#i hate art block its so rough

[mildmayfoxe]

STAY ★ TRUE || patreon print for dec / shop

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: rafe cameron x afab maid!reader

cw: titfucking, rimming/ass eating, collaring, power imbalance/dubcon, no real face slapping but reader gets rafe’s rings pressed into their face, gun mentions, rafe talks about wanting to do a line off reader’s tits, throwaway implication that his dad saw you, general rafe-esque warnings 💀, very plotless & possibly ooc (i’m new to the show but i’ve been lurking for a bit), rafe spits on reader, slight dumbification/objectification, hate sex coded but that's more bc i have a love/hate relationship with rafe, he calls reader a bitch once and a also a slut once, use of good girl

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not translate, repost, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

This stupid carpet is hell on your knees. Not that there was any time to pull a pillow down under them, you were pulled into the room and shoved down so fast you got dizzy. You’re brought out of your ruminations by a rough palm seizing your face in its grasp and squeezing. 

Rafe huffs, leaning forward to make sure he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened as his fingers tightened. His gaudy rings are going to leave impressions on your cheeks but it’s hard to care about that right now. One second, you’re dusting off the son of your employer’s bedroom, and the next you’re getting a wad of split slung on your face. 

Your pussy decides to be a traitor and clench in response. 

“Sorry ‘bout that………” Rafe trails off, flicking the spit off your cheek like he was picking at a persistent hangnail. 

The apology is as insincere as it could be but something about the bored inflection in his tone gets you wet. 

“It’s fine.” Your “ice princess facade” as he’s called it  falls apart a tad, an embarrassing heat blooming throughout your face. 

He seems satisfied with his attempt at amateur art and scoops the rest up with two of his fingers. He doesn’t ask you to clean them off, just shoves them in between your plump lips without a word. 

“You’re so fuckin’ messy, being such a shitty maid right now, you know that, babe?” He hums, giving your face one final squeeze. 

You’re not even sure he knows your name, he sure doesn’t act like it. All he does is coo at you condescendingly as you suckle on his fingers, telling you how much better you are at this. Once you’ve done an adequate job of polishing them off, he pulls the digits away and gives you a weak love tap. Rafe’s obviously wanting to wring something else out of you. 

You hate that your first instinct is to say “Yes, sir?” 

You also hate that it’s what actually fucking comes out of your mouth. 

The grin that splits his mouth reminds you of the only time you’ve ever successfully caught a mouse in an old fashioned trap. A vermin that used to disgust you until it stayed and you gave it a name. And then your mom has to turn you away from the sight of Jacque’s tiny body cleaved in two. 

“Get those fucking clothes off, now.” He orders you, palming himself through his khakis. "And toys don't talk back."

You roll your eyes and comply. You ignore Rafe's ramblings about how he wished his dad made you wear one of those skimpy made costumes without underwear, that he way he could stare at your pussy whenever you bent over. The door is wide open, you know you could just make a break for it if you wanted. But you kind of like how the humiliation twists your stomach in a knot. The air in the room gets so much hotter when you focus on the large bulge in front of your face.

As soon as your uniform is lying on the hardwood floor in a rumpled heap, your tits are being squished together. Rafe takes several moments to weigh each globe of flesh in his hands.

"Pretty tits, always wondered what they looked like under that stupid uniform. Wanted to make a mess of you so bad but you had to be all fuckin' stuck up and prissy." He hisses, digging his nails into your breasts.

He massages them in circular motions, forcing them to press together like he could cum untouched to the sight of it alone.

You obediently stay silent as you watch Rafe stagger to his feet and wrestle his leather belt out of his pants. His bottom lip is being toyed with to the point that tiny drops of blood are peeking out of the skin. The leather makes a thwack! sound as it passes through the final belt loop and flops around. Rafe continues to eye your tits like a hawk as he wraps the belt around his hand and kneels down to your level.

He tilts your head up with one finger under your chin, "This is going around your neck, okay? I don't have a leash to go with it, but I'll get one for next time."

You open your mouth to speak or maybe to moan at the vision of the expensive leather tensely coiled around your vulnerable neck like a snake about to strike. The warning look he gives you shut you up, but your damp panties made you want to push him further.

"Don't move a muscle."

The belt was warm to the touch, probably because of all the hours Rafe had spent on the golf course or wherever his "business" takes him. You stay perfectly still as he curled it around your neck, having to wrap it around you again due to the length. The metal belt buckle clicked as he fastens it, tugging it firmly to test how tight it was. It definitely feels like a weight baring down on you, but you seem to be able to breathe so he steps back again.

"There we go, pretty bitch just for me."

His pants fall to the ground unceremoniously, revealing the cock you may have had a stray wet dream or two about. Crowned by neatly and clearly obsessively trimmed hair, it looks about 7 inches and thicker than your forearm. His cock has a slight left curve, with a couple prominent veins and an almost reddish-pink colored tip that puffs out at the sides a bit.

Rafe's cockhead catches the drool that embarrassingly leaks out of your mouth, and you kitten lick the slit as you stare up at him through your lashes. You want to smile at the punched-out groan emanating from above you, but he might slap you for getting cocky, it wouldn't be unwelcome.

"You like it, babe? Yeah, I bet you do."

He brings your hands up to your tits and you pick up on what he wants you to do. Anticipating Rafe Cameron's needs is part of your job after all. You scrape the sides of your chipped painted nails against them as you softly cup and squish the globes together, creating a perfect pocket for him.

"Good girl." He chuckles, ruffling your hair like you were his pet.

He savors the wet slide of his cock through the valley of your breasts. You hold them impossibly closer together, ignoring the discomfort by getting lost in the game of peek a boo his tip is playing with you during every thrust. A near constant stream of precum is flowing from the silt and ending up all over the tops of your tits.

Rafe pants as he speeds up his thrusts, his pupils expanding as he takes in the spectacle of you hot dogging him with your tits. For how preppy he likes to act sometimes, he sure does seem to enjoy painting you with his bodily fluids. He weaves his hands down from their deadly hold on your hair to pinch and flick your nipples.

" 'G-gonna cream all over these gorgeous tits, get them messy, then snort some coke off your nipples after.”

It doesn't take as long as a man like him would prefer before he's spilling all over your heaving chest with a sound so inhuman you'd think he was possessed.

You're past caring if he sees you hungrily open your mouth as wide as possible in the hopes of catching some of his cum in your mouth. You grind your sopping wet cunt against the floor when you do, and fuck it tastes better than it has any right to.

A quiet 'shit' rings out and the room spins as you're swiftly flipped on your stomach. Rafe crowds behind you and yanks your hips up. You don't think much of it until you feel warm breath on your ass. You jolt in surprise, and he gives you a light smack on both cheeks before spreading them with his thumb.

"Bet you thought I wanted your pussy, huh? Well, this tiny hole right here looks much cuter, you can't blame me. We'll get you some cute plugs." Followed by a flat tongue licking a stripe over your rim. He gives your hole a strangely soft peck and then teases the tip of his tongue past the entrance.

You squeal, which you'd be mortified by if the sensation of Rafe's tongue filling up your ass didn't feel so good. The way he curls it and jabs it deeper between your cheeks in short busts is running a huge risk of causing you to go insane. It's like he's exploring every nook and cranny, you should be laughing because the man that treats you like a back-alley whore is up to his ears in your ass. His groans and grunts are muffled but they give you the confidence to be louder.

He drags his face away and hangs his tongue over you until a load of saliva drips down onto you. You shiver when it meets your hole. A high-pitched moan comes out when he massages it into the puckered skin with his thumb.

He dots sloppy open-mouthed kisses up and down your rim, nipping the flesh as he goes.

"I would say it's gonna be too tight, but sluts like you can take anything, right?"

You're too busy nodding to notice the sound of shoes hitting the floor in their rush to get away, or that the person wearing them softly closes the door behind them.

[creaman]

Hi there! I apologize for taking up your time, I am just so curious: When you tackle a comic, what does the process behind it look like?

Asking because I found myself scrolling through your blog once again and couldn't help but marvel at all the beautiful effects you use, at how flawlessly the structure guides the viewer's eye across each page, how the graphic weight seems to always be in just the right places…, and wonder how you learned doing this. Everything you put out looks incredibly professional and I aspire to reach your level of skill ��❤️

Thank you Finz!! You're no bother at all, I'm an open book. This is such high praise for a guy that really doesn't have a set process, I feel like a hack. Ha. Rest assured my style is still developing. Besides the referencing of the linework and composition of official comic books, (practicing by redrawing panels for fun), explaining the process makes me feel like a serial killer but I will do my best.

(WIP Riddler panel, scrapped Scarecrow composition)

My comics usually stem from a single panel or concept — I like to focus on/emphasise particular panels of my pages, the heavy hitters, the main piece that catches your eye. I know I'm not a profoundly technically proficient artist so I prefer visually interesting elements and formatting, i.e. drawing characters outside their frames, negative space, notation, perspectives etc.

(Kung Fu Panda 4 sketch god I hate Kung Fu Panda 4)

I like to establish 'main focus' panels, the bits of the comic that really, well. make people want to chew on it. This is where the technical effort is concentrated, really, and the rest of the comic is generally build around these concepts.

('Restaurant Balthazar' focus panels)

Textures and effects are done on individual panels first, then the entire page as a whole to even out the unity. Generally, blocking in shadows, hatching for visual interest + middle tones, then textures/half-tones, then highlights.

(Script excerpt WIP)

I'm not a writer per se, but having a vague 'script' in your pages helps with pacing and direction. Comics are a versatile story-telling medium. I only really do scripts for comics longer than 2 pages. An optional but recommended strat is to send your script to a friend for a second opinion.

(Script excerpt — 'Restaurant Balthazar', annotated by @vincepti0n I don't know why he drew a face in the middle)

With the script crudely slapped together, I rough out the thumbnails and composition with the text, prioritising coherence and clean integration of previously mentioned 'main focus' panels.

Settling on a composition sucks the hardest. Drawing is fun, thinking makes brain hurty. Variety is good! Close-ups, wide shots, visual metaphors. Every panel is its own artwork.

The text bubbles are usually added in post, yes, but I'm just one guy and I don't have a writer to call me a good boy for doing things correctly. Bite me.

(Early 'Restaurant Balthazar' drafts)

In addition, keeping the text graphics in mind help create a sounder composition wherein even if the panels don't read cleanly left to right + top to bottom, the text can stagger and create the same reading order effect.

Panels and concepts are constantly tweaked, and my comic process is still highly experimental. A lot of industry standard comics aren't illustrated to their full potential due to deadlines and such — I strive for visual epiphany by treating each panel as its own artwork, and every page as a a bit of a mural.

(Old art hurts the soul)

Constantly experimenting allows you the insight of looking at your current art in comparison to your older works. In more recent works, I've been blocking in more shadows wiht lineart with thinner lines and more line weight, and learned to integrate the subject characters with less plain, abstract backgrounds.

TLDR: I have no idea

[elliesmainhoe]

Tattooed on my heart

Ellie Williams x reader imagine

Summary: Ellie's always loved when you doodle on her arm, leaving behind traces of you. She loves them so much she wants them to stay forever.

Contents: none just fluff :)

You could never seem to keep your hands still for even a moment. Your fingers just seemed to tap and twiddle all on their own, when Ellie was around they always seemed to gravitate towards her. Drawing shapes and doodling smiley faces on her forearm absentmindedly was one of your favorite passed times.

Ellie loved it too. the feeling of the tip of your black ball point pen scratching against her tan scarred skin, leaving behind love hearts and stars in their wake. She adored them. As much as Ellie hated to admit it, she would always scrub around your doodles trying her hardest to preserve them on her skin for as long as humanely possible.

That's why on this particular morning as you sat at the kitchen island, crunching your cereal and writing today's to-do list she approached you, sleep still prominent in her eyes and her all messily thrown up in a bun and sat on the stool position next to you.

Ellie nudged her arm closer to your hand that was scribbling down tasks, trying to grab your attention and not make it obvious. As expected,your pen eventually moved from paper to skin as you began doodling, etching a small bouquet of flowers and your and her name's combined spelling out the words "Y/N Williams" in pretty cursive letters.

"Looks cute babe" a small smirk crept into Ellie's face as your eyes squinted in suspicion. "Thanks ...."

-------------

Ellie returned to your shared home later that evening at around 6 pm, a little later than she usually did but nothing too off putting. Your back was turned to the front door as you stirred some homemade soup that was bubbling on the stove top, humming and moving your hips to the beat of your radio.

"Hey babe" she greeted, a slight roughness to her voice. You replied with a hum, a smile appearing on your lips at the feeling of her arm wrapping round your waist and her face nuzzling into your neck softly.

"What did you get up to today?"

"ah, nothing much..., Oh- actually I do have a surprise for you" you looked at her, eyebrow raised in suspicion at the mischievous grin plastered on her freckled face.

"okay-" you said hesitantly, turning off the stove and following suit after Ellie who had walked away towards the dinning room, sitting on a chair before shrugging off her plaid button up revealing her toned arms.

"you didn't." You deadpan

"oh yes I did."

There in all its glory was the same bouquet of flowers you had doodled earlier and the cursive letters spelling out 'Y/N Williams'.

"Why on earth did you do that" you scolded, your smile contradicting your words.

"Well- thought it was pretty, might as well display my girls art work proudly"

----------

Something small to get me out of my writer's block <33

Taglist: @aunslie @lonelyfooryouonly @eywaskisses @daryldixonh0e @kittynnie @lovelyyevelyn @randomhoex @moonlightdivine @haerinwho @mufflaa @mial1l @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @ellies-girl @escaping-reality8 @magicalfreakcowboylawyer @hejdevkdbdjsd @dergy @half-of-a-gay @ellieismami @cyberlainn @gollumsmygel @sseorii @kyleeservopoulos @taloulalila @kiiyoooo @delusionalvioleht @joelscharm @hi2647 @gumdropkoo @coffeeandbookskeepmealive @womaniza @namgification @kimiisims-blog @tayyyystan @abigaillovestoread @whoreshores @kylieeluvstlou @knowitsforthebetterr @endureher @erikaar @lanasluverr @sayah13 @ilovebufflesbians @srryhoneyy @222fine444u @jade1212 @frogtits1 @casually-simping @amoebagrl @darleneslane

[nyctophiliq]

✮ ┆ THE IDEAL ART INSIDE YOU. ellie w. (the last of us)

— “at one point, everyone hated themselves.”

description.             everyone experiences art block once in a while, ellie just deals with it differently

content warnings.               MDNI, nsfw content, female bodied reader, art student! ellie, light bondage, ellie is a little rough, light bondage, she also fucks reader with a sharpie, oh and she draws with said sharpie on reader, so basically marking?, possessive & control freak! ellie, wc 1,67k author’s notes.                     you read the warnings? still here? hope you enjoy, you freak >:) pls reblogs are very very much appriciated

ellie who’s fountain of inspiration seemed to never dry up whenever she looked at you, or just thought about a glimpse of you. but as every artist, ellie too hits a rock bottom every once in a while and she just suffers from her art because she hasn’t yet figured out a way to suffer through it.

“my favorite piece of art that I don’t keep fucking up.“ she groans as her left hand comes to catch your throat, fingers clasping around your neck not at all lovingly but ferociously, her other hand palming your forehead while also managing to force your eyes open with her thumb and index finger. even if you wanted to fight back, there was no use for it. one of her wet cloths, the one that is covered in paint because she wipes her face and hands with it after a session in front of her paper is now wrapped around your wrist, tying them behind your back as she forces your legs apart with her knees, spreading them apart to reveal all of that is you, eyes spitefully wandering your nude body.

oh, how she hated you in these moments, when her art seemed to be nothing just a piece of painting that a child did with its fingers, spreading condiments around its plate and you were the mom who couldn’t help but praise her child, clip that god awful ‘painting’ on the fridge and call it a ‘future picasso’. it’s a disgrace to all the incredible painters before her, the ones who have sweat blood for their art not to be called a silly thing, be frowned upon, and to be taken seriously because sometimes words just weren’t enough. you seemed so perfect, your eyes, your lips, your face, your chest, your stomach, your legs, your everything- how could she ever create art as beautiful and magnificent as you?

she couldn’t let that situation to eat her alive, to consume her from the inside out, for it to own her because in the end it was her who owned it, owned you. the aspect, all the things she had admired, and she called you her muse- she made you who you are today just like god made angels to be so perfect, she is the god who birthed you, casted you in stone and made the land worship you as it’s protector.

“you’re mine, you hear me?” she yells, her spit spurting on your face and she pushes your head further into the mattress, her fingers pushing so hard on your skull she might just claw your eyes out. “I created all that you’re, sculpted you to be so ideal.” she rambles, shifting further between your legs, prying them open with so much force your hip start to burn and little sobs ball up in your throat from the discomfort.

ellie gives you a repulsed look as your lips agape, choking on your words, writhing from the same anguishing feeling of not knowing what to do. it truly turns her stomach, your uncertainty as you lie there, your eyes bulging from fear of what is gonna happen next. but your pupils tell a different story to her, that the way parts of your body is reacting goes against each other, and where your legs meet with your hips- it’s almost impossible to overlook the heat that is radiating.

“i own all the rights to you, everything that they see is my talent sacrificed.” she follows up, letting go of your head and reaching into the back pocket of her khaki shorts, and pulls a sharpie out. there isn’t a second that passed between her pulling it out and biting the cap off before she starts scribbling away on the skin that covers the middle of your chest.

the brush of the pen tickles your nerves, jolts running up and down your spine like a horde of wildlife fleeing after a gun shot, your back arching with each stroke she makes. your skin like paper trembling under her touch, but she is too busy to notice. your eyes roll to the back of your head, closing as you relish in the sensation. the ink staining your skin, her touch softening around your neck, the pads of her fingers ghosting over it, a small smile gracing her lips as she moves from your sternum to the top of your breast.

your mouth falls open at her touch, your hips swaying slightly against her knees as she continues to work. her voice hoarse as she speaks, “this will be mine, my masterpiece,” she says, swallowing hard. “mine…” she mumbles, her voice trailing off. she works in silence for what seems like hours, the only noise being your labored breathing and a soft scratching sound from her pen. your eyelids flutter slowly, the darkness encroaching on your until all you can see are stars floating through the room. you are falling into nothing, nothingness.

she switched sides sometimes ago, but you hardly noticed until she pulls away from both your chest and neck, your eyes snapping open as her hand comes to rest on your waist. her tongue darts out to wet her lips, her body tensing slightly. “yes…” she whispers, before biting her lips, pushing her tongue against the teeth that is peaking above. your gaze follows hers until you find yourself staring right into her eyes, their irises so dark they look black.

“mine… I own this body, I own this life… this was always supposed to happen.” she laughs then, dark, and wicked, her words dripping with confidence as she runs her finger along whatever she wrote or drawn on you. “you should see… you should see but where should i-“ she cuts herself off, a puzzled look washing across her features as she tries to find the handheld mirror, simultaneously searching for a place to put the sharpie because she is gonna need it again, she just needs you to see her signature first.

she laughs as she thinks of it, deep and rumbling before she teases your folds with the handle part of the sharpie, collecting all that have been dripping from you the minute your bare skin was exposed to the cool room’s air. you let out a gasp as it slides inside you, a gasp that becomes a whine as she keeps going. you feel tears gather in your eyes as she just leaves it there, unattended and stuck in one place.

“here! see for yourself, see it! tell me what do you think?” manic, that’s how she sounds now, absolutely out of her mind as the sweat starts to glow on her face. she grips the handheld mirror, her hard grip visible as she holds it up above you, giving you the perfect look at yourself.

her signature, all over your chest. ellie williams. ellie williams. ellie williams. ellie williams.

ellie’s face contorts with frustration at your silence, “do i need to coax an answer out of you? come on, give me an answer!” she grits her teeth, her other hand coming to take a hold of the sharpie in you. she moves it back and forth, painfully slow until you manage an answer out, your voice sounding so small you almost believe you imagined it.

“I love it, I love it, I love it!” you laugh weakly when you feel her speed up at your words, her face getting redder and redder. she chuckles softly before she brings the mirror closer to you, angling it so you get a better view of your nakedness and the way your cunt practically sucks the sharpie in.

she looks at you as if you are a prize, as if the mirror has finally captured the image that she desired for so long. ‘I won’, her expression proclaims proudly, her grin wide as the room fills with the sounds of the drenched pen fucking your walls. you wince at some spots, a little more sensitive, but her gaze remains steady on yours, never breaking contact. you try to speak, to say something ,anything, but your throat feels tight, your breath short as she discards the mirror, the soft pad of her thumb rubbing circles on the fleshy parts between your thighs.

you whimper quietly, a moan building up in your throat. you could cry if you wanted to, a hot flood threatening to erupt from your body, begging to be released. you bite your lips, your legs tremble, your nails digging into the bedsheets under you as your vision goes blurry. you blink furiously, trying to refocus. she moves to your clit, circling it with her thumb as your entire body tenses. the slick wetness coats her fingertips as she gives you the few last pushes you need to end up on the other side, for the bliss of your climax whiten your vision and everything that she is.

ellie watches you, excitedly, with a fire burning in her eyes that has never burned before. she looks sick, she feels sick, but in the best way possible as you writhe against her hand, trying to get away from the sharpie that is still residing between your clamping walls. she can see the bigger picture now, the light burning on your skin and the dark in that covers your torso, the overwhelming feeling of coming undone, and her ownership over everything that had occurred. she smiles to herself, proud of her accomplishment, but also anxious to finally begin her next piece.

“just one final detail…” it came quietly, murmured from between her lips as she pulls the sharpie from your, flipping in while her free hand comes to push down on your hip bone. you don’t need to guess, you already know what she’s gonna write, it’s predictable from the expression of her face. twisted grin, with flushed cheeks that are not at all red from embarrassment but rather overcome with pure pride, joy, and glee.

ellie williams was in here.

[eviesaurusrex]

Can you do a meet cute blurb with Harry and a totally normal not famous girlie, I’m dying for a cute mushy blurb 🥰

Can you read minds? Because I have wanted to do something like that for the longest time 👀 and because I’m in the mood, here we go. This is set at the beginning of his NYC shows this year!

warnings: none, only fluff, one short mention of Olivia, that’s it

word counter: 2.5k

Harry Styles x University!Reader

;

It had been a busy and more than stressful day back at Parsons; her brain still smoked after hours of theoretical lectures and even more hours in one of the many photo shooting studios the private art and design school owned in their buildings. Her back hurt from the crouching position she had held since their lunch break because the current lecture slot was themed around still lives, and she hated to take photos from a chair. YN needed the constant movement of her body to really focus on her work. But now, everything the photography student wanted was to grab something halfway decent for dinner on her way home instead of ordering another round of sushi and pizza for her two roommates and herself. Well, YN would already be happy if she found something with a lot of salad and veggies without having to spend the entirety of her remaining weekly allowance on the ingredients for a self-made salad. But on the other hand, she wouldn’t have time to spend more money if she hid in her favorite photo studio right opposite the Hudson River or if she grabbed her camera to stroll around New York City in order to fill her portfolio.

The argument inside her head was on fire while her thumbs rapidly typed away on her phone to ask her two roomies if they needed dinner as well. Her feet carried YN safely around the corners and streets of Greenwich, heading straight to the perfectly stocked Target down the street because she knew how things would go if she talked herself into trying her luck at the supermarket only a block away from her home. She would be furious because the best stuff would already be gone, and YN really couldn’t allow another night with take-out.

It was as if her mother’s mouth was attached to her ear to keep the warnings on repeat.

Softly shaking her head to free herself from the sticking thoughts, YN entered Target and hummed under her breath. The young woman fixed the strap of her camera bag on her shoulder, strolling through the first few aisles, eyes wandering over the shelves in deep concentration. Her arm stretched out to reach and grab a box of cereals without hesitation, which found its way into the soft embrace of her other arm before she continued her path through the supermarket; hummed tunes still leaving her lips. It helped that the store’s radio started to play the first seconds of Late Night Talking before a cashier’s announcement interrupted the melody already. But YN knew the song by heart, so it was easy to continue the text in her mind.

With her left arm filled with the box of cereals and a pack of her favorite granola bars, the woman rounded the next corner to finally move forward to her desired section, distracted by her own thoughts and the vibration of her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. YN knew that this could never end good—and she always had been right about it; today didn’t mark an exception because the universe rarely smiled upon her.

A strong chest stopped her steps abruptly, and before YN could follow the cereals and granola bars closely in their journey downwards to the floor, a pair of equally strong hands grabbed her elbows in a steadying hold. Even before her brain could process the situation, her heart already pumped adrenaline through her veins, and her senses were heightened. YN felt the strap of the camera bag slid off her shoulder before she could pull the body part up, and so her left hand rushed to the rescue—just like another set of fingers. They met underneath the bag; her palm connected to the rough fabric while the other pressed against the back of her hand.

None of them had uttered a single word so far, barely even letting out a surprised huff of air at the feeling of impact, but now, a voice spoke up. “Everything’s okay?” And instantly, her head jerked up, and wide eyes stared into the most handsome face gracing this earth with its existence. Only moments ago, she had listened to his songs in her head, had hummed them, had mentally cursed the cashier for interrupting it—though YN knew that the poor soul didn’t have a choice—and now, the bearer of the voice, the creator of the songs, stood right in front of her, holding her elbow not to see her tumble to the ground.

Harry Styles is holding my arm between white bread and baking mix.

If her heart hadn’t worked overtime before, it damn sure did now.

“I… I am so sorry,” she pressed out after finally finding the ability to speak again and clinging to it like a drowning person on a piece of driftwood. “Oh gosh, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t daydream while getting my stuff.” Speaking of which. YN’s eyes had to peel themselves off his face with a small smile playing around his lips to locate her proudest possessions so far. She didn’t even realize that their hands still touched to support her camera and save it from destruction. But Harry Styles—she still couldn’t wrap her head around it—seemingly caught up to it again because his eyes wandered between the bag and her face. “You got it?” His voice was so gentle she probably would’ve swooned if she had heard it on YouTube while watching one of his interviews in the depths of night. But now, YN only took a deep breath—she was raised to be a decent human and had grown into a decent adult, after all—and nodded softly and pushed the strap back onto her shoulder.

She crouched down to retrieve her granola bars which had stopped right next to her sneaker-clad foot, while the man took one step to the side to grab the fallen cereal box. They both returned to their heights at the same time, and Harry grinned down at the box in his hand before showing it her. “Lucky Charms, hm?” YN wasn’t sure why, but she had to chuckle under her breath at his tone. “Thanks.” She took the box and put it back into the embrace of her arm. A basket would’ve been too easy, dumbass, mocked the voice in her head while YN still tried to grasp a hold of her current reality. “Best cereals there is if you ask me. And… well, I have to be rebellious in my freedom.” Now, the woman grinned as well, which grew in its intensity as the singer leaned his head closer to hers. “Strict parents?” YN moved her face in his direction. “A dentist as a mom,” she whispered conspiratorially, and both chuckled like teenagers after they’d shared new gossip.

“But, seriously, I’m really sorry for… this.” The student waved her hand through the air, pointing from herself to him and the surrounding environment, but Harry waved it off with a charming smile. “Would it make it better if I tell you that I would always choose this over paparazzi and unrelenting fans?” YN had to swallow dryly because suddenly, Death Valley was located in her mouth rather than back in California. But she nodded nonetheless, even though the movement held an unsure edge to it. “This is actually making me feel better about it, yeah,” she agreed, and it was true because she finally didn’t feel the urgent need to ask if he wanted her social security number—just in case. Her brain still pressed her to ask. “So… No SSN needed? No injuries and the like? I don’t want to be the reason that Harry Styles isn’t able to jump over a stage without a cast.”

His soft laugh ran through her body like a warm shiver, and his eyes, watching her face so intently, almost let her cheeks fire up in a crimson red. “No social security number needed, no. I’m fine. More than fine, actually…”

Harry’s voice lost itself somewhere after his last spoken word; his mind traveled to daydreams about bowls full of Lucky Charms during a lazy morning, and the sound of her laugh echoed in his head as he pushed himself back on track. He cleared his throat softly. “Is it okay to ask for your name, or is it too bold because we’re standing between Nature’s Own Whitewheat Enriched Bread and…—��� Harry looked to his right and grabbed a baking mix out of the shelf to inspect the brand before looking back up to the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. “…—and Betty Crocker’s Red Velvet Mix?” She took a step toward him and got a hold of the package—their fingertips touched in the gentlest of ways, and his heart almost leaped out of his chest—before taking it entirely and letting it disappear between her arm and torso. “I obviously have an advantage right now, don’t I?” Her small, teasing smile drove him almost mad. “You certainly do,” Harry returned and couldn’t help but smile. “Then you certainly can ask for my name,” the woman nodded, and he raised a brow, waiting.

And when he thought her smile almost drove him mad, he wasn’t prepared for the gentle laugh escaping her now.

Damn, was all the singer could think.

“There wasn’t a question,” she teased him relentlessly, and Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “A funny one, aren’t we?” Both tried to hide their grins as he stretched out his ring-clad hand. “Harry Styles. With whom do I have the pleasure?” He watched her as she fixed the strap of her small bag—he suspected it to be a camera bag—before their hands met again; this time in full awareness of their doing. “YN LN—photography student and Lucky Charms votary.”

Both could feel the tingles running up their arms, letting goosebumps erupt on their skins, and finally, the blood was able to run into her cheeks and tint them rosy red. Harry only could think how adorable it made her look, even more so than before. But he couldn’t boast of being unaffected because the singer could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and he felt nervousness rising up in his body. At least he didn’t get sweaty hands this easily anymore…

“I fear I might be too bold and daring now, but… Damn. Uhm…” YN raised both brows in anticipation and curiosity. She had never witnessed Harry Styles being overly shy or insecure, but well, everything in those interviews and articles could be full-on show, even though she didn’t think this man was a big fan of pretending to be someone else. So, it let him appear even more charming than before and the woman already dreaded the moment she would have to part from him forever.

After all, what could a world-famous singer want from or with her? Especially a singer who still was or wasn’t involved in a relationship with a certain someone, so… Yeah. YN was just curious about what Harry tried to ask of her—and she didn’t have to wait much longer.

“Okay, bloody fuck it,” he started, and the smaller woman looked up at him with a questioning expression, still unsure what this could be about. “I’m being daring. So, here is the question: Can I get your number? If you’re not taken—happily or unhappily—or already seeing someone, that is, of course. And only if you’re interested in men at all.”

Moments like these were life-defining, world-changing. They always started innocently, but in the midst of the attack, time and space seemed to slow down around one until they almost stopped spinning altogether. YN felt exactly like this, and it wouldn’t even surprise her if she looked around right now and found that everyone in this Target had stopped moving entirely; except for them. But she wasn’t even able to move her gaze from the man in front of her, too enthralled by his presence and asked question, which implied so much more than her mind could process right now.

YN wasn’t even sure how to begin, but her lips were faster than her brain. “What’s with…?” Her lips may have been faster, but they certainly weren’t ready to form a complete sentence. But Harry understood her anyway. “Olivia?” With a racing heart, YN only dared to nod her head yes and watched him sigh softly, fingers raking through his soft-looking mop of curls. “We haven’t made it public yet, but… we’re done. We’re done for a long time already,” he explained, and she could feel how her head nodded in understanding. She didn’t need to know more, so she held out a hand with a reappearing smile on her lips. Harry’s eyes jumped from the palm of her hand to her eyes in a matter of milliseconds. “Well?” Now, a grin started to tuck at the corner of her mouth before Harry slowly began to understand the meaning of it, and a lovely blush graced his cheeks while he got a hold of his phone, unlocked it, and had opened his contact list. The phone found its way into her hand, and YN started to type before handing it back to him.

Harry laughed under his breath at the sight of the newly saved contact before looking back into her face. “Cult Leader?” YN full-on grinned over her entire face. “I have to at least try to convert people to the Lucky Charms belief, don’t I?” And she never saved herself in a serious manner into other people’s phones if it wasn’t work- or study-related. She loved making people smile or laugh if they saw her name popping up on their screens. “Sounds more like a sect to me, but I can live with that very easily as long as I’m allowed to call you.” Chuckling, YN softly shook her head at him. “You really are a cheeky one, aren’t you? But yes, you have permission to call me. That’s what numbers are for,” she teased and took a quick glance at the watch on her wrist. “Okay, this sounds really shitty, but I slowly have to get going. I have an assignment until eight, which I still have to edit the hell out of, and the subway will be hell if I’m not getting in before five.” She loved living in Brooklyn, but the subway rides were always a hassle if YN missed the tiny but perfect slot between four and five and timed everything perfectly to outdo the tedious rush hour. But Harry—universe bless him—nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, sure, of course! Don’t worry. I have your number now, remember? You’re not out of this world, only blocks, a river, or a call away.”

Smiling up at him, the woman could hug the entire world, and the happiness rushing through her system still would be almost too much to bear. “‘Kay. Then… I'll probably hear from you,” she grinned, unsure of what to do now. Should she shake his hand? Hug him? Just turn around and leave this aisle of which they still were the only occupants? Harry made it easy for her: He slowly started walking backward, eyes trained unmoving on her. “You said eight?” YN nodded while watching him. “Yeah, why?” But she only got a grin as an answer before he disappeared around the next corner and left a stunned YN behind.

;

I seriously didn’t plan to write this much, but deal with it. And I’m sorry to put her name into this, but I kinda wanted the slight implication of drama because I’m thinking about using this scenario as the base for some smau :3

Hope y’all enjoyed this because I really enjoyed writing it! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated <3

[partnerlesspansexual]

Art block

(Hobie Brown x GN!Artist!Reader)

(Synopsis: Art block is a bitch)

It's a pleasant evening on Earth-138, East London to be specific. The sky is clear, the air is crisp, and Spiderpunk (or Hobie Brown as you know him) is returning to his flat after a long day of spidey-work. It's certainly been a busy day to say the least, and all Hobie wants to do is strip off his suit, slip into something more comfortable (or not slip into anything at all if you're lucky, *wink,wink*), and chillax with his baby.

The moment he steps foot into your shared flat, however, his spidey-senses can tell that the vibes are off. Way off. He pulls off his mask, setting his beautiful wicks free from their spandex prison, and looks around the living room in an attempt to locate you. But after a few moments, he gives up and decides to call out to you instead.

"Y/N! Where are you, love?"

He yells, his rich voice echoing through the flat. A moment of silence passes, and Hobie's about to call out to you again, but before he does, he hears a long, pained groan come from your study. He puzzles as to what the matter is, before wandering over to your current location, wondering what on earth he's going to see when he opens the door.

But, like the gentleman he is, he knocks on the door to make sure he doesn't startle you.

"*knock,knock* Babes? You alright in there? Can I pop in"

He asks, genuine concern in his voice. You offer a half arsed

"Yeah"

In response. He slowly opens the door to see you sat in your office, face down on your desk, paint smeared all over your hands (with some having made its way into your hair), with the main light off and the little lamp on your desk acting as your only source of light; the mug and plate on your windowsill giving Hobie the impression that you have in fact been in here all day. To get a better look at you, he flicks the main light on, to which you respond by covering your face with your hands and whining.

"Hobie! Turn that sodding light off, it's too bright!"

You groan in displeasure as Hobie chuckles at your dramatic overreaction. He walks up behind you and gently places his rough, calloused hands on your soft shoulders, gently massaging them in an attempt to calm your scrambled brain. Your tense shoulders noticeably lower as you welcome his gentle touch, relaxing into his loving hands.

"What's the matter, love? Talk to me, ey?"

Hobie speaks softly into your ear as he gently strokes your hair. You slowly lift your head to reveal your paint splattered face, your eyebags having noticeably darkened.

"Before you say anything, I'm fully aware of how atrocious I look"

You chuckle at yourself before massaging your temple with your fingers, trying to ease the tension. Hobie's expression softens and he crouches down next to and brushes a stray strand of hair out of your face, before gently kissing your cheek.

"What's up, babes? Tell spidey-man what the problem is?"

Your cheeks flush a warm shade of pink as a smile widens across your face, loving every second you're with this wonderful man. Then you sigh and manage to explain the reason for your frustration and exhaustion in two simple words.

"Art block"

Hobie sighs in relief, glad to know that nothing too serious has happened. This isn't the first time you've encountered art block (and it certainly won't be the last), so Hobie knows how frustrating this can be for you.

"I'm sorry, babes. I know you hate it when this happens. What is it that you've been trying to draw anyw-"

Hobie peeks over your shoulder and is able to see what you've been creating all day. Numerous paintings and drawings of him are strewn across your desk, entire sheets of paper that you've dedicated to things as little as getting the tone of his skin just right, refusing to settle for anything but perfection.

"Oh, love. These are bloody gorgeous! I'm quite flattered"

He coos, his cheeks flushing a dark shade of red as he gives your shoulders a gentle, but affirming squeeze. You cover your face with your hands to hide your embarrassment.

"But they're not perfect"

You respond, your voice muffled by your hands. Hobie rolls his eyes at your response, takes your hands in his and slowly removes them from your face before bringing his face closer to yours, your noses barely touching as he locks his soulful brown eyes onto yours.

"Neither am I. But you love me just the same anyway, right?"

He asks genuinely. You rest your forehead against his, taking pleasure in the warmth that radiates from his skin.

"Of course"

You say softly as Hobie cups your face with his hands. You lean into them, reveling in the safety and security you feel whenever you're together.

"Then love your art the same way you love me. Can you do that for me, babes?"

You sigh and close your eyes, before opening them and smiling softly.

"I'll try, love. I promise"

(I genuinely have art block right now (and a cold) and it's making me want to curl up into a ball and die)

[lizaluvsthis]

Yes we have... SHORT FICS FOR THE ART'S CONTEXT!

(More yumyum foods)

First art after I vanished!

"Breathe deep..."

Three sunk himself deeper from the bed until...

He woke up to see that he was floating in deep abyss of the water. He wondered how he got here.

He was in a dream. He felt aware about what it felt like... the water flowing his hair upwards, three remained silent. With no urge on what to do or whatsoever...

The water blocking his hearing. No sounds played.

He closed his eyes, tried relaxing his mind and body. Breathing... exhaling... bubbled formed...

"Breathe deep and remember..."

Remember... remember... re... remember what exactly..?

What was he supposed to remember? What was his purpose for doing this so?

Loosening himself off the heavy things...

Taking a bit of a break from everything hard...

"You're okay..."

"You're gonna be okay..."

"You're always okay."

"I am not okay..."

He told himself he was fine, he'd always been fine. Why else wouldn't he be?

What is this gentle and caring emotion that has been giving him? When did he get too comfortable?

Letting all of his negative emotions surpass the blue calming water.

Allowing himself to drift from deep blue..

"If you can't handle your own emotions, just set it all free!"

Keep calm and carry on...

2nd art (repost because why not?

"Close my Eyes"

In reality I forgot to put context so pardon.

Washing Mashine Heart by mitski

Three felt like he wanted to pluck both of his own eyes... wanting to hold the tears... wanting to forget about the things he did...

Fear of everything that he'll lose one day...

Right after what happened...with the castle...

"We're friends!"

...

Its hard to lose him again...

He wondered how did he get too close from him? How he admired the touch of friendship he now has forming with him... he wondered why it even matter to him...

Hence, that he wished from a shooting star. To forget what he had all saw... with everything... so many things... that he didn't want to see again...

Pluck it out.

"Keep those eyes to yourself..."

Blue said. "How are you supposed to see what life gives when everything you've been seeing with your own eyes, meant so much to you...?"

He never spoke, still remained silent. Three closed both of his eyes in a warry night of cold and black.

Smg4 placed both hands in Three's eyes.

"Now open your eyes... what do you see...?"

SMG3 opened his eyes, pitch black is seen around his view. No gap of light from Four's bare hands were shown, just him, and the sight of nothingness...

"Black, I see pitch black..." Three responds, trying to ignore how both of Four's hands are carefully covering his eyes. But he could feel that his hand was cold, a little rough coming from his scars that recovered during the incident.

"Now try to imagine... in a world filled with life. How would you describe your own?"

...

..

.

At this point, the man in purple started to cry. He couldn't handle it. The burden pain that had been ripping his heart, felt like he wanted to tear his skin.

Tried holding his tears, holding it all, keeping everything together.

Bottling it all up...

It wasn't enough...

He wasn't... enough...

For someone... in particular...

He was weak, he made himself weak.

He held both of Four's wrist, the scars from his hands. Now same with his partner's.

He felt like he would melt in any second, not just because of what he'd realize behind what he had been shown.

It was all because of Four as well.

He felt like his insides were stabbing itself, not daring to say a word of another. But wanting to... yet he can't...

Everything felt worthless...

He tried to muster up a word... say something.... anything at all...

It was crushing him deep inside, he just couldn't do it...

Something getting stuck from his throat, strangling his neck even tho nothing physical .

But why couldn't he...?

"Empty... am I right?"

He wasn't wrong. His whole world was nothing, he was nothing, everything from his life used to be filled with chaos and hate. It was black. Well- used to be...

Now everything... at his current... now had filled him with life, the meaning, the shine that brightens up from the gaps beyond the trees whenever he goes out of his cafe.

Taking himself for a walk and happens to see nature.. so peacefully here... so calm... so...

Quiet..

He wonders how Four could even do it... how he could explain everything about it than just using words. How this felt so simple for him to do.

Now there was Four. From his point of view, he saw his ex rival casually hanging around with his close friend Mario while him...

Standing behind the tall trees, sharing a peek with his red eyes. To witness an eye catching wonder of smg4 laughing, a sweet and adoring laugh.

Made the full view of orange turning to blue, his color.

It was beautiful... it made him feel things that mostly have been felt whenever he saw him happy.

He wish that he had that too...

Why... not... me...?

[notmyprey]

Hi! Uhm I’m new, I love your blog! But I’m just nervous I’ll be judged by others that I like this stuff

Hey I am so so sorry about how long it took me to get to this. I have been thinking this over quite a bit, since this is in fact a very serious thing. (I also have been really busy, which hasn't helped in the speed at which I answer asks)

Firstly, thank you! I am always so happy when people find my art/content as entertaining as I do!

Secondly, in regards to the judgment.

Unfortunately, no matter what you do, someone will judge you. But when you want something enough, when you care about something enough, you will find places and groups where that judgment lessens. I have found my place here, a place where, although no one knows my irl name, they know me by a name I answer to. Although no one knows my face, they do know a truer face of myself than many do in real life. People here know me and often know a more freeing part of me.

I think being here, on Tumbler, has been so freeing and overall rewarding. I know you may be scared of the judgment, but there are ways to lessen it. (I will give tips on how to do this later on)

Although our community has its faults, it is kind at heart and truely is trying to do what they think is best to keep others safe. Although many disagree with the methods, it always comes back to the fact that we want to have a safe place to express ourselves. This, our community, in reality, is a decently safe place.

That being said, I know the fear of harassment is very real. So if you guys want my tips on how to avoid harassment, here are some things I've found:

Dont post political views (outside of DNI lists) on your sfw vore blog. This often can lead to people who dont agree with your view on said matter to seek you out for hate. I have seen this time and time again, I whole heartedly recommend a dedicated blog to that stuff, or even creating a new/separate account for it.

Dont spam tags. This is basic, but often overlooked. Make sure you tag your posts right, or people may block you because you did post something triggering and they saw it.

Dont reblog Willy nilly. This can lead to mishaps, such as accidentally rebloging a post from an nsfw blog. Try to make sure you are rebloging from people you know are safe.

Dont threaten, even jokingly, anyone unless you make it 100% clear it is a joke. This goes for your friend, others, and even people who are mean to you. This is often overlooked, but can easily come to bite you in the ass when your words are used to make you look violent and sporadic.

If people criticize you, even unjustly, try to at least think about where those words may be coming from. I have someone call me a pedo in the past, and although I am very ace, I understand it was probably coming from a place of hurt. Whether it was their hurt or someone they knew, it was probably a subject that was important, and if they see any of the same trends as when they/another was hurt, they will point it out. Dont get angry and aggressive, no matter how much you want to. If you need to, step away.

If troll annons start invading your ask box, either turn off annon or stop answering. Answering annons like that too often only fuels the fire, trolls, not haters, but trolls specifically feed off of your reaction. There is nothing for you to often grasp onto in those moments since the face you are talking to is faceless. So, either scarcely answer trolls, or dont answer them at all.

Dont get involved in community discourse when possible. Unless your hand is forced or it is an unavoidable matter, it is best to stay out of discourse. If you still want to know what others thing/help in a muxg safer way, often, I will message others I trust about their views on the matter (or if they are involved asking if they are doing ok), but rarely anything beyond that. Its difficult, seeing people you know be in the rough situations, but often stepping in when not necessary leads to more problems than it does help.

Please note that these are just some of the things I do that help me. Other people may have their own way of keeping harassment away from their blog, but this is mine.

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 4

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Donnie's always working on something like in this week’s chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

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

“Okay.”

You looked over from where you were adjusting the collar of your shirt.

“Technically your cycle started six days ago, but marking today as the first cleared from your period.” Donnie spoke with a litany of screens about him.

“It was a long one…” You ruminated. “I hate when it’s just bloody discharge those last few days, like just empty out already.”

Donnie nodded and paced with his circle of screens moving fluidly along.

You noticed a few purple Tetris blocks mixed in amongst the technology and walked closer to get a look at them.

“With your permission I’ve taken an average of your cycles to work off of.” Donnie paced away from you without noticing.

You gave chase.

“As you have cleared, I’ve been examining you daily through the entirety of approximately your last three cycles. That paired with menstrual data that was passively collected, I can accurately map out our schedule.”

You got close to one floating purple block, but Donnie neared a wall and, like a Roomba, rotated away to go in another direction.

“We then take into account your clinical OBGYN visits. Your gametes are considered in a good health range. Mine are in a similar state per my personal evaluation. It is only combining our genetics that interferes now. Consider we are tethered to probability, following your ovulation gives us the best chances of conceiving.”

You watched his path and waited for what direction he would bounce towards next so you could intercept.

“My sperm appears to have a similar lifespan to that of a humans’. That’s a three to five day window in which they can survive in your reproductive system. To best maximize our chances, we should keep you filled just prior to and during your ovulation. Hence the necessity of your menstrual schedule.”

He trended towards the bed and you frowned because that would send him right back out into the bedroom proper.

“Now, we could use the plug, but that was meant as a sexual device. There is no need to keep you full of seminal fluid which only acts as transport.”  

You saw mental images of Pong play out and realized he would soon be heading straight back towards you.

“A more useful and adjacent device would be a conception cap, but I wonder about its necessity as my sperm are tenacious…”

You adjusted your stance and waited.

“We can reconsider going forward if our current methods don't prove fruitful.” He made the final pivot in your direction. “For now, we will begin with this schedule.”

Before he reached you a calendar appeared in your face.

It marred your vision and kept you from seeing those strange fragments.

You gave a small sigh.

“Something wrong?” He swiped your screen to the side so he could better see you. “I debated a separate calendar from our usual, but it made more sense to combine them. Why waste time going out to dinner when we could put our hours to better use filling you with my seed?”

Your stomach flipped and you almost forgot about your other quest. “T-that’s not…”

He waited.

You shook your head and further moved the screen to step into his space.

Holograms broke up around you and you reached out toward the floating oddities.

“What are these?”

Donnie’s arm lowered and, with it, his screens collapsed. “I have been pushing the limits of my ninpo.”

“This is your ninpo?” You tapped the small block and it was indeed solid.

“Yes. My mysticism forms via construction. It is what I understand. However, it is also a manifestation. I have reason to believe that I can integrate it into my technology.”

“You want that?” You cupped your palms under it as if to hold the pieces. “Your tech is amazing. Would the ninpo make it better?”

“My screens now are hologram projections. They come from a knowable source. Though they are expertly encrypted, there is still a chance they could be hacked. Mystic technology, in theory, has no system to stem from. It is being projected from my very being. A completely uncrackable network!”

You sought Donnie’s eyes with growing amazement. “Oh… When you put it like that…”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I can replace everything with complete safety.”

Within your palm, you watched the pixels shift ever so slightly.

“However, data is intangible. While you say you build a system, you are instead writing the basis for it. I can visualize the code, but not its weight. There is a current disconnect between such so I have a simple form of a router up for the time being. I am feeding the connection from my tech gauntlet through my ninpo before it reaches the usual old screens. I am hoping it will help inspire said information to display as if it were a computer and I can then cut out the middle man.”

“Your gauntlet…” You let the ninpo go and moved to touch the device on his wrist.

“I have no plans to stop wearing or using it. My ninpo requires focus and tapping energy of which I have little stamina for. It is another facet of the router manifestation. Raphael described mystic arts as any other muscle to be trained. Thus I try to keep some form of ninpo up when I can and for as long as I am able.”

“Right… The tech’ll be a backup if you’re ever out of commission.”

“I suppose…” Donnie had an interested edge to him.

You fluttered your lashes as you waited for him to elaborate.

He churred into your space, but didn’t make contact. “It’s mysticism. Its rules are infuriating. Who’s to say I am limited in that way? I aim to create lasting constructions.”

“Donatello, my love, always pushing boundaries.” You spoke wistfully.

He lavished in the praise with closed lids before he straightened his posture.

“Speaking of lasting constructions…”

He eyed you and brought the screens back up.

“Let’s say I didn’t hear anything after you mentioned my period being over… How would you feel about repeating everything…?” You grinned.

His patience for you didn’t seem to have a limit though he did have minor scorn as he started his explanation over.

-

You were giddy as you stood outside of your own front door. Adjusting your clothes for about the third time, you debated your entry. You were spoiled for choice, but wanted to make this occasion special. Per Donnie’s planning, today marked the window just before your ovulation. It was the crossroads section in which his sperm would stay alive within you and be ready to inseminate the moment it became possible.

You had both also agreed to stave off sex until today. It was a paltry three day window and you had joked about Donnie saving up. As he was these days, he had bitter corrections for any perpetuated mythos. He was a regular sex ed teacher and explained that while it was possible that certain abstinence could lead to increased sperm counts, the ejaculate would contain older, less agile emissions. It was under his scrutiny that you agreed to only wait to enhance this moment.

A giddy countdown now had you shaking with the thrill and your entry. 

Should you come in sultry and swing your belongings out of the way while announcing yourself?

Would Donnie be waiting to sweep you off your feet?

Would you not make it to the bedroom?

Would there be a line of candles and flower petals guiding your way?

Running through every scenario, you abandoned them all in favor of the door knob. It turned for you and you pushed against the wood. It revealed your apartment and you didn’t immediately notice anything had changed. It looked like your usual home and your lips parted to announce your presence.

Before you could speak, your husband stepped out so he was across from your entry.

He was the picture of dichotomy.

From his posture and squared shoulders, he was ready.

From his stance, he could not be knocked down.

From where his hands lazily flopped back to his sides, it said he’d been wringing them.

From the pinched lines of his face and the faded look to his pupil, he was tightly wound with nerves.

All of him read an equal amount of excited and nervous.

You forgot all about some fancy entrance and moved to your mate.

He accepted you as your bag fell to the ground. His willingness to give himself over read as an emotional scar and you swept over his shirt. It was something plain he’d probably been in all day and, upon finding nothing of note, you coasted up to his cheek. His head tipped into your palm and you felt your affection swallow you whole. “Hello, sweet. You hanging in there?”

“I should have asked you to take today off…” He spoke with sorrow.

“We’re saving that for ovulation day.” You reminded him.

“I know…” His hands trended beneath yours. “That’s why I didn’t.”

You nodded and curled your fingers to pull him down.

He resisted at first, his eyes darting to commit you to memory before he lowered.

He came with a winding and you met him for a kiss.

It struck as mellow in comparison to everything you had seen. He seemed to smile at your confusion and pressed into you to make his intention known. What came then was tenderness, but those nerves still slipped beneath it. You wanted to ask why, but the glowing embers against his lips spoke of how deep his desire was. You imagined maybe he had a fear of how deep his carnal desires could go. He was finally exercising his top kink in its truest form. It seemed obvious that he'd be afraid he might consume you.

It reminded you of an old line from your first date about a bear. It struck you how you had long become equally as voracious as him and you channeled that ferocity. The surge of both your body and emotion knocked him back a step. Drunk off the power to ruffle the master, you pursued him as much as he would allow. He soon got his feet stabilized which meant you were a tiny powerhouse against the pylon of his body. His form held steady, allowing you whatever wanton destruction you craved that wasn’t his person.

It came in the form of his clothes which you twisted up and pulled at. He bent for you, coming down enough so you could yank his top off and knocked his glasses in the process. He chuckled at your need, but gave no recompense. It left you as the one-sided onslaught and you pantsed him in retaliation.

When you came up from shoving his waistband down, he only had an arched brow that sarcastically challenged your childish move.

You tittered at the sight, playing it off. “Here? Couch? Bed…?”

He looked over each spot as if he had all the time in the world.

His bond barely concealed how much his emotion begged to differ.

You put out a sort of sigh and trended to his right.

“I’ve been bombarded with info lately…” You mourned and slid a forlorn hand across his wraps. “Intro to baby making.”

He watched you circle him.

You made sure to keep a teasing digit on him at all times. “A long winded separation ig facts and old wives tales…”

You appeared on his other side and he continued to track you.

“No sex position increases odds, but deep penetration is good. Whatever gets the sperm closest to the cervix…” You stopped at his front and sighed again.

You saw his fingers twitch as he withheld himself.

“Hard to push you into missionary if you aren’t going to help…” You kept your eyes to his plastron and followed scute lines with your fingertips.

You felt his head move as he tried to view your path.

You caught him with his neck bent forward as you snapped your attention up. “You really want to finally knock me up with me on top?”

You watched his pupils adjust to the prospect.

There was the language.

You told him that he was going to participate regardless.

There was the insinuation.

As it had all day, today was the day it was finally teetering on dangerous to fuck.

There was the challenge.

Was he going to be passive?

In one fluid motion, he dropped his center of gravity.

Excitement exploded in your belly and his elbows snapped akimbo. They led as his hands slid up into your shirt in a perfect slide. Smooth prints teased your spine and had you arching as he got to your bra. It took a single trace to the clasp and he barely had to flick to undo it. It was then, with a lift, that your entire upper ensemble was headed upward. You scrambled to lift your arms and just barely saved your chin from catching the fabric.

He hovered over you like a dance and your spine wilted dangerously from how much real estate he commanded. He beamed you a million watt smile before you heard the fabric plop onto the floor. The textures struck you and his arms came down to press into the curve of your back. He kept you safely dipped like a dancer there with one hand while the other danced around your front. It felt over your belly before a single digit found interest in your fly.

It worked expertly with a twist and flick until he was able to undo your trousers. They slacked open in the fold and he skimmed with that single hand around your waistband as if testing its tensile strength. The backs of your thighs burned from the weight distribution and your neck ached from having to hold up against gravity. Donnie only surveyed the curve of your body with faint flicks of his gaze as he instead focused on circling your hips.

With a sudden hook of his thumb, he levied half your bottoms and shoved down. The other side clung and it took a clean swipe from the opposite direction to catch them. He moved in a seesaw that had his thumb nail skimming more sensitive skin as he rocked your pants and underwear down. By the time they fell, your legs were threatening to do the same and only then did he scoop you up.

It was into his arms and you kicked out socked feet in glee as he carried you to bed. He perched you on the edge and the titillation pumped through your veins as he squatted in front of you. It sent you right back to imagery of your first night together and your inner muscles clenched onto that excitement.

“You are well aware of what we are about to get into.”

You nodded.

“Are you ready?”

“Very much so.”

“Show me, love.”

You gathered your knees and adjusted your positions. Already perched, you moved your pelvis forward as your shoulders came back. Your arms compensated for yet another lean, though this one was cushioned by a mattress. It read comfortable as your hands fisted the sheets and you split your legs to present for him.

He took you in with all his senses. It first came with the visual sight even though you could tell you were far from glistening. Excitement had only taken you so far, but he was completely enamored by your sex. He surveyed you with his exploding pupils before he reached, compelled. His warm finger skirted your outer lips and he pressed to see how engorged they were with blood. Arousal meant there was a heated layer and the cooler air of the room lapped at you in time with the way he licked his lips.

You rolled your hips eager and he lowered his head for his next sense. It was smell, and you’d grown accustomed to his scenting. He’d been sniffing you shamelessly in his daily examinations and it always looked to you like a master sommelier. His lips would part, letting the scent inhale deeply through his nostrils and cascade down his tongue. You imagined he picked up all sorts of notes that you couldn’t as he trended closer.

He breathed out then in and it was with one last striking whiff that nosed lightly at your clit. The tip of his beak invaded you for touch and your voice pitched behind warbled lips. He flicked a scolding glance up at you for trying to muffle your noises and when your mouth opened it was to breathily pant. He found that suitable and returned to his nosing. He was scenting, you could tell, but there was no snuffle. It was a slow and even thing meant to relish and, even though you couldn’t see him, you felt the moisture differently when his jaw parted.

You arched in time and met his tongue. A dainty tip, he mapped your folds first as if he didn’t already know your anatomy down to the cellular level. He gave a base level tasting lap and you whined at the lack of targeting. You watched his eyes surface in a rolling fashion and you frowned when you caught sight of him. He smiled against your cunt before pressing into your heat with his eyes still questioning you.

You mewled for him and it seemed like a satisfactory answer because he dove in. You puffed open relief as he licked into you with the accuracy you craved. He long knew exactly how to manipulate you on his tongue and you tossed your head back to give yourself over to him.

You jolted when he suddenly grabbed your feet.

In a tug, he used your surprise to throw you off balance and you fell onto your back. The bed was completely forgiving and you stared up at the canopy for exactly one second before his tongue shifted. He latched onto your clit in your toe tingling way and you barely cared he was still doing something to your feet. You imagined he was operating comical heavy machinery where the levers were your limbs because of the jarring push and pull of his movements.

His things swiped down and he hit some sort of pressure point in both your arches that ripped a moan from you. He slicked downward, dragging your growing wet on his tongue to taste and stimulate you. You squirmed, trying to get more, but he pushed your knees to fold. Your legs came, bent at the knee, and he shifted his weight to pour more over you. It pressed your thighs closer to your torso and you recognized the move even though it had been a long time since he last exercised it.

The mating press.

You chirped wanton for him at the thought and he churred straight into your sex at your revelation. You gave your mating call in aching need, but he demanded a bit more of you. It came with a swirling of his mouth and just enough suction that you could feel your insides weeping. The drip caused an audible pop when he unlatched that you could only hear as the final sense, sound, and he panted from what you imagined was a full assault of his senses. He then appeared, moving to stand in a growing form with your combined soaks painting his chin.

The moment he hit his full height was the same time you saw the bob of his cock. It bounced with him and hung a flag over your sex. You heaved a single time at the sight of it and were struck with one single thought:

This was going to get you pregnant.

A mating call warped off your lips before another slammed it out of the way. You couldn’t stop yourself as it sounded again and again on what hit your ears as a nagging repeat. The pitch was off and feral like a cat in heat. You ached for him, head lifting in the process and he only stared at your wanting form.

“D-Donnie…!” You finally managed amongst his seeming neglect. “P-please!”

He nodded and swept over you in what felt like a final moment.

Like you’d never be like this again.

Like something monumental was about to shift.

He then lowered enough to scoop up under your ass and scoot you forward. It made room for his knees and you continued to call out to him. He shushed you with a sharp mating response of his own and you bit down on your lip to try to stave off more. He was taking too long in his adjustments, but you knew there was purpose. You knew first hand how precarious the position could be. Your body was fully trapped beneath his while also being folded. It contracted and compressed your very being, but also made it so his pelvis could be aimed above yours. It also meant you had a full view of how his cock dangled down, scorched and ready to sear you.

Your vision honed in on the glisten of his member and trailed down where his tip pearled a perfect bead of pre.

Another mating call wormed up your throat which was decimated into a squeak as he pressed his glans to you. The heat felt like a boiling threat and you waited for him to plunge. Instead he continued to cater to his alignment before he rolled his hips so his cock ran against you. On your back and neck twisted in a position to view him, you saw his glans face you before they rolled backwards in their stroke. The oar of them flared there, returned once again, and then disappeared to catch your hole.

You wanted to sob at the torturous pace, but he so close.

“Please!” You shouted in spite of yourself.

He didn’t respond at all and only focused on a testing press.

It wasn’t enough to breach you and you groaned as loud as you could.

He chirped lightly, something faint and weary that you couldn't think much on before he wound upwards once and then descended.

Your eyes flew open and you watched as each delicious centimeter of him sank into your cunt. There was a pulse to your lips that marked the spread and soak as they peeled apart to grant him entry. He disappeared further, feeding into you and beading up your discharge. It cropped a creamy spill that pressed out at his size and clung around your entrance waiting for further use. His member widened, spreading toward the base of the knot and you saw the stretch of your lips grow taut.

He was then fully sheathed after what felt like hours and your head fell back. You panted lightly, all a mental exertion and felt sweat dot your brow. You were rushing, you knew. It was the incessant need and the many years built up to this moment. As he held in place, you saw all the rushing times you’d tried to devour each other. This wasn’t that and spoke to something far deeper. It roused you to be more present and you found him trying to look at your connection. His proportions meant he couldn’t and he lifted his head with the intent of a question pouring off him.

He wanted to know what it was like and you told him that it was quite the view. He churred a vibration that you felt dip inside you. You willed him to know that more would be better and he agreed to pull back the slightest amount. Your cunt clung to him, eager lips dragging against his length and each and every vein in an attempt to keep him. He barely made it a few inches before he plunged back in as if he couldn’t stand the cold room temperature. You chuckled at the thought of that sort of cockwarming and he probed your depths in interest at your laugh.

You almost responded until his ministrations found what he was looking for.

You then only gasped in pleasure and the cage of his body finally fell. He met you in a scoop of limbs and you pulled him closer. Your hips cried at the weight, but he rocked in a gentle massaging gesture. It eased the tension and his lips found yours with a roll of his tongue. He tasted and smelled like you.  Intoxication clouded your mind and you now, finally this moment, would be the time he'd give way to fuck you.

You broke your lip lock to pepper excitement across his face. He scrubbed into it, his beak moving side to side to catch all your little pecks. He tittered in a melodic chirp and joy caused your cunt to pulse. It warped a sound of almost paint off his lips and he melded your pelvises into a single shape as if to squash it.

“Not gonna last…” He whined suddenly.

“That’s…” You spoke before you fully understood his words.

How was that possible? 

He hadn't thrusted even once. 

He held deathly still and you moved your neck to view him.

Humiliation painted his feature and he would have tucked himself away if he could.

Sense exploded past your horny thoughts for the first time. 

He had showed all the signs. 

That's why he'd been anxious at the door. 

That's why he hadn't rushed to fuck you. 

That’s why he had been going so slow.

It wasn’t just to mark the occasion. 

It wasn't because he feared his ferality.

It was a startling amount of awareness that threatened him.

As much as you did, he knew what today was and what it meant. 

It made him so consciously excited that it went straight to his head.

He had been trying to stave off losing himself in a totally new way. 

An excited noise hummed in your throat.

He saw your glee and wilted against it.

“N-no!” You nudged him with your nose. “That’s good!”

“No.” He bit back.

“Yes.” You disagreed and extracted an arm from the tangle.

You found his cheek and he soured as there was an inherent movement that bobbed his cock.

“I can count the amount of times you’ve gotten close to cumming before me on one hand.”

He glared at you as if you’d pointed out his greatest failures.

You lightly pinched his cheek. “You’re so excited...”

He frowned deeply.

You kissed his relenting face. “I love you.”

“Please.”

“I do.” You pressed.

“Y/N.”

“How do my orgasmd work with conception again? I can't remember…” You absolutely did, but your partner was being too cute not to tease.

He ducked his head as much as he could.

You were too close for him to hide. “Donnie…?”

He grumbled something.

“What was that…?” You poked his cheek.

“It doesn’t…” He ground out.

“Then what’s the problem? I know you'll make me cum right after you do. Doesn’t it sound hot to pump your finger into me, push the cum deeper, until I’m writhing on it?”

He relented the smallest bit.

“I'm married to Donatello. Cumming is always a guarantee. It's like your customer satisfaction brand.”

“I wanted us together.”

“We can try… Has waiting helped?”

His grimace said not at all.

You moved your hips the slightest amount and the way his dropped to keep you still meant you felt exactly how he clenched to keep from cumming then and there.

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely cumming first.” You smiled.

His eyes closed, hopeless.

“You’re being a grump.” You kissed his cheek.

He let more of his body weight fall onto you in some sort of retribution, but you could only giggle.

“Come on…” You channeled as much energy as you could muster in your ass before you managed to flex.

Your innermost walls shifted around him and he gave a long sultry groan.

“That’s it…” You managed the same spasm with less effort.

He moaned your name.

“My sweet, sweet husband…” You encouraged, pulsing around him over and over.

“I’m going to…!” He panted.

“Go on. Fertilize me. I'm waiting.” You whispered against his head.

He exhaled sharply and you felt all of him twitch in one sharp movement. Where you hadn’t followed the trend of his spread or knot, they both seemed to inflate to their widest mass in a snap instant as he came. You felt each twitch of him as you weren’t in your throes. You pet his head before stroking  lower on his carapace to encourage him. You hit a spot that made him buck as he filled you deep.

He eventually breathed again, panting from having witheld, and rolled his head to the side to bump yours.

You rubbed his shell with a heavy hand.

He eventually churred at the feeling and lifted up to appraise you.

You smiled, ever ready for him.

His lids fell in a form of annoyance.

“I’m gonna make you cum until you beg me to stop.”

You pitched an excited noise as he yanked out of you. You felt his essence chase his cock and your limbs were released. You clenched immediately, trying to hold his seed in and he glimpsed the tightening of your sex as he climbed off the bed. 

His lips rounded and you saw focus slip from his gaze. You chose then to relax and the rebound flex of your walls squished out his spent. A tiny amount trickled against your labia and you heard Donnie gasp at the sight.

“Finally, right…?” You mused and assumed you were thinking the same thing.

You were finally stuffed with a potent load.

That chance of getting pregnant now existed.

You were both aiming to make it assured.

Donnie lurched forward and you readied yourself for his decree. He would make you cum. You imagined he would play out that scenario you had offered earlier and felt his cum drip to the swell of your ass.

That's where he would start, you thought. He would swipe it up expertly with those thick fingers of his and stuff the seminal fluid or whatever he had called it, back inside. He would then tease you until you were writhing.  

A tongue hit hot and wet against your ass cheek causing you to cry out your surprise. Your thighs were grabbed first before giving hands tucked under your body. He hoisted you up to meet his mouth as if there wasn't enough time for him to dip any lower.

Donnie swiped the trail of cum up and licked it straight back into you. His arms locked heavy around your body just in time for him to bury his snout hard into your sex, he breathed heavy desperation as his canines grazed your labia. Your voice hit a near painful pinch and you fought against the onslaught with grabbing hands.

You caught his mask in the fumble and pulled it so the back half lifted and the front blocked his vision. “What are you doing?!”

He sucked hard and you spasmed.

“Ah! Donnie-!” You meant to say more, but he let one of your legs drop to his shoulder so his thumb could strike your clit.

It was flint to steel, the sparks ignited and you cried his name in a new tone. It was no longer a question, but a burning desire. He slurped down noisily and the noise hit your ears to stoke. You were inflamed, rising up further than he was holding you as pressure dipped in and outward in tandem. His thumb swirled loose and comfortable against the slick and he routinely bumped his own nose.

His tongue traveled deep, seeking further in you than ever before and it marked a widening of his jaw. You felt the whole of his mouth encompass you until it pushed even his hand away. His teeth scraped over your punished clit and you screamed out as it sent you over.

It burned you to a white host crisp and the flames engulfed your vision. He pressed forth, seeking to destroy what was already ash on the ground. With one leg still over his shoulder, you snapped a heel down hard in hopes of stopping the siege. Your foot snagged one of his carapace injuries and scrape was enough for him to grunt free.

Knowing he'd lock back on, you bucked hard in your freedom and pelvic thrusted into his beak. It loosened his grip and you slid back to the bed. He held your single leg to his chest as a lifeline while you scrambled to slip your hands into your abused cunt. You did a quick check for blood as his teeth had been piercing. As far as you could tell it was clear from injury, but you glowered up at your mate.

“What was that!? You ate it?!”

He was the portrait of a captured criminal.

His mask was also still comically out of place and you tore it off him to wipe your hands. “What happened?”

He gave a pitiful chirp.

You swatted him with the wetted cloth.

He squirmed in a way that said its feeling repulsed him.

“Donatello!”

“As you’d expect!” He finally animated. “That I finally had a chance! That what was leaking from you had potential!”

“So you suck the potential out of me?!”

“The sperm is unaffected! You referenced the science prior!”

Your eyes flashed. “And I know it! Are you still mad because I didn’t listen one time?!”

“You act as though I insinuated such!”  

“Didn’t you?!” You stared him down ready to catch the slightest warp in his expression.

He matched you.

You stood off against each other for several seconds before you deferred.

You then both sat in an awkward heap where you were still spread and he was only half on the bed.

Donnie was the first to move.

“May I?” He asked with lowered lids.

You nodded, granting his request, whatever it was.

He was slow in skimming over you and making his journey known. He moved toward the apex between your legs and you presented for him. He took your willingness in with an emotionally wounded gaze that said he didn’t believe he deserved the kindness. You kneed his chin gently as soon as he was within range. 

“It's okay…” 

He wasn't as sure yet and only kissed the cap before shimmying downward until he was on his knees off the bed. He leaned forward, his face to your sex, and you felt him looking you over.

You knew he was checking for injury just as you had and he affirmed your health with a kiss to your clit. The sensitive bud felt tender, but his warmth came away like a balm. You exhaled slow and steady until he reappeared at your side. You squirmed further up the bed and he laid down beside you. You immediately glued yourself to him, cuddling close and leaning up for a kiss. He appraised you once before meeting you and it took several until he relaxed.

“Does that consumption offend you as well?”

You chuckled against him. “No, it just felt a little like a slight. Like you just filled me and you took it right away.”

He eyed you and you could feel his scientific correction was looming.

You pushed his plastron. “You know what I’m saying.”

His eyes closed and he shrugged as he did.

“It wasn't what I was expecting, but it wasn't bad. You surprised me.” You held your hand firm to his pectoral scute and flexed your fingers out. “As usual…” 

His body went a certain slack.

“We done for tonight…?”

He didn’t move as far as you could tell.

“It’s alright if so… I know that whole ‘make me cum until I beg’ line was you trying to make up for cumming too fast.”

His lip twitched.

“It’s really okay. You lost two kinds of control. That's gotta be overstimulating. I just want to set my expectations.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You pressed him.

“Look down.”

Your gaze plummeted southward on contact. 

All that was there was the mattress and your forearm resting atop sheets where it acted as a bridge between your bodies.

You heard a puff of laughter.

Your gaze shot right back up to see him trying to control giggles.

“I did what you said! Why are you-?!”

He couldn’t manage words and joy crinkled his gaze. 

He bobbed and bubbled until he got enough control to flick his pupils down the length of his body. You made a little irritated sound and embarrassment tried to form a complaint on your lips.

He had to cover his mouth. “My mistake. Please look easterly.”

You glowered at him once before glaring in that direction which led down his plastron.

It was the landing strip leading to his pointed purple member. His cock stood at full mass and its pink base had a redder tint than usual. That was typically a shade you only saw during his heat when his member wasn't able to return to the safety of his body. It was nowhere near Donnie’s season which meant instead his erection had persisted. 

The reason for which shot straight to your core. “O-Oh…!”

“It hasn’t gone down since we began…” He managed with a weary tone.

“But you came…?” You reached for his cock and it twitched away once before you made contact.

“As you stated, I am entirely too excited…”

You soothed his glans with a stroke.

They undulated under your grip, starving.

“So…?” That latent heat glowed in your cheeks, still smoldering.

“I can't predict when it'll go down.”

“Will you cum just as fast?” You felt excitement manifest as stars in your eyes.

His expression flattened out a bit. 

“I want you to.” You tinged your words with those ever present embers. “Cum again and again. I want to wring you dry. We’ll go until it calms down.”

He flushed at how eager you were.

“Just promise I can keep it this time.” You pleaded.

“So you do find cum eating offensive.” His attempt at distracting you from his unease was too obvious. 

You shoved him over onto his carapace and mounted him before he could protest.

“Wait-!” He tried to grab your hips.

“Nope. My terms now. You will-” You commanded, got yourself lined up, and sank down his length. “-cum.”

You felt his cock explode on contact with your heat.

“Oh fuck…!” You ground down on his ejaculate.

Donnie whined something high pitched before his throat eked out, “Sworn! No stopping! You call out tomorrow!”

You squealed happily as he rolled your conjoined bodies over to finally fuck you in earnest.

-

You were slow in opening the bathroom door.

It had been hard enough to muster up the energy for you to grab the handle.

Now that you had swiveled it and the mechanism had pulled the bolt back, it felt like painful irony.

One door led to another.

You saw the creak of space that led to your bedroom and with it came the heavy heart.

This was the transition point.

You stepped forward and felt the cotton between your legs.

It was another tangible omen.

It would disappear in time, but for now you were hyperaware.

The aptly named period product marked an end and was sopping up your failure.

One dark red drip at a time.

You walked out to where Donnie was already standing.

You’d left him sitting on the couch.

What had found him first?

The scent or your abysmal feelings through your wedding band?

You didn’t care because either way he knew and as your foot lifted for the next step, he was meeting it with his.

You reached one another, but didn’t connect.

You had to address it.

You stared down at your three feet and one prosthetic.

“Could it… be the implantation bleed?” You whispered as quietly as you could.

It would rob the words of their strength.

Without power, maybe you could convince them otherwise.

You could manifest them into the outcome you wanted and not the one that wasted seven days of trying.

Eighteen days since Donnie had made the calendar.

Twenty-seven days since your new menstrual cycle started.   

Except today it reset to one.

“There… is… a chance…?” Donnie tried, his voice as soft as yours.

You both met each other’s eyes in time.

You knew the truth then.

You hadn't gotten pregnant this cycle. 

These were only words.

It was the same as before.

Nothing had changed.

Not yet. 

1.73%.

💜 NEXT 💜

My body aches today, but my heart always aches with thanks for my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[mintythecup]

Heya there!

here's a post ab me and my boundaries that you should follow or i will be having a problem with.

My dicord link bc It somehow deleted itself:

My pronouns page!

(First time making this lmao)

First thing will be about me

My name is minty, known as mintythecup or cuphead_0 on discord!

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Here are my socials:

tumblr: mintythecup

Insta: _minty_the_cup_

Twitter: mintythecup

Tiktok: _cuphead.__

Discord: cuphead_0

Im also known as

@casinominty

@bloodlustau

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Two of my aus! I'm part of the better casino

My favorite characters

Boris, mugman, felix, surge, shadow, chips bettigan, striker, jax, zooble, Larry n lawrie, melodie, keromi

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I am 16 years old, my birthday is in july 18th.

I an nonbinary

I go by they/them and not she/her. Me and mintys pronouns are NOT the fucking same. Stop addressing my pronouns as her please.

I am an atheist and I will not accept being forced religion. That is a sin btw

Im an artist of 10 years and growing

My favorite colors are red. Blue, forest green, black, and wine red

My aesthetic is grudge and black royal type

I love talking but I am kind of closed off so don't force it.

Dont spam me. I will block you.

_____________~•°♧°•~_____________

Boundaries

I will not be tolerating any bullying or untrue rumors here. I will be blocking and ignoring you completely if I find out it's untrue.

I'm fine with any ship and any thing js along it isn't causing harm or problematic

No incest or shit like that, I will NOT tolerate it. This is a safe place for everything and everyone

Lgbtq. Therian, furry, religious, poc. Anything. You are welcome here and if anyone says otherwise blocked. Womp womp.

I accept fanarts, doesn't natter if your art is bad to you ill love it either way :] js along as it isn't uncomfortable art like unconsented nsfw.

I WILL NOT ACCEPT NSFW, I AM A KID AND ILL ONLY ACCEPT IF I KNOW AND FEEL COMFORTABLE AROUND YOU.

no sa, or abuse mentions or jokes. Do not joke about my situation or try make it seem like I was the problem. Also don't make fun of sa around me either. I am a victim of online and irl assault, I will not tolerate it

Please be mindful about your words, they can affect some people.

If you don't like my art or my au, leave and don't make a problem about it and we will be good. I do not wanna go on rough terms on getting into a meaningless argument when you could of js left instead of complaining

Hate comments. I will get rude about it, it may come off as immature slightly but I do have a right to defend myself, I won't respond to most of thrm but if it involves something serious, I will do something ab it

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Over all, js have fun and chill! Be free to send requests or something, I won't mind the slightest!

It took abit to write but i needed to let this out ^^♡

[pointless-party]

DO NOT HARASS ANYBODY BECAUSE OF THIS BLOG AND MY OPINIONS. JUST BLOCK ME AND MOVE ON.

REMEMBER THIS POST GOING FORWARD.

my sideblog for more unfiltered sparklecare thoughts. this is not a mindless hate account, but rather personal gripes i have with the comic and the fandom. i've been a fan since 2020 and the comic has helped me through rough spots, which is why i'm making this blog.

i'm not sharing my mainblog (even though it's proof enough that i've been a fan for a while) because i don't trust this fandom to not witch hunt me so just call me party. i'm 19, i use he/it/love pronouns (the E on love is optional), and i'm a gay aromantic trans man (along with xenogenders that aren't that important).

i probably won't make a lot of posts myself, so any submissions to other sparklecriticism blogs signed off with 🐍 are probably me. if my icon didn't give it away i am a preboot enjoyer and will likely talk about it sometimes, it's been a hyperfixation for two years so block me if that bothers you. more information under the cut if you want to vibe check me or something.

my problems can be summed up in these posts, which may occasionally be updated:

general issues x2

the odd relationship with the fandom

issues with tone in-comic

issues with barruni

nurse mood analysis

gay rep + aspec rep

art degradation

#oft is for non sparklecare related posts

kins; dr party [preboot + reboot], dr cuddles [preboot], president meat [preboot], hemera [reboot]

i like the preboot more than the reboot. i just think it's a lot funnier and dynamic than the reboot despite its many problems that i will admit it has. also it isn't as bad as some of you guys in the fandom are making it out to be, the reboot is just sterilized to hell and back.

i miss sick doom and dr livings. i miss them a lot.

[morguemaw]

Important.

So. I wanted to make this post, and my brother, and girlfriend have supported me. My brother knows this entire situation, but i wanted to come out about it because it has dealt alot of mental toll on me, and im scared of this creator. No, i dont want to interact or start drama. No, dont mention me to him. No, i dont want his apology. No, i dont want any pity. I just want to tell my story because it happened before, happened to me, and just because he has a "soft gay boy nice boy" attitude does NOT mean it wont happen again. What ill go over in this post roughly/you will get the impression of is;

Why i hate comparison

Why im fast to jump at conclusions/be defensive

and Why i mention my trauma with the UTMV community, specially under posts regarding art, art style, characters or character design.

And no, im not even posting this to try and tell people im some snowflake who cant handle criticism or compression, this is targeted to the people who have ill intent with those and go as far as to label things others do as copying or ripping off.

Yes, im okay. Yes, im going to continue what i do. No, im not wanting to send anyone after him. Please, just read what i have and understand that the way i am is because of something i have kept to myself and only 2-4 other people for the past 5 years.

Introduction.

To get it started, ill be calling this creator, he/him, by his publicly known name. However, ill also possibly switch from his name, to part of his username/nickname.

This creator in question, is the content creator named Lizherubones, also known as TwistedBones, thebastardbutcher ( here on tumblr, too. ) , ButcherZone, and his oldest username, Zippy3006. He sounds familiar because he was one of the bigger creators in the UTMV, back in the dark ages of fontcest being the normal. However, i will call him William, as that is his name, and its public information. He also goes by Will, so im sorry if i call him any variation of those names/usernames.

Other things you may read about in this is an old discontinued app called DoodleClub, a OC of mine named Ezher who is the reason why im making this post, as i wanted to draw and post him again, but the timeline will be abit scattered as trauma and blocked out memories happened because of this, however another important person, despite being lightly mentioned is another victim who i will simply call Az as of right now.

Ill try to keep this as short as i can within reason, there will be time gaps, there will be references to previous things mentioned, and if it gets rough i may even stumble on how i type and mention things too soon or later on, im very sorry.

The Start.

During the time of 2015-2016, i had first found Undertale. During it, i joined a app called DoodleClub, its where i met my brother, Glitchy. During this time, i had also joined Tumblr. With the rise and popularity of Undertale, i had seen alot of artists, some other popular names you may recognize is NSFWshamecave, BlogTheGreatRouge, and a few others whom aren't important to the story other then to get the gist of it, Lizherubones was one of the artists i had encountered, and grew attached to. I adored his style. To me, it was a perfect mesh of cartoony and pleasing aesthetics and anatomy that i just.. Well i loved it. This is when i got stupid. On DoodleClub, i would post artwork of either 100% traced or partly traced artwork of his, along with my own where i weakly attempted to mimic his style. Soon tho, i got too comfortable. Sometimes i sent him asks on or off anon, i drew him fanart, and on DoodleClub i even changed my username to "Twisted Bones", because i really liked that name. However, sometime a user, who i will just call Nutty for right now since its what i remember them by, they found out. Slowly, a few others did, and Nutty ended up reporting me to William. Now during this i never got screenshots, one screenshot i remember Nutty posting was one of William saying i was a loser for tracing, or something similar but equally short.

This ended fast, as people were on my side. But it didnt end there. Same day Nutty reported me, and word got out, i decided to confront William myself. I explained that i was sorry, i wouldnt do it again, and i saw him as a idol and wanted forgiveness. I was terrified and at my grandmothers trying to hide me talking to a almost 30 year old man about traced work. The first trauma tick with him, was when he threatened legal action against me, saying and i quote, 'Your parents will have to pay alot of money'.

May i tell you a few things;

I was a CHILD at the time. 11-12 years old, not even classified as a Teen yet. I couldnt legally be sued.

He lives in Chile Brazil, i live in Michigan USA. After about a year, and also after a third situation that happened that caused me to do alot of at the time feeling smart teen research, he couldnt have even attempted a law suit because of the fact i wasnt making money off the traced work, and that the laws are different in both states and countries regarding copyrighted content. Not just that but.. He was too far, and would have to come to me. Which again, different locations = different laws, and so on.

As stated above, i made 0 money or even thought to off his traced content. In my mind at the time, i just traced to learn the style, and ill even say it that from what i remember, i didnt trace enough to have it be my main thing.

After this, he commanded me to delete all my work, and to never return to the internet. Which i did.

Return of the Deja Vu (Instagram Arch).

Skipping to 2017, my slow return to the internet. I had gotten Instagram and decided i still wanted to draw. However, like a cow being branded, his style still stayed in my mind. Though, this time it was just muscle memory.

During both this interaction and the previous, both times William had stated his art , characters, and even worse the colors used on them were copyrighted.

In the end of this, because the more important one comes next, is people kept tagging him in my work. Saying it was familiar, asking if it was his characters, ect. Which lead to him messaging me on my now forgotten account, once again threatening the law to me. This time, however, i just told him to leave me alone as i wasnt doing anything. He had also made comments and remarks on my artwork like, "This just looks like a human version i did", or "Looks like a draw i made." ect, ect. I had made a very old, possibly lost Reddit account talking about this, which was made just within the same week of him telling me these. This situation ended fast, mainly because i went inactive on this account. If the name Zure/Zhure sounds familiar, that was apart of my user at the time.

The Big Blowout (Twitter Arch).

This is where my links and pictures come in. All are screenshotted from Twitter. This is also where i can provide more proof of things. I will mostly gloss over everything, as its foggy for me. The timeline is roughly 2019. On twitter, i still was ignorant and blind to this all. Rose tinted glasses. I wanted to just be seen by someone i looked up to and just get a small sorry if he even felt any pity. On Twitter, i began posting. I began to also like his art, but never followed. Just to try and gain his attention. This ended badly, however. After i first not only made a suggestive Human Swap Sans, at the time not realizing at this point what i was doing was taking inspiration from him rather then trying to copy, but i had also made a OC named Ezher.

Ezher was the main breaking point.

This is Ezher;

As you can clearly see, yes, he looks alot like William's own OC, Rheiz. , However, i remember clearly the source of what i liked most about Rheiz was the marks in his hair and the dark to light hoodie he wore. Something extremely important, but when i made Ezher, William was a faint memory to me at the time. So when i say source pf his OC, it was a distant memory and i didnt think much when i created him. Off topic note, but turns out that while talking to someone William considers a close friend, all i did was make Ezher half red, half blue and that made Ezher original. Who knew a color tied his fate. Sound familiar? Thats because mentioned earlier, William told me previously that he had characters that were copyrighted. He also mentioned that using the same colors as his characters was wrong, too.

Ezher will be getting a update and will be coming back. When Will found out about this, is when shit hit the fan. I got many, many @'s like this;

^ Mind you in the last screenshot, i was trying. I really was. A user named SnoweyBones also made a message on their Twitter, telling people to report me. This got my acc taken down. This is only a small part of what i personally could find. I roughly remember screenshotting the DMs + others, but they are either lost to time or something else.

If you couldnt tell, the gist of it was, William had made a post about me somewhere which in return led to a mob.

This scared me off the internet for abit, and i went into hiding for awhile until my brother started to give me more confidence, and i realized that everything that happened,

was all because someone was egotistical about a artstyle and monochromatic color scheme.

^ That was my old account. Very easy to find however, so it is what it is.

Things i found, Things you should know.

To once again clarify, im not seeking pity nor revenge. Im wanting to shed light and say my story about this artist, because this isnt the first time he has done this, let alone something terrible.

William has attacked another creator, this same creator he is following on Twitter and acting like nothing happened.

There was a situation creepily similar to mine that occurred not too long before my own. Similar insults and similar situations.

v link

William has a history of attacking other creators. His reasoning is that his own trauma is the cause of his actions. I have trauma with him, and the furthest i ever went was when someone used my characters (in my eyes) unique name for themselves and created a sexual variant of my OC without my consent and proceeded to openly complain, insult, and suicide bait members around them because i rightfully called them out for doing something with something of mine i didnt like, didnt let them do, nor would have ever consented to.

To sum it up.

Im not doing this as revenge. Im not doing this as pity. Because again, a close friend of his helped me and made me feel better during his final attack on me and helped me still connect to a OC of mine.

Im doing this because its for me a traumatic experience and a reason why i tend to act the way i do. Im scared to post certain characters, art, or ect without the fear of him coming around or others comparing me to him.

Again, my OC Ezher was the starting point of this. I want to draw him and love him again, but im scared of William.

Even if i have a whole redesign in mind, even if he doesnt remember me or even bother with me, even if no one cares or even if the community now isnt so butthole tight about stupid things like similar color schemes or aesthetics, its still something that affects me and has affected how enjoy the fandom.

Repeating this, but im not even posting this to try and tell people im some snowflake who cant handle criticism or compression, this is targeted to the people who have ill intent with those and go as far as to label things others do as copying or ripping off.

[ethernetmeep]

did two medium tests of sorts as i procrastinated.. technically three, if you count the attempt during school hours

1. PASTEL.

hands covered in a neon green powder… ugh. not to the color, just the texture. i hate having powder on my hands, i don’t like paint on my fingers. it feels odd, like im covered in goop and Not in a Fun way. then again, when is it ever fun…

tried a q-tip but fingertips work better, to some degree… infuriating. so much residue; lucky i didn’t get anything on my white dracula shirt im still wearing. drew a random figure & scrawled out the face after attempts of trying to draw one in with the rectangular block

it looks fascinating, but the medium itself is so, so infuriating to me. complex for no reason. dislike, but simultaneously fascinated.. will have to do further testing

2. NAIL…. POLISH….

went for materials that aren’t exactly for something like sketching. smell is overpowering; used up a nail polish container, therefore getting rid of some of my girlhood…. air quotes, since i both never really used nail polish + anyone can wear it. couldnt draw anything, did abstract. hated what i made. nail polish ≠ fun material on paper

tested out the metallic green tempra paint i have, too.. i talked about that before. its smell was also.. not great. crumpled up the paper with my abstract meddling, paint container back beside my bed. no clue why its there, but i don’t wish to break that routine.

3. LIPSTICK

the medium i used during school hours, since i gifted my friend makeup i didn’t use.. once again, distributing and getting rid of things that some would associate with girlhood, air quotes once more. did some swatches on paper, liked some of them; gave her the ones i wouldn’t use. she was extremely appreciative. she read my letter & proof-read it, so i consider this an equal exchange.

i… really liked using them, honestly. i liked not having to have real skin to material during the process. smudgy? yes. takes awhile to dry? yes. interesting? yes! so, so much cleaner than pastel…

i simply made a portrait to test the lipsticks out, liked the result. it now hangs on my wall via tape, where that list used to be.

a bit rough around the edges, but i like that. i like art that is worn & tattered

[thatdeadaquarius]

i NEED to see more of your art !!!!!

*bats eyelashes* this is a threat.

AHFLALSDHA WHAT- STOP GET OUT NO U DONT PLEASE-

U WANNA SEE MY ART??!!

IVE BEEN WAITING FOR YEARRSSS FOR SOMEONE TO SEE MY ART-

For future standalone posts like Possession AU/actual Fanfics/Non-Asks I'll probably add some of my art as a fun visual, since it sucks the closest I can get is gifs to feeling more immersed! :/

These I drew over the past 2-3 weeks! They're my lovely OCS, left to right, Lucille, Mara and Sabrina! They're story is a big fat beautiful shit on JK Rowl*ng! Lucille is a black lesbian successful trans woman/future magic council-woman, Mara is a japanese-american hard-headed/bold sapphic woman/future professional magical athlete, and Sabrina is a plus-size queer woman/future professional magical plants necromancer! They're in my twist on Harry Potter universe, where they all go to magical university, and the point is that Mara and Lucille are infamous school rivals, but then fall in love/fall in love with Sabrina too! A magical gay polycule if u will, I've written 2 short stories about them for my fiction class so far!

SHEESH, DO ME A FAVOR AND CLICK FOR QUALITY!!

this was my last project for my illustration 2 class! I have a physical comic book/zine I'm making, but this is the summary TLDR digital piece lol, its actually a sort of isekai of myself into Percy Jackson and changing his fate for the better! (Yes ik his anatomy is ROUGH, dont look at him too hard- SOBS)

Here's an earlier project this year from Illustration 2, I got an article I had to make illustrations for, to help you understand it/add aesthetic to it! My subject was Cosmic Topology, pretty sick topic if u ever wanna look it up, it's about the shape of the universe! :0

^^^

And these-

are the gifs from that art exhibition I talked so much about the past couple weeks! It was my senior art exhibition (a requirement to display art in the uni gallery to graduate!)

irl photos under this text block!

These are actually being projected across pages in a fake photo album/prom guestbook thingy, fully interactive so u can turn the pages and it shows a new animation, like a magical storybook! Also, since it's prom themed, I made it a kinda guestbook/sign book so gallery viewers can get some glitter pens I left out to sign the end of it! I also have a playlist I made playing in the gallery along with it so it's like what they'd play at this prom! :) hope that made sense!

The content is that the girl you see walking around in white is getting social anxiety/stressed out, to the point of dissociating, as a way of doing my theme I've kept up for university of things appearing darker than they initially look (hence the colors + I love colors), and to bring awareness to mental health!

welp, didnt mean to include all that black space, but that's my artist statement too! (u cant see the prints in the pictures, that's just my interactive piece I was talking about!)

hope if u click on the statement it's readable lol

Just click on the Alt text, I pasted it there 😭 also the piece is called

"You're the Star of the Night (you're dissociating)!"

Tumblr hates me so I just made the gif of me actually turning the pages into a link/QR code thingy! feel free to check out if u want :)

Uh anyway, if you made it this far, thank you so much!

Can't wait to make more fanart tbh lol

AND THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN FOR ASKING ORAH!! (sorry it wasnt more genshin stuff whoops...) RLLY HOPE I DIDNT SPAM U TOO HARD-

Safe travels,

💀♒️

[audiovisualrecall]

Here is what i wrote:

I posted these not because I wanted compliments (though I appreciate them! I love that other people like what I make!) but rather to say, look, it's not 'talent', it's practice. I had to train my brain to understand how to draw the way I do now. It didn't appear overnight and it wasn't in me from birth, the only thing I had was a love of creating things and an inability to not create things. A love of art, or making, and a stubbornness to draw things I liked a lot. An obsession with a certain subject that I wanted to draw a lot.

A lot of those things i made were 'bad', were things I don't display and wouldn't normally post. People with absurdly long arms, dragons with wings that make no sense at all, faces with eyes two vastly different sizes, cats with impractical proportions, awkward, stilted action scenes, buildings and cars that barely resemble either. But they got me where I am. And I still struggle with translating my vision to paper, and I still make things and go ehhh nope, I absolutely look at other people's artwork and go 'I want to draw/paint like that!' Or even, 'I hate that I can't make my work look like that'. I just don't really let that stop me from creating something, anything at all, generally speaking. Artist's block happens, of course.

And also, while pretty, finished pieces with full color or shading are nice, enjoyable to look at, or to hang on a wall or to post and say proudly look what I made, enjoy it, tell me what you think!.... that's not the be-all end-all of Art. Appreciating the journey and the rough sketches and the silly doodles is important because all of that is just as much art as the finished, glossy thing.

I don't draw cars much because I'm bad at it and I don't like looking at or making bad art, even though I *know* I can only get better at it with practice, but it feels like a waste of my time *because cars are not a subject I'm interested in* and I only have so much free time to make art in. But that's the key thing, there, what I starred: if I love/am interested in/obsessed with the subject I'm drawing, I will keep trying and keep doodling and sketching and painting it even if what I put out doesn't look right to me, doesn't look like how I want it to, doesn't say what I want it to, isn't 'perfect'.

This is all to say, please never say you cant be an artist, you cant draw, you cant draw like [so and so], you can't draw a straight line (neither can I! Its surprisingly not that important to art!), or tell artists they're so talented, because that's all really just self deprecating and defeatist, please just try. And try again. And keep drawing and look at what you make and look for the things you like about it. And then keep doing it. Try it differently. Try it messy, try it loud, try drawing to music or while listening to audio books, try it with crayons, with charcoal, with children's watercolors, with fancy materials, with basic no.2 pencils. Just create, even if it's 'bad'!

Just... final note: You don't need to take shortcuts to produce fanart of your favorite thing. You really don't want ro try drawing? Consider commissioning an artist, maybe?

Intimidated by the idea of practicing for years when all you want is to have finished pieces you can be proud of? I'm...not sure what to tell you, there. I used to look for artists on deviantart with color-able pern dragon 'bases' that I would then color in and share with credit. You could also do collages or mood boards or see if snyome has any coloring pages or paint by numbers, because those are fun to do and enjoy. But you can make art. I recommend crayons or pastels or markers, tbh. sometimes pencil is...difficult to do some things with. You can stick to one or two colors or go crazy with colors.'

....I kinda ran out of steam at the end there but I'm hoping someone sees it and it helps someone. The real thing the ai discussion has brought to my attention is that SO many people think they absolutely cannot draw, they didn't get some magical gift to be able to have the talent for it, and that means they can't pick up a pencil and draw anyway because it'll be bad, and they don't want to draw badly they want to draw really really good, because they want to be able to post pretty, glossy, finished pieces that match the image in their minds, and they want other people to see it and compliment their artwork and enjoy it. And they don't want to hear that it can take at least 10-15 years to go from 'bad' drawings to 'good', polished work. (Even tho it's not a strict linear progression, anyway).