not pussy they are.

Anyway so two hours later Dee "these edibles ain't shit" Reynolds is screaming hysterically and shitting her pants while clinging to the rooftop and staring at the sky, Frank is furiously fucking a rotisserie chicken while listening to sixties war protest rock and seeing colours and having Rambo First Blood flashbacks, Charlie sees everything like a cartoon and is a Disney prince(ss?) who can control rats and pigeons with his singing voice and also hallucinates a musical with the Gang, Mac literally sees God and speaks to him and fucks him. He just fucks God. Full penetration. And God is gay btw and played by Ryan Reynolds. In real life Mac is actually just like lying on the pool table staring at the ceiling light. With this huge stoner boner. Dennis is like weeping in the bathroom because Rick Astley is playing on the jukebox and it's so fucking beautiful and decides he wants to become an artist because the yuck puddle is so beautiful and he wants to commemorate it and it is talking to him

They all manage to meet at some point and talk to each other and hallucinate Charlie and the Chocolate Factory-esque shit together. Oompa Loompas look like Frank's sweatshop children and they sing "oompa loompa doopity doo what the fuck is wrong with all of you"

Episode two: They are discussing Kanye and how they need to separate the art from the artist because they voted for him but they can't support him now that he says all this anti Semitic stuff lately because they might get cancelled for liking him so they just cut all the pictures of Kanye out of the albums and posters and stuff they own and replace it with pictures of Pepperjack. This is especially important they vocally distance themselves from Kanye because Wolf Cola has used him for promotional ads. So they also have to cut ties with him professionally. It's all very selfish because they're concerned about their image.

Episode three: They make fun of Dee for calling herself a feminist even though she never passes the Bechdel test and they argue about how to pronounce it properly. She says she will pass it by the end of the day and she fails constantly but at the end of the episode she finds the Waitress and they talk about something other than men. She is excited and then Charlie is like; "What's her name? It only counts if you know her name." She doesn't know her name. It is titled Dee Fails the Bechdel Test. It is a Chardee themed episode, but they don't kiss or anything.

Episode four: We see the Gang's exploits from someone else's perspective. It is their fucking stalker. They have a stalker and they dont even know it. I mean this is like Joe from You styled narration and everything. The stalker has like Pepe Sylvia style pics on their wall connecting them to various crimes and shit in Philly and it's all true btw but the stalker gets arrested for stalking and attempting assassination (yeah, like an actual attempt at murder) and the Gang is like; "Who the fuck even are you?" despite this stalker being in their bar every day for like years. It is a fun episode because we see them in many mid-scheme situations with like no context.

Episode five: They try to reboot The Nightman Cometh because the find out they have fans because Artemis posted it online and there is fanfic and meta. The reboot is complete and utter SHIT so the fans hate them now lmfao

Episode six: Someone approaches them to say "hey this bar should be a reality series" and they accept but they all agree they should be less problematic because they don't wanna piss off the producers and then the producers are like "actually Mac you're not gay you're bi because it's Not In to be monosexual anymore also uhm you can joke about being into men but you can only ever on screen be with a woman mmkay but lets queerbair you with Dennis." They like insist he hooks up with Dee lmfao and Mac and Dee are FURIOUS. This is like a total commentary on the way television and movies are produced now where the actual writers have little control and the company micromanages their entire lives all for ad revenue and product placement and tiktok soundbites. Anyway they try to go along with it and film thr Pilot just for the studio to say that it was all meant to be a tax write off so their show gets pulled before even being and blacklisted from Streaming Services despite all the work they did and there are jokes about shitty graphics and crap pay.

Episode seven is kind of a part two of the previous episode because Frank buys out the streaming service and calls it like Wolf Soda Streams. They can post all their shitty movies on it and their reality series and also The Nightman Cometh (the original and reboot). Frank accidentally uploads several sex tapes of him and Artemis instead so it crashes and burns and ends up being more lucrative as a tax write off. The employees of the company he bought out all lost their jobs and end up homeless in the alley with Cricket. They all say; "Those fuckers ruined my life!" and he just stares at them and goes; "First time?"

Episode eight: Dennis starts dating a woman who looks and acts exactly like Mac. And literally everybody sees it EXCEPT Mac and Dennis. She's even Mac's cousin. But Mac and Dennis are idiots. And just don't see it. And everybody is like wtf come on. In the end this woman leaves Dennis because she realizes she's a lesbian.

Episode nine: Finally Mac dates a man and Dennis is motherfucking livid. He assumes it's the envy of being single and being dumped a week prior but we all know the truth. Everyone knows the truth. Except Mac. This boyfriend is also played by Ryan Reynolds and as a callback to the season premiere someone says he has the body of God. Anyway the jealousy and envy is eating Dennis up inside until the episode ends with Dennis screaming like a psychopathic madman in the rain while staring at Mac and Ryan Reynolds through a window holding an axe.

Episode ten: This is shot like a horror movie a la The Maureen Ponderosa Wedding Massacre. It's like a typical slasher movie with Dennis as the bad guy and everyone hiding from him and he's going after Ryan Reynolds. It's terrifying and all that. Scary shit like wtf this might be too dark for an Always Sunny episode except they pull it off super well and there is humor and stuff. There are lots of Dennis screaming hilarious shit like I HAVE THE RAGE OF A THOUSAND SPURNED LOVERS SPILLING SEED OVER CIGARETTE BURNED PICTURES OF THEIR EXES! Just when he corners Ryan Reynolds and screams at him "MAC IS MINE" with the ax raised the scene cuts to them all still in the bar fucked up on edibles in the very first episode. They've finally sobered up and make a comment about how the past few hours seemed like weeks or whatever and how they hallucinated some crazy shit and then Dennis walks over to Mac and just fucking kisses him on the mouth, and Mac reciprocates and the rest of the gang make gagging noises and call them slurs. The end

#iasip #season 16 predictions #answered asks

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bitbybitwrites · 7 months

Text

If I Can Make Your Heart My Home - Recipe and Song list - Chp 16, 17 and 18

Here is the music/recipe wrap-up for chapters 16, 17 and 18!

You can see the recipes/music under the cover art by @datshitrandom

Some spoilers are below, so if you’d like to read the fic first, click here

Click below for the recipe and song lists for:

Chapters 1, 2 and 3, Chapters 4, 5 and 6, Chapters 7, 8 and 9, Chapters 10, 11 and 12 , Chapters 13, 14 and 15

To see the YouTube playlist for the fic, click here.

******

Chapter 16

Mood music:

youtube

Recipies:

You'll find Victoria sponge, Tea sandwiches and Kurt's cookies in earlier chapter recipe wrap ups ( see links above)

“Besides, it's not all for me. I share with my sister Jean. By the way, she happens to enjoy those chouquettes you make,” Chef Sylvester tossed out as she continued peering at him over her glasses.

*****

Chapter 17

Mood music:

youtube

Recipes:

"Is he off to go take lunch with his boyfriend, then?" Santana asked sarcastically as she continued vigorously stirring the batch of Ceylon Chicken Curry soup she made for the luncheon.

****

Chapter 18

Mood music:

youtube

Soon, a bouncy salsa started playing. Trent wiped his hands on his apron and pulled Santana into an impromptu dance. She laughed and played along for a few seconds only.

youtube

Recipies:

"My pozole," Santana said, smacking him on the arm as she pulled away to return to the stove. "Don't you dare make me ruin my Abuela's recipe. Find another dance partner."

Santana's pozole, the recipe of which was handed down to her by her beloved abuela, was simmering on the stovetop. That was to be partnered with her father's cochinita pibil. Warm hand-made tortillas sat folded carefully in a towel, ready to be brought to the once dinner was about to be served.

Trent had a Caprese salad in the refrigerator, prepped and ready to serve. He was putting the finishing touches on an impressive charcuterie board, abundant with tidbits that made even Kurt's mouth water. Trent had also just taken out some herb parmesan biscuits out of the oven that he had baked. Kurt had been particularly eying Trent's appetizer version of his parent's boxty recipe that was laid out on a silver serving tray.

As for dessert, that, of course, was left to Kurt. His addition to the meal were the apple hand pies that were his mother's own recipe and his father's favorite dessert ( when he was allowed to have a treat from his usual heart-healthy diet), an assortment of cookies, as well as some mini dark chocolate tartlets sprinkled with sea salt.

Think I got them all. Let me know if I missed any.

Sending all my love to you readers who have given this fic a chance. Wow can't believe we're already up to Chapter 18!

Chapter 19 to be posted soon!

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #klaine fic #klaine fanart #bitbybitwrites #fic: if i can make your heart my home #klaine #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #datshitrandom #klaine prompt reverse bang 2023 #klainepromptreversebang2023 #kprb2023

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kakesuwolfart · 1 year

Photo

(Alt text and typed out text of what’s in the notebook below)

Art for the @bunnies-in-the-archives event! Art for @nyctolovian ‘s piece which you can read here

The rest of the collection can be found here

Image #1: Basira is in focus standing behind Jon's desk reading his "scrapbook". The visible page is information on slime mold with images of them drawn by Jon. (written below is what is in the notebook) The desk is blurred in the background has a statement in an open folder on it with a tape recorder sitting near by. Between the two is a notepad with a pen near by, what is on the notepad is blurred by it being in the background (but it’s a doodle of a cat). One drawer is open with a scarf falling out, there are boxes inside presumably full of art projects/supplies and a jar of paper cranes in many colours. Basira is a dark skinned woman wearing a mustard yellow hijab. She has dark brown eyes and wears a long sleeved dark muted purple jacket over a slightly lighter coloured shirt; she also wears black gloves.

Image #2: In the archives, Jon and Basira sit in front of a TV screen illuminated by it’s light. Jon is rambling about something happening on screen gesturing while Basira watches him with a smile. Behind them in the background are shelves of boxes and cobwebs. Jon is a dark skinned man with many scars including a very burnt hand and glasses. His eyes are dark brown and his hair is long, brown, and streaked with grey. His nails are painted black but badly chipped and he wears bracelets he made himself of the bisexual and asexual flags. His clothes are easy to confuse with the green blanket wrapped around his shoulders but it is a green top and green long skirt. Basira is now wearing a muted purple hijab. Her top and jacket are now dark muted greens and she has a light purple blanket over her legs.

Also I wanted to include here what is written in the notebook as the font can be hard to read: Slime mold has been around for an estimated forty billion years though remained undiscovered until 1869. When first discovered they were classified as fungi and it took many years to be made part of the Kingdom Protista and class Myxomycetes. When in a properly moist environment slime mold is capable of “creeping” at a surprisingly quick pace of 1.35mm per second, meaning they can move several feet in twenty-four hours. Physarum polycephalum was discovered in 2000, by Toshiyuki Nakagaki to be capable of solving simple mazes in search for food. Since then P. polycephalum has shown intelligent behavior raising the challenging question of if it can be considered “intelligent”. In testing this P. polycephalum was tested with a replica of the layout of Tokyo and the surrounding towns. Placing an oat* in the location of each of these towns and placing the slime mold in the place of “Tokyo” the replica was complete. P. polycephalum began exploring slowly and began making its way around creating an efficient system for reaching the food in the best way possible. Interestingly, the pattern the slime mold created was remarkably similar to the Tokyo subway system.

#the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanart #tma #tma fanart #tma fanwork #tma basira #tma jon #jonathan sims #basira hussain #jonathan sims fanart #basira hussain fanart #tma basira fanart #tma jon fanart #Anyway I had a ton of fun with this and I love how they turned out so much!

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