#need to also scrounge for some art

[tangsvem]

Hello there. I am Tangsvem.

Call me Tangs or Novem!

This acc is for my more nsfw stuff(main is very non-nsfw) of Hermitcraft Traffic series and such. Also do art of my OCs

Will say very shit at nsfw drawings and this is for more indulging in nsfw shit but separate it from main

Though I will say I’ll stay away from minor/adult stuff(it generally makes me feel uncomfortable but like a year or so age gap yeah sure fine).

I use any pronouns!

Send asks! Would love to chatter!

#tangsart - art post

#vemchatter - normal chatter

#tangsOCS - my OCs

And that’s all for now I believe?

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

[velnna]

i want to say, i ADORE the limb differences (other words for 'missing limbs' that i prefer to use) in the under garden, from the art of them that youve posted on here!! absints lower arm for example :)

i havent read yet, i havent been able to scrounge up the money to buy (hopefully soon!!) but im super excited to buy and read for many reasons, this among them!!

but just, seeing characters with limb differences who are still cool and important and often seem powerful.. it just gives me hope and makes me feel seen!! fantasy is my ansolute favorite genre, but im disabled and i havent found much fantasy stuff that includes disabled characters at All, i can count on one hand the amount of disabled characters ive seen in fantasy stuff :,)

i dont have a limb difference myself (degenerative disc disease and worsening hearing for me) but seeing ANY disabled character is just so lovely, it brings me joy :,) so thank you for including characters with disabilities!!!! it doesnt go unnoticed, and its heavily appreciated and wonderful to see!!

it also makes me curious, do you have any characters in the under garden who are disabled in other ways?? vision, hearing, mobility related conditions, etc? having just one type of disability repped is also amazing regardless of if you have others of course, im just curious :)

and if you ever need a disability-related sensitivity reader/info person based on lived experience for anything, if you ever make a post about it id definitely hit you up XD

have a lovely week, and i hope this ramble isnt too huge haha!

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy it when you do manage to read it 🖤🖤🖤

The Under Garden has a couple of separate "storylines" with their own casts and we haven't set everything in stone for most of them, so take this with a grain of salt. Amongst primary and secondary cast, we have a couple of people with disabilities/chronic pain from injuries, medical complications, etc, some more explicitly shown than others. Technically Ashton, for instance, has a degenerative condition (loosely linked to the idea of butterflies having a very short lifespan after cocooning) and it's a big part of his role in the story overall

There's other instances of characters that could potentially have parallels to real world illnesses or disabilities but they're so intertwined with magical/fantasy mechanics that it's up to each reader to see how they feel about it.

Oh and we're toying with the idea of one of our main characters having a severe hearing impediment but it's a WIP because it might actually affect the plot

[ateriblewriter]

Butterflies (t.z)

Continuation of I’m Here

TRIGGERS: self harm, self worth, hinting at other things (if you or anyone ever needs help please do reach out)

a/n: sorry this a year late. but here it is! read with caution.

Enjoy?

"Do you have any sharpies? Or a permanent marker or something like that?" Trevor untangled himself from around your body when he felt the time was right. He didn't wait for your answer before he started to rummage through the drawers of junk that were in the kitchen.

Trevor wasn't about to act like he all the answers in world or like he was going to be the one to fix you. Because in reality that would be impossible, you needed someone trained in that field to help you long term. But that didn't mean that he couldn't help in the moment or at least try.

And he had an idea, something that he had seen when he was younger. A reminder for when your feelings got a little too big for you to handle by yourself. It also a place holder until he was able to help you find the correct help you needed. Because he wasn't going to leave you alone to deal with this on your own.

"Um. I think there might be one in the cup next to the sink." You mumble trying to remember where they were. You knew you had some. "Or else it's in with my art supplies. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Hey now. There is nothing to be sorry about y/n." Trevor carried you over to your couch and making his way to your art corner to start scrounging around for that marker.

It took him a minute to find your collection, it turned out they were with the art supplies that hadn't been touched in months. He picked out two colors, purple and blue, your favorite color along with one of his.

Returning to where he had left you, he made himself comfortable. He snagged a blanket from the bin and laid it across the both of you. Trevor wasn't

"Give me your arm" He said, not asking. You didn't have the strength to question what his motives were, so you presented him with your wrist full of healing scars. He grimmaced seeing them, wondering how long this had been going on and why he didn't notice earlier.

Trevor took the purple marker starting to draw something. He started off with the body, adding some sort of antenna to what was supposed to be it head. He then took the blue marker and made wings on either side of its body.

"A butterfly?" You question rubbing and tracing over the temporary tattoo with the tip of your finger.

Your friend nodded and explained the simple rules: you want the butterfly to live by letting it fade naturally and reapplying it when you feel that certain urge. Oh and if you do act on those urges the butterfly dies.

You could do that. Or at least try. It seemed easy enough.

"You think she's gonna like it?" Trevor asked peeling off the bandage that once covered his newly acquired tattoo that laid on his right shoulder. He was looking to get something new to add to his collection of art in his body and he chose a butterfly design.

"A butterfly?" Mason scratched his head. He was a little unimpressed and a bit confused. But that's because he didn't know the significance of the creature. "I don't know man, it just seems kind of-"

"Perfect, right?" Trevor finished his sentence. He had grabbed a warm wash cloth to clean the remaining goop off.

"I was gonna say weird. But whatever floats your boat." The younger man shrugged. He didn't care what Trevor decided to put on his body.

Trevor groaned, quickly finishing up his tattoo care so they could go meet up with you. You would like the new ink, he was pretty positive of it. He just needed to show it to you know.

You weren't paying attention to what you were doing. Sometimes you do things and it just sort of happens and you don't really remember it. It was almost like you were in some sort of trance. A trance that had you acting upon some of those heavy feelings that had been plaguing you lately.

"Shit" You mumbled when you heard the knocking on the door. You had completely forgotten that Trevor and Mason were coming over. There was a fresh mark on your arm that you needed to take care of.

You hurried to the bathroom in search of some sort of bandage for your arm. Maybe you could play it off as an accident. You didn't need to tell Trevor what had happened. It would be fine right? Oh god you hoped Trevor wouldn't notice.

You just found a bandage, when you spotted the butterfly you had just drawn on your arm the day before. You panic a little, the drawing didn't have a purpose anymore and had to go. You drop the band-aid to reach for a nail scrubber and start to get rid of the butterfly.

"Come on, Y/n, open the door!" Trevor banged on the door again.

"You think she forgot?" Mason crossed his arms. It wouldn't be the first time it slipped her mind that they were supposed to hang.

"No we were talking about it earlier. I highly doubt she forgot so soon." Trevor frowned unsure what to do. Should he wait for you, maybe you were still getting ready. But he had a sinking suspicion that wasn't the case.

Trevor fished the key you had given him out of his pocket and opened the door. He suggested Mason stay there. Mason had no idea what Trevor had walked into last time something like this had happened, so he agreed to stay put.

Cautiously he entered your apartment and started to look around for you. He found you in the bathroom scrubbing away. He notice the red on your arm and put two and two together.

"Hey, Y/n?" He called out. He wasn't fully sure if you had completely heard him so he tried reaching you again. "Can you hear me?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry" You continue what you were doing.

"Hey. Listen to me. You're okay. It happens. I'm not mad." Trevor wanted to grab onto your wrists to get you to stop scrubbing at the butterfly that had already been cleanly washed off, but you swore you could still see a piece of it. Instead he grabbed onto your shoulders and turned you to face him so wrap his arms around you and pull you in close. "It's okay. Wanna draw a new one?"

Let me know what you think! Anything is appreciated!

[coff-in]

You know that last post about Andy being a reluctant sex maniac? It occurs to me if he really could just bust that hard on a daily basis, he'd probably like to experiment a little with it (maybe in a way that won't put someone in a hospital though). Say maybe you're stuck without food so he makes a, say, special bowl of clam chowder- extra thick and salty, just for you. (No you can't ask how he made it. It's a secret. Shut up. No don't share it with Ashley she can get something on her own.)

Then, by some miracle, you actually like it enough that you might try it again later, and he feels like just hearing that feedback gave his body the express command to refill right the fuck back up with enough for another few batches. Then, if he gets the food needed (probably from a more resourceful [reader] scrounging up some more ingredients) he starts putting it in other things he makes when nobody else is looking- the mayonnaise in your sandwich, the glazing of some rolls, the batter for some pancakes, a special protein shake- you think he's really on a roll with learning new recipes and getting some passion for the culinary arts during these rough days, but at the heart of it he's really just gotten addicted to the thought of filling you up with his jizz.

Somehow I think Ashley would do something similar- though she probably wouldn't be as good at hiding it or being too subtle. If it wouldn't be putting her cum into random things you and Andy had to eat, it'd be her bargaining a random neighbor off to a devil so she can lactate at will, then insisting on pouring you all a nice glass of milk for breakfast each day. And if she ever actually gets to know about Andrew and sees he's also doing funny shit with what you've been serving, she'd egg him on to go further and combine their "resources" to see what they can get away with, and ask for discreet lessons in cooking so she can feed you her own tainted dishes. And you'd be so, so incapable of just turning the two down, because as far as you know, hey, they made it for you! Poor, immature Ashley learned to make something nice from her sweet big brother just to make you happy! You wouldn't turn down a helping of special-made, sugar-glazed, extra-protein pancakes just because they taste a little off sometimes, would you?

notes from coff-in: reluctant sex maniac andrew my beloved <3 you guys don't understand the emotion i felt waking up at 6 o'clock in the morning and seeing that in my inbox. went through several stages of disgusted, amused, and horny. andrew must be tired slinging that huge log between his legs, having everyone tease him about that thick outline in his pants or the round bulge... he could hide it in me if he wants to

[gender neutral] reader-insert, NSFW

if [reader] was like me they'd eat anything edible without question. andrew hands them fucking extra creamy clam chowder and [reader]'s like "aw hell yeah, thanks :)" like NOO??? where tf did he get EXTRA CREAMY CLAM CHOWDER??? and why can't ashley eat any??? wouldn't question anything, just thankful to be eating something while stick in quarantine

the "mayo" sandwich is so funny for that fan service/horny potential because maybe andrew adds too much and when [reader] takes a bite, the mayo just squirts out the sandwich from the other end. they scoop it up with their fingers and then suck it, running their tongue over their fingers going "mmmh! it's kinda salty but it's tastes good!" andrew's watching [reader] eat with wide eyes and feels another batch weighing heavy in his balls, waiting to enter [reader]

i like to think that in this scenario that [reader] is good friends with andrew and ashley. yeah sometimes [reader]'s eyes wander towards andrew's uncomfortably, unreasonably big and needy endowments (never letting that go) but they still like andrew for the cynical english nerd that he is and ashley for the annoying and teasing girl that she is. i think that's how ashley came to think "yeah... i wanna feed them my fluids"

she'd be so teasing about it, hinting that it's "made with love" and it's a "family recipe" while they drink coffer made with her breast milk (maybe it's a breast milk tea for [reader] if they don't like coffee). it's a crazy thought seeing ashley standing over a dead body in the middle of a pentagram talking to a demonic entity "i want to be able to lactate" crazy...

andrew and ashley sneak around the kitchen so they could have their "cooking lessons" while [reader] is sleeping. i think [reader] would try to make them something in return, an honest and genuine attempt at a meal to say thank you to them "i know it's not as good as your food but i really appreciate you guys and the food you've been making me" it touches andrew and ashley's hearts

they get off to the idea of [reader] taking the "special ingredients" straight from the source :3

----

coff-in

[dinozarr]

tutee!choso since technically the poll won… ¹⁸⁺

𝐓𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐄!𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 . . . wasn’t the brightest tool in the shed when it came to his language arts. he wasn’t normally a verbal guy, let alone learning how to use grammar and punctuation properly. normally, he wouldn’t mind going about his day with a 36% average in his class, but he’d realized that exam season was closing in on him and when exam season neared, the end of school did as well.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀asking for extra credit was definitely out of the question, his teachers already hating the man for his lack of focus in class. he spent numerous hours hovering over his computer as if he were some sort of discord mod, scrounging the internet for a tutor who would give him lessons out of the kindness of their heart. with no fees, of course. he was a university student after all, so money was no where close to being in his name.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀however, after mentioning his situation to his cousin Noritoshi, the kid had given the man your contact information after he had also been tutored by you and passed his exams with flying colors. to say Choso was anxious to contact you would be a complete understatement. it took for his brother Yuuji to hype him up in order for him to even send a simple “hi” text.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it wasn’t that he was nervous to talk to you in particular. he just got nervous around women in general. he swore that they terrified him, let alone talking to one would send him into a cardiac arrest. yet, when he met up with you at the library he found himself warming up to you faster than he expected. it took a few pushes of you asking him the same questions until he alas answered, but once he realized you weren’t going to be letting down anytime soon, he stopped forcing himself.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the first few sessions were simple ice breakers. you pestering him about his life and family; him barely being able to answer you, let alone look you in the eyes. the way he fidgeted with his thumbs at the hems of his textbooks, and how he shook his leg at a lightning pace made his uncomfortable aura all to radiant. yet, you were used to guys with his personality. it was common for them to “want” a tutor, or at least pretend to need one just to talk to a girl. choso wasn’t like them though, he could barely speak more than a murmur with you, so you knew that he was here for just the knowledge.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀or so you thought.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀because, the day he watched as you made your way into his dorm room with a cropped black tank top and a pair of puffy pink short shorts with your matching black boxer briefs rimming around your waist, he could feel the fabric of his joggers tighten by the millisecond. you noticed how he’d reverted back to his stammering and nerve-racking ways after spending weeks building up the courage just to speak a proper sentence to you. it was quite odd, you thought. yet, didn’t put much effort behind the inquiry, simply just disregarding it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀never would you have thought that you’d be balls deep on his dick, curling your hips with every movement you made on him. your arms were wrapped loosely around his neck with your fingers delicately entwining with his thick locks in the back of his head. each time you lifted yourself just to drop back down, you rolled your waist and felt as choso utterly melted beneath you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the man had regressed into nothing more of a puddle beneath you. the noises that left his quivering lips had your stomach jumbling together like a paper ball that you’d pass around the classroom. his large hands rested on either side of your body, the skim of his nails delving into the flesh of your ass and causing you to bite down on your bottom lip. the entirety of the man’s focus was on your chest that was front and center in his face, watching attentively as they bounced with each action you made.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ his erection had filled you up entirely, the girth of it far bigger than you could’ve imagined. the veins that dragged along the sides, and bottom rummaged your juicy walls eagerly. your dripping cunt had sucked him in so smoothly you swore you could see stars the deeper he entered you. only halfway in and his throbbing tip that was already leaking in his pre-cum was rubbing your cervix. never would you have thought you’d be a gasping and groaning mess when taking in a guys dick so well. you also didn’t think choso would be the first student you’d hook up with, but there’s always a first.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀tears stained the man’s cheeks, his eyes coaxed in those same glossy reflection as he gazed up at you with nothing but pure admiration whirling within his chocolate irises.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “i-i-i’m sorry if i’m hurting you-”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “shut up” stating simply, you pressed your swollen lips against his to suppress the moans you felt building up in your core.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his upward thrusts that met you halfway left your already sore legs, jello-like. you pushed your body onto his more while pulling him closer, your stomachs almost touching with how aggressive your actions were.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ you were both close, choso’s thrusts becoming sloppier and your moans getting louder. soon enough he was full on crying through his orgasm while your eyes rolled back with your hands planted solidly against his bare chest. your mouth was open just a slither prior to laying your forehead against his shoulder, each of you heaving uncontrollably.

NOTEZ : i need to start writing for more characters bro🧑‍🦯🧑‍🦯 might do attack on titan next idk idk

ᶻ z Z ! © TAKST4Z — all rights reserved. mature discretion. please do not plagiarize or steal any of my works or graphics.

[oharamwah]

inspired by fan art. but i feel like yn would be a little nervous whenever miguel kisses her neck because she thinks he’s bite her? and when he leans in for a kiss she gets jumpy and he’s like “ ??? you okay babe? ”

♡☆ — safety first : you and miguel make a safe signal for whenever you need it. → 1.6k

boyfriend!miguel x gn!reader

contents : accidentally scary miguel, flangst ? sorta ? it’s like fluff angst then fluff again ahah, and miguel being sorry :( also miguel calling the reader baby LOL, and cussing. like once.

posted july 28th - to be edited !

© oharamwah, please do not steal my work.

everyone in miguel’s life knows that when miguel is working, he works for hours.

he’s what some call a workaholic — he had been working on a particularly difficult case one week, allowing it to consume his entire life. he knew it was unhealthy, but he values his job more than anything else.

almost anything.

for a long time, miguel swung solo. he never saw the importance of love nor did he desire it. he always said that love and work could never be 100% balanced, and so he lived that way. loveless. and he was okay with that.

but things changed when a very special person entered his life, because things always change, one way or another.

##

9:00 pm — you’re lying in bed, scrolling on your laptop while waiting for your postmates to arrive.

to you, it’s any normal day off. you had gotten hurt pretty badly while on a faraway mission with jess and gwen the previous night, so miguel allowed you to take a few rest days.

if you were anyone else, miguel wouldn’t care.

“you signed up for this.” was his usual response, but he’d never talk to you like that. not a chance.

you sigh as you look at the clock.

‘it’s been 10 minutes already, where’s my food?’ you pout.

and that’s when you hear knocking on your apartment door.

you practically jump out of bed and sprint, so excited to eat dinner. but there’s no delivery guy when you open the door — instead it’s your boyfriend, miguel.

he’s got a proud smile on his face. he’s wearing the best outfit he could scrounge up and he’s holding what appears to be a very messily handmade bouquet, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a dark red ribbon.

“delivery for the most beautiful in all the multiverse.”

his cheesy entrance makes you laugh — he looks awfully sweet right now. miguel’s made small gestures like this in the past, bringing you lunch on weekends or even just coming by after work to say hello and spend the evening with you. seeing you is his love language after all.

“miguel!” you squeal, “i thought you were working?”

you move out of the way to let him in and he does so, removing his shoes and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“i was, but i wanted to check up on you.”

you shut the door behind you and tip toe up at miguel, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him just an inch closer.

before your lips can touch, he whispers, “evening, lovely.”

you smile and press your lips against his, the taste of your chapstick coating his mouth. you missed him during your singular day off.

the two of you shuffle over to the living room, barely breaking the kiss. you can tell he missed you too. he’s placed the bouquet on the coffee table and you two sit on the couch, with you resting securely in his lap. you can feel your skin warm up wherever his hands go.

he quickly removes his jacket and tosses it beside him, his lips starting to separate from yours. he’s peppering small kisses all over, starting on your lips, then moving to your cheek, and then he’s at your jawline, before he ends up at your neck. he pauses, taking his sweet time to kiss you there, slightly nibbling on your skin. you feel yourself flinch and your heart sinks a little, and within seconds, he notices the shift in the atmosphere. your body starts tensing up and you quietly hum in discomfort.

miguel pulls away and looks at you. you look a little flushed, a little scared, even, and he’s no longer driven by love, only worry.

“everything okay?” he asks, a little nervous. he worried that he invaded your comfort zone.

you only felt bad. the last thing you wanted was to offend miguel, but the little voice in your head decided today was the day to let your anxieties take over. miguel’s always so gentle with you and you trust that, but you can’t help but worry a little bit.

miguel is a man of many.. weapons. but even when the suit is off and he’s just himself, there’s one thing that is always there — his fangs.

you’ve seen miguel heated; something many people are afraid of, including you. eyebrows furrowed, muscles tense and his fangs bared. and while he’s rarely ever heated around you, that doesn’t bring you much comfort. the thought that he could fortuitously bite you always lingered in your mind.

“y/n,” he says, interrupting your thoughts, “something wrong?”

you realize that you’d been silent for a minute.

“oh i,” you start, ‘shit. what do i tell him?’

“i’m okay,” you nod. ‘you’re lying to him.’

miguel gives you a look.

the bond you two have built over the years is special. you know he knows that something’s wrong.

“you sure?”

miguel straightens his posture and sits his hands on your hips. the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to even think of lying again. all you can bring yourself to do is lower your gaze to your hands as you fiddle with your ring.

“if something’s bothering you angel, you can tell me.” he says softly, trying his best to make you feel as if you can tell him the truth.

miguel knows his boundaries, so he doesn’t press you just yet. he waits.

“it’s just.. it’s your teeth…” you finally respond, almost whispering. you still can’t look him in the eye, and you’re pretty certain he didn’t understand you, which, you didn’t really want him to. but to your dismay, he heard you loud and clear.

“my teeth..?” he asked, puzzled by your response. he had expected that you didn’t feel like making out at the moment, or even that you had to go to the bathroom, but it was just his teeth. he finds it a little funny, chuckling as he looks at you. you were all tensed up because of his teeth. but he quickly realizes this isn’t as amusing to you as it is to him.

“what about my teeth?” he says with a more serious tone. he wants to take you seriously.

“well.. your fangs.” you mutter, “they.. they’re sharp right?”

‘are you kidding me. of course they’re sharp you idiot.’ you think.

miguel smiles a little. “yeah, pretty sharp.” but his smile quickly fades as he realizes what’s wrong here.

“oh.”

“oh..”

a wave of guilt ran through his body. “was it the biting?” he runs his hand through his hair, feeling a bit self conscious.

you shake your head vigorously, “no, no. i-i’m okay with all that..” you say, “but.. i guess i just got a little.. but i know you wouldn’t, i just..”you struggle to finish your sentences.

“i’d never use them on you, y/n.” he reassures.

“no, i know..” you plea, mustering up the courage to look into his eyes. “i know.”

you immediately regret it. you hate the look on his face. in that moment, all your fears were shut down. all you wanted was to comfort your boyfriend who felt guilty about something he couldn’t even control.

“i don’t mean to scare you.” he says, his eyebrows slightly knitted.

“no, no you don’t. i’m sorry.”

“hey,” he exhales, “don’t be.”

your eyes start to well up with tears and you feel embarrassed. you aren’t exactly sure why you’re sorry, you just feel bad. you know miguel didn’t choose the way his teeth were shaped, and you know he would never even try to hurt you, he’s proven this to you countless times. it was just a quick lapse in judgement.

“can i?” miguel says as he gently grazes your hand, and you nod. he uses your hand to guide you into a hug, keeping his hold around you as light as possible. this only makes you tighten yours.

“i really do trust you.” your voice is shaky, but you mean it. it feels so foreign to you that a mere 5 minutes ago, you were nervous your boyfriend would hurt you. you realize that you know him better.

miguel inhales, his chest rising against yours. “that’s all i want.” he pulls away to look at you, “i only want you to feel safe with me.” he wipes your cheek dry.

“i do,” you repeat. “the safest. i should’ve realized it earlier.”

“come on, no more feeling bad.” he says. “you reacted totally normal, honey. you’re alright. we’re alright.” he comforts you, gently rubbing from nape of your neck to the small of your back.

the two of you stay in a quiet embrace, enjoying the comfortable silence. then, miguel has an idea.

“how about a safety signal?” he asks. you tilt your head.

“a safety signal?” you sniffle. “what do you mean?”

“for whenever you feel uncomfortable. something silent so i know when you need a bit of help, or space, whatever.”

you feel your heart strings tighten — you had no idea miguel had the emotional intelligence for this kind of thing. no offence.

you smile at him. “i really like that,” you say, almost proud of your boyfriend for coming up with such a sweet solution.

he smiles back at you with the most handsome smile.

“you can..” he looks at your hair and brushes it softly.

“can i squeeze your thumb?” you ask, and miguel swears he falls for you all over again. you’re serious about this and he loves it.

“you wanna squeeze my thumb?” he laughs, “sure, baby go for it. anything you like.”

you test it out, giggling as you do, and miguel watches you in adoration. you both settle on the idea, but miguel secretly hopes that one day, a safety signal won’t even be needed.

the rest of the evening goes smoothly. your dinner arrives, meaning you two grown adults share one serving of food, miguel properly gifts you the bouquet he made, and the night ends when he says goodnight with a delicate kiss on the neck.

a/n: MY VERY FIRST REQUEST !!! thank u anon, i tried to keep this as gender neutral and ethnicity neutral (is that a thing too? let’s make that a thing) as possible; pls lmk if there’s any issues ! ♡

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Gentle Grace

Past =-= Next

Author's note: More of Jophiel in Husbandry. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric and Ash'val.

Warnings: None that I can tell. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Summary: As Jophiel recovers from over using his Psykery, but not turning into a Conduit or a Demon, and gets fussed over by his brother-cousins, he gets to make some art while he waits to be let out of the hiding spot.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Artistic talent and the pursuit of more than just warfar was something that their Primarch, Sanguinius, had done with his sons while he was alive, and it's an activity that they continue to do so.

Long into the Indominitus Crusade and those Eras in-between, the act of creation, of art of some kind. To help hone such a skill and to help ones humors become more tempered.

It was something that he'd been taught after he'd been sent to his First Born Brothers in the Blood Angels Chapter. How to create art, of course, all art is individual to the particular Space Marine.

And there are a lot of different ways one could make art, but he'd happened upon the type of art making that had called to him, or at least helped soothe and calm him. A type of meditation that was of deep, calming focus.

That had repetitive movements that had small parts that created a greater whole. His brother-cousins had been able to scrounge up something so that he'd be able to create art, while stuck on bed rest at the protective, scowling gaze of Cedric and Ramiel.

With Claude and Catius guilt tripping him with wide, pleading eyes that tugged at his hearts strings and he'd capitulated with a huff. He did send a message to his Bonded that he was going to be staying with his brother-cousins in the Big City for a few days, possibly a week or two. He'd gotten a cheerful response back, he'd make sure to get them a little gift as an apology for being away from them for so long.

One of his brother-cousins has come back with a colored paper back that crinkles, it's full of the art supplies and he smiles gratefully at Catius, "Thank you for getting the art supplies, I appreciate it."

"You are welcome, Jophi," Catius says as he hands over the bag of art supplies.

Jophiel carefully pulled out the art supplies that had been gathered for him and he prepared to make some art. He was planning on making a gift for his brother-cousins that were staying at this base on a more permanent basis.

While he would come to this base to see them, he'd rather not deal with the potential Drama that was a Cursed One of the Ninth legion being on Ancient Terra.

He's glad that his fellow Primaris Brothers didn't seem to get afflicted with madness at the sight of his wings, but he's heard the stories, heard the histories of entire chapters of the Sons of the Ninth Primarch tearing each other apart over the madness that is the winged Astartes.

Granted, Ancient Terra seems different with how the Warp reacts to things, he'd rather not risk that when the stakes were so much more… difficult to navigate.

Also, being stuck on one planet, and not have any resources to get off of it had his wings itch and his hands twitch in a way that had Ramiel staring eagle-eyed at him for 'self-harm' habit of his.

He hummed one of the Hymns to the God Emperor's Glory as he prepares his cross-stitching surface and makes sure that all of the different kinds of yarn are carefully labeled by color and he tries to figure out what kind of design he wants to go for.

He starts threading the needle with the outline color and starts to stitch the outline of a flower, not one native to this world, and wouldn't be found until the Imperium sends its mighty colonization ships out to seed the habitual stars and planets with humanity.

He finish the outline of that flower and outlines a few more flowers and plants, and leaves. All of these plants are from his nearly perfect memory as he starts to cross stitch the leaves, stems and flower petals in the bright, colorful strands of thread.

He slowly goes over each flower in careful, neat stitching that he's careful to use just enough strength that it's tight, but won't snap the delicate threads. Once he's finished with the flowers and stems, leaves and vines of those plants.

He opens the hoop and shifts the work so that another part of the cloth canvas that is blank is now centered within the hoop as he does more stitching, firs the outline, then the internal components. His brother-cousins come and go to check on him, occasionally sneaking him to a different place, so as to not have him be found by older brother's and cousins of this base.

He's glad that his brother-cousins were able to finds such a large, blank cloth canvas for him to work on. By the time he's finished the whole piece, it's a large, cross-stitched piece that could become attached to a blanket that could easily be sized for an astartes to sleep under.

His brother cousins ooh- and ahh- at the designs. He'd gone for leaves, vines, flowers, and plants, all of them either dramatically beautiful in coloration, or had symbolism and properties that could be used in medicines to help heal those who are sick and injured.

That was not lost on Cedric and Ramiel from the wry smiles they give him. Catius and Claude come by with more art supplies as they help him stuff the supplies that could make cloth and cotton fluff into becoming a blanket.

He carefully stitches the art he's made into the blanket, ensuring that it could be washed and dried with a machine for easy use. He carefully folded up the blanket and used the paper bag to mostly hide the blanket that they'd all seem him back.

As he didn't need much sleep and wasn't supposed to move much, he'd been able to make the blanket within a week of being stuck inside this place.

He'd made several smaller pieces, one for Claude, Catius, and Ramiel as well. The largest piece was going to go to Cedric, to thank him for all the trouble that was patching up his dumb ass and for all of them as a thank you for not turning him in to their First Born Older cousins, and older brothers for some of them.

He is acutely aware of the risks that they are taking, what with hiding and protecting him as they are, and he's impressed by how success they have been with keeping him out of the hands of their older brothers and cousins without them knowing. Or at least, overtly knowing the truth.

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 55

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Don is hard at work just like @garbagemilkshake with this week's chapter art!

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

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

Shout out to @damniteggs for helping me out with technical questions!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

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

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: folds, couple cunts, slit, pussy, cum drinking, and pregnancy mention

“I think it’s an easy comparison to make with what’s happening with the current climate.”

“The sociocultural norms are incomparable.”

“Are they? If we look at-” Several noises came from Donnie’s person to interrupt you.

You blinked wide as he searched around, clearly looking within his glasses. He then shot his gaze across the room toward where his computer had lit up red before he turned a similar shade and stormed over to it.

“What’s… happening…?” You knew he probably needed a moment but the tanking in your stomach offset your rational thought. 

“Some mite is attempting to hack my system.” He seethed in a way that you could hear the grind of his teeth.

“Is that…?”

“Impossible.” In a shift, his screens switched from alerts to data. That not being enough, he raised a hand where several holographic screens also appeared and he began typing out on a semicircle of information. “A paltry attempt, but it has been awhile.” 

You sank into the couch to watch his display. 

Teetering on an edge of fervor, his hands swiped through the air in a contrasting fluid dance to his furious aura and he cracked his neck at the ready. “Let’s decimate this microbe that thinks themselves an encroacher.” 

You gave Donnie a generous 15 minutes to clear that up and got onto your phone to beef up your facts for the discussion that had been left behind. Not really checking the time for your countdown, you instead drifted to fill the space until you got a sense that it had been awhile. Looking up found your partner still going through marshaller motions, but clips of his face said his anger had subsided. Villainous ice now ran through his expression and the work held all his attention. 

Wondering about whoever it was that could eat up Donnie’s time, you gave him space and moved to busy yourself. It was sometime around the two hour mark where you checked in to find him nearly identically placed. With code flying around him as if he were playing multidimensional chess, you had once had plans to go out that evening, but you canceled for his sake.

He continued to toil through dinner where you scrounged up something for both of you. With a bowl for him, you approached slowly and tested his space at a low volume “They still giving you trouble?” 

He flicked you and the bowl quick glances before resuming his work. “Hardly, I kicked them out within the first few minutes.”

You nodded and were left holding not a bag, but a dish.

“You can put that up.” He said simply and with a toss, he pushed all the screens aside and leaned down to peck your cheek. “I’ve uncovered something and I need to focus.”

He stayed just long enough for you to return his gesture. “Eat this at some point.”

Donnie’s silence as he brought his displays back up said there were no promises.

-

In three days time, Donnie had become a fixture. Not moving from his desk unless absolutely necessary, he worked with a level of obsession. It was easy enough to give him space, but you worried about his well-being. Since he wouldn’t step away, you were left to bring him necessities. Starting with drinks, if you left him a glass, he would sip it as it was something he could do without thought. Food, on the other hand, was not something he would divide enough attention for. It meant that after the second day of not eating, you switched to giving him meal replacement shakes to make up for the lost calories.

If he noticed, he said little and only drank down whatever you offered him.

Sleep a bargaining chip you’d had to secede on, you relegated most of your interactions to ones in passing. You could get a quick prick of affection before leaving for work, coming home, and heading to bed. It was the most you could wrangle out of him and that was fine. You wasted little time during these moments for details as to what exactly he was up to were similarly scarce, but he’d been able to pass off minute notes on how he was building a sort of program.

The question of why was still up in the air, but it was in washing dishes on the fourth night that Donnie leaned back. A heavy toss of his body weight in his chair, he rolled a few feet away and folded his arms satisfied behind his head.

You kept your excitement to a minimum even though the smile on his face said there’d been some level of competition.

He allowed one single exhale before his expression fell to an abysmal one.

Your heart sank with suds and you scrubbed a dish to temper yourself.

He allowed his tongue to appear as he exhaled revulsion and then stood. “Disgusting.”

You watched him before a certain smile came to your lips. “You?”

“I detest how these jaunts make me forget basic hygiene.” He waved a hand in parting as he headed towards the bathroom.

You finished up the dishes and were lounging on the couch by the time he returned, showered and pressed. You saw him swim over the back of the sofa like a shark before, with little warning, you were hoisted up and he exchanged his body for yours with you in his lap. He then rooted his warm washed form into yours, drinking in your scent greedily for a single moment before he found the lack of his and began to scrub.

“Ack! Donnie!” You feigned swatting at him when in reality you were taking in those muscles of his with eager squeezes.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke into your throat.

“It’s okay…” You told him truthfully. “I get it. I was only worried about your health.”

He hummed a curious rumble that teetered on a churr. “I do usually come to weaker.”

“I’ve been sneaking you those meal drinks.” You peppered kisses along his masked temple.

His air said he was impressed with the idea, but he buried himself further into you.

“I am pretty curious what happened though…?”

The attentive sounds he was making soured.

“Whenever you’re ready.” You shook your head hopelessly against him.

He relented with a final squeeze before surfacing. “You’re owed that and more.”

You reached up and brushed his cheek slowly.

He lulled, sleep rushing him against your hand.

“Better hurry before you pass out.”

“The hacker wasn’t a single entity.” Donnie explained, fighting his lids. “As soon as I shut down and ousted the one that got through, I found ties to a sort of coalition; some pitiful new group wanting to make a name for themselves.”

“By attacking the best?” You switched your grip so your nails were scratching just under his jaw bone.

“Harder. There…” He hummed dreamily.

You added your other hand to mirror the itch.

He gave a loud euphoric churr that he had to fight to continue speaking. “Not just… me… Doubt they knew… it was me… Were… going down… an account… listing…”

You leaned in to kiss his beak and rouse him to a point.

He chased your lips, but you kept him at bay. 

He made a small noise of irritation before reluctantly pulling your hands from him.

“They were hitting diversified holdings and happened to tap one of my own.” He gave you a gorgeous smile that barely hid malcontent. “How unfortunate for them.”

“Bad luck.” You copied him to an extent.

He was especially pleased and used his weight to tug you down onto the couch with him. “Their program and team were interesting enough. After breaking down their code, I began to investigate if there was more and indeed there was.”

“The coalition you said?” With a wiggle, you were snuggled on top of his pectoral scutes.

“They’re employed.” He rose an interested brow as he finally let his eyes shut. “I thought I might find a familiar player behind it all, but they were smart enough to employ a league of shell corporations.”

 “I’m assuming you found the source by following the money?”

He gave a sleepy smile. “Yes, a newcomer. Made by parent’s money, raised by capitalism, schooled with the best, and interestingly enough, hungry.”

“Hungry?” You tapped his plastron to keep him awake. “I don’t want you sleeping here.”

He groaned first in his throat and then loud out of his mouth. “I care for your needs, but keep interrupting!”

“Sounds like me.” You pushed down on him to get up and he grunted after you.

Not looking back you walked straight over to the bed and readied yourself as he tackled you through the canopy and into the sheets.

Giggling all the way, you fought against him to get him tucked in. “You’re almost there. Go on.”

His eyes rolled under his lids. “Those types of brats typically come out lazy, but this one had plans of grandeur. Ambition.”

“Past tense ‘had’…?”

“He’s still alive.” Donnie quirked a brow.

 “What did you do?”

“True…” He had a comedic sort of guilt to him. “I am getting ahead of myself.”

You bopped his beak.

He nipped lazily at you and cracked an eye. “What I’ve described encapsulated the first evening's research. The rest was used to build a program. Tomorrow I will enact it, ruining the construction of what he hoped to be his empire.”

You stared down at him and felt conflicted by how impressed you were.

“His family. His connections. All destitute. I’m excited to see if that hunger is a real one.”

“You’re making another villain…”

“Why bother being one if you aren’t prepared to lose it all?”

“Donnie…”

“Morality.” He spoke simply. “The worst case scenario is I gain a new foe. I calculated that chance heavily.”

You scooted up to send a frown down at him.

He opened his eyes to accept it and pet your back. “I would never make a move if it could jeopardize you in the slightest. While I may not have attended to you. I thought of you often.”

“How selfless of you.” You retorted dryly.

He was inclined to agree and got up enough to nudge your head. “This event has made me think about my own holdings.”

“Yeah…?” You leaned against him.

He nodded. “Ones… I… I’m not sure I’m ready to discuss.”

“Oh…”

“I need more information. Taking down this entity is part of that.”

“You’re also having fun.”

“I admit it has seemed a nice return.”

You let a bubble of doubt surface.

He’d appeared so comfortable.

Had you been keeping him from doing what he loved?

In closing your eyes, you reassured yourself.

There was more than what was said and you trusted him.

This was also the first time you’d actually seen him in his element.

You excluded turtle interaction as mortal enemies had another place in a villains’ rogue’s gallery and whatever happened with Big Mama had so many layers of polite society slapped on top of it, it hardly seemed a fair judgment of what he was like on his own.

This was Donnie toying with those beneath him and delighting in it.

You leaned your lips against his head. “Be safe.”

“I will. My life is no longer solely my own.” He gave you one last reassuring nudge before falling back into the bed.

“I need you.” You tacked on.

“And I you.” He made sure his eyes were open enough to translate his honesty.

You took it with a hopeless sort of smile. “Alright, that’s enough. You sleep.”

He hummed appreciation and let himself drift off.

-

He slept straight through your evening routine and woke up with you first thing in the morning. A form of making up time, he seemed particularly chipper as he joined you in getting ready for the day. Despite being groggy yourself, you couldn’t help but languish in his full attention. You’d missed this and brought your cuddles all the way to the door where you both gave deep reluctance to part.

“When’s your plan start? Think I’ll see something on the news?” You mumbled into his plastron.

“Evidence.” He scoffed into your hair.

You chuckled and turned up to kiss him.

He returned it with a faint loving churr. “10am our time.”

“Good luck.” You spoke against his lips.

He surfaced a little to look at you with an interested attention.

“What?”

He shook his head and tried to hide into you.

“Donnie…” You wedged your arms between you in an attempt to catch him.

He relented with a pout. “A foreign concept.”

“Someone wishing you luck like this?” You pressed into him.

He nodded a forlorn weight to his eyes.

“It’s… strange.” You offered. “But I support you and if you need to do this then I know it’s important.”

You saw him weigh passing you a certain special phrase before he pocketed it openly to give you another kiss.

“I’m gonna be late…” You murmured against his mouth.

“I haven’t requested you quit in a while…” He ruminated as he extracted himself.

You shouldered your bag. “Probably want to keep it that way considering I don’t do the same…”

He seemed struck by the comparison and gave a single wide-eyed nod.

“See you later.” You sent him a flirty look and slipped out.

You felt him peek his head out to watch you head down the hall before you rounded a corner and lost track of him.

-

You’d opened the door with full confidence upon coming home only to find Donnie a mess.

You’d dropped your things at the door to rush over to him.

An erratic energy coming off of him, he only barked for you to stay back.

You did so with raised palms and took him in. His monitors were highlighted a particularly warm shade of purple and one screen near the center ticked with a large stopwatch. Around where Donnie was spread at the edge of his computer chair, his hands were out in a flurry and his head snapped around with the speed of a small bird.

You had a question on your lips about what was happening, but a small, out of place dialog box appeared to interrupt.

“Ha!” Donnie growled victorious before numbers appeared in it and he slammed its input in and it disappeared.

The timer reset to zero.

Your boyfriend sank back into his seat.

You tested edging closer.

He lolled his head to you. “Apologies. Welcome home.”

You shook your head and gave your chest a single squeeze to translate he’d scared you.

He held out a hand and you came close enough for him to reel you in. “Please speak. I am sorry I yelled.”

“What was that?”

He gave an annoyed snort, but not at you. “I took out the usual safeties, firewalls, and the like, but he had something secretive in place. Something not tied to his usual accounts.”

You stiffened and he squeezed to soothe you.

“That coalition I mentioned.”

You nodded and slung a tentative arm around him.

“They’re putting theirs and all their contacts onto trying to find me.”

You looked down at him and caught how he was avoiding your eye. “Donnie…”

“It’s a game now.” He gestured to the screen with his chin. “This is not proper hacking. The act of which is a boring one of writing code and waiting for it to implement. Not an exact cat and mouse, instead imagine them moving blindly. They are trying to locate any of my many programs or S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. while we move the pieces away from them. The only thing they have in excess is manpower.”

“I’m not sure what you’re saying…?”

“How it should work is you set a program loose and see how it fairs. Success or not, you adjust. With this many people bringing their slew of code, as time goes on-” He finally looked up at you. “-it simply acts as a pitiful attempt to raise their chances that something may reach me. What you saw was one such executed protocol happening to get close.” He threw a thumb at the clock. “With how many of them there are, one has been doing so about every thirty minutes and it takes a… nuanced touch to annihilate them.”

“Meaning your touch and something else…”

“S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. could as well, but he’s currently taxed with surveillance… among other things...” In a swipe, Donnie brought up security feeds of dozens of different people. “This little gambit might set back an entire era of hacking.”

Your partner chuckled and loosened his grip.

“That’s the annihilation. You're not just kicking these people out, you're ruining them like you were trying to ruin that one guy.”

A dart of Donnie’s eye spoke a confirmation.

You looked at the screen and watched someone throw their hands up in rage before they attacked their PC.

You could feel Donnie looking at the same spot. “Data suggests he won’t give up. He’ll go to a net café next.”

“This is…”

“I know.” Donnie turned to you openly and held a strange weight to his gaze. Not quite guilt, but something similar, he didn’t try to argue his case. “Not discussed and you already know too much for culpability’s sake.”

“I don’t care about that!” You wormed your way free.

“I do.”

“Are you going to be okay? This is-!” You scrubbed your face in irritation.

“I’m sorry.”

Your hands dropped. “Are you not okay? Donnie, answer!”

“Not that!” He stood and stepped closer to you. “I’m okay. We’re okay. I meant my apology in regards to this happening. These sort of pitfalls are a commonality to me. When I jumped into this endeavor, it didn’t strike me that it wouldn’t be for you. That it would affect our time. You give me so much leeway that I assumed this fell in line with normal.”  

You stood in his airspace, but refused to touch him. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either.”

“How does this end?” You gestured toward his computer. “How long does this go on?”

“I continue as is, program something more sophisticated between their interruptions which shall taper off as we decimate the leader’s resources.”

“I’m assuming you aren’t saying this [person's name to keep me safe?”

“Yes. He is no one. He is an easy enough search. A billionaire’s son. Public figure if only by his stocks. Best if you can say otherwise.”

“How long?”

“S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.?” Donnie turned and you followed to see a chat bubble appear on the far right monitor.

‘At current rate, four days.’

Donnie returned to you.

“Could be longer?”

“Yes.”

You were slow to blink. “Okay… Okay...” Bringing your hands up and away from the matter you rounded him for the kitchen. “You kill yourself for 4 days and now you’re going to do it again. I’m glad you got to sleep once at least.”

“I…” He was slow to track you. “I’m having difficulty reading the tone.”

You leaned your hands against the sink. “I’m… annoyed. I’m mad that this got out of hand, but I guess I’m glad it wasn’t a non-stop eight day thing. This is new and frustrating and…”

He continued to watch you.

“Since you’re going to do this… Since you have to…” You gestured to the space between you. “Will you eat this time?”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“The meal replacements.” You bargained.

He hesitated for a moment, but relented with a tight nod.

“Sleep?”

“There’s a micronap schedule I’ve long utilized for scenarios such as this.”

“Sounds, not great. If that’s what you were doing before, it didn’t seem to do anything.”

“It’s not ideal, but I need to be alert and on call, so to speak.”

“Okay…” The sound was huffy, but you brought your eyes up to translate that through your reluctance, you’d accepted the current situation.

“May I…?” He checked his computer and you saw, but couldn’t read another pop-up from S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.

“Yeah, sure.” You turned, not really needing anything in this room and tried to prepare yourself for another lonely stint. 

He appeared close, having neglected his own question and hovered. 

You looked him over before showing that in offering your arms out to him in a hug that you were deeply dissatisfied. 

He was quick to fill them, but there was a withdrawn nature to him. 

The hunt was what he preferred to be on. 

“You are more than anything I could have dreamed.” He murmured and inhaled you deeply, as if taking one last shot for the road.

“Don’t butter me up.” You grouched.

“True, but not an incorrect statement. Clarified: I never entertained any sort of personal connection at all.” He removed himself to take you in with a withered edge.

“You are a menace.” You whispered, leaning into him.

“In this sense, I would prefer not to be.” He admitted before kissing you.

You shared one tender one before you felt his body language read that it was time. You released him for a final squeeze and bid farewell to your partner as he turned to his work.

It was easier knowing what you were in for.

For the next few days, you tended to Donnie as one might care for a goldfish. You’d check his tank and clear off his surroundings if he somehow accrued trash. You fed him twice a day as that seemed suitable for his lack of activity and overall he was mostly something you could glance at on occasion if you wanted to space out.

You missed him.

It was infuriating as he was right beside you, but the deficiency of his attention was getting to you by the fourth day. That counted eight total days since he first got the alert and even though you’d gotten a blip of him there in the middle, it still felt like an overall loss. You exercised reason and logic. He wasn’t as consumed as he was the last time. He had moments to speak, but he was still often only partially there. His responses were absent ones and you’d usually have to repeat yourself just to enforce a point.

It wore on him as well, but he had distractions.

It had also been 10 days since you had last been intimate.

Something that in the grand scheme of things was laughable, you couldn’t help the ache between your legs. Having gone from fully satiated to only wanting all too suddenly had left your body confused. A frustrating routine he’d bred into you, it compounded on top of your emotional debt for one that desperately craved affection.

Your closeness went hand and hand with coupling and without him you felt a shard of your usual self.

Still, you tried not to make it a big deal.

Not downplaying it to convince yourself, but instead in an attempt to self-soothe, you did your best to divert attentions. You weren’t so hard up and the supposed window was hopefully closing soon. Taking the knowledge to heart, but at a slight bay just in case things changed, you prepared yourself for a complicated dinner.

Something with many little parts, you had already prepared meat and were currently getting a grill pan up to a searing heat. Cracking the window to release the smoke, you chopped and prepped everything necessary. From creating a quick pickling mixture to blanching some greens, you busied yourself to keep errant thoughts at bay. Around the time you were over a boiling pot of water, you realized it had worked to an extent and faintly ruminated on why you hadn’t thought to cook sooner.

You could already have the luxury of a baked good around if you had a little more forethought.

Distraction its own sort of progress, you took time in plating the many little dishes as you might get them at a restaurant. Not having all the same equipment, it looked more like a minor mish mash, but it got the job done. You then filed for a few trips back and forth to get them set up in the living room and plopped down at the coffee table to eat your decadent spread in front of the TV.

“Takeout?” Donnie wondered absently.

He’d sometimes ask questions out of the blue. It was almost as if he’d catch bubbles of thoughts outside the norm and they’d force their way through him. This one had you chuckling. “You didn’t smell all that cooking?”

He didn’t respond and you turned to find him actively writing out several things at once.

In those moments, he also rarely cared for an answer. 

Giving a resigned sigh, you returned to your meal and ate aplenty.

Nearly bursting, you lounged for a long while before you were forced to put everything up.

You now had a few days of leftovers depending on when Donnie returned and you wondered by some Tupperware if you should ask him how that deadline was going. His fingers were flying at a particularly busied speed so you decided to let him be in favor of cleaning up. Avoiding still warm burners, you got everything back to a baseline before tackling a mountain of dishes which was reconstructed into a drying pyramid.

You’d rounded on a journey back to the couch when he stopped and gave a tired chuff.

You slowed and watched him.

He blinked a weight against his skull and turned to you with an affectionate smile.

Bypassing it to quell unnecessary excitement, you checked his monitors to see the timer had been recently renewed.

“A short break.” He spoke softly and with a heavy exhaustion.

“How are those micro naps?” You fussed and meant to approach him, but he got himself up first.

He approached you with loose limbs and draped himself over you with too much weight. “Ache.”

“Your body?” You did your best to hold his wobbly form up.

He nodded all around you.

“Why don’t…?” You checked the screen and then urged him toward the bedroom. “You lay down for a bit and I’ll watch your computer? I can’t respond, but I can wake you up the second something pops up.”

He grew rigid enough to think it over.

“I haven’t seen you lay down once…”

He wilted with a little more weight causing your knees to buckle.

“Don!”

With an awkward hoist, he freed himself and stumbled right towards the bedroom. “25 minutes!”

“I’m waiting for the pop-up!” You scolded and he fell straight into bed.

He also presumably went right to sleep because he didn’t move even though his legs were hanging off at an odd angle.

You watched his form with a warmth you soon realized was the one he’d pressed you with.

Shivering away from a flush of moaning images, you plopped down into his chair only to be assaulted by the heat there. One baked in from where he was sitting, it brought color to your face as your brain unhelpfully connected the dots between his slit pressed hot to these cushions you were now perched on. Stomping out horny fires in your mind, you watched data continue to write itself along with all sorts of data on the screens. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. bid you a quick hello and you responded quietly in kind only for him to not give much of a response himself.

They were both so busy.

Scooting forward, closer to the monitors brought up a scent that for a moment you couldn’t place. One that coaxed your nostrils, it was in a dreary lull that you realized it was Donnie’s natural musk. Something enhanced by days of not washing, it permeated the space and again your mind threw a tantrum regarding your neglected sex life.

Infinitely frustrated with yourself, you righted in an attempt to run from the scent and roughly scrubbed your cheeks to regroup. Perspective said how ridiculous it was to be turned on by a fading scent alone and sense told you that you needed to finally give in and masturbate. A bitter part of you complained about only wanting to get off with the best while some argumentative voice told you to get off your high horse.

Voices drowned you until a screen popped up. “Donnie!”

He shot upward with a speed that caused the canopy to billow. “Up! I’m up!”

“There’s an alert.” You got up from the chair just as he reached you.

“Understood. Thank you.” With only a glance, it was filled and closed out. “That… helped… I do appreciate it.” He passed you a quick glance that also held a pang of dismissal.

You gave a faint nod and rolled his chair up where his body was still stiff. 

“I’ll stretch after two or three more cycles. I’m close to completing my code.”

“Sure.” You pecked his head just as he brought his fingers up to work.

If only he’d use those damn digits to finish something else too.

Turning with a flood of humiliation, you played it off and all but threw yourself into the couch.

This was coming to an obvious head.

You’d be forced to act soon and though grumpy thoughts wanted better, you knew your hand would get the job done. Still holding out as long as you could, you turned something onto the TV and tried not to think about how just the small kiss was stirring you. Since redirecting your thoughts had worked as only a temporary balm, you tried to skirt the subject in hopes that indulging it a little would help take the edge off. No where near imagining any scenarios, you instead plotted the logistics of getting yourself off.

It made the most sense to do in the bathroom.

It’s not like you thought you weren’t allowed to masturbate, but you didn’t want to make it obvious. Your intention was far from teasing your mate in his current state. This wasn’t about taunting him, you were just taking care of something he couldn’t. There was also the fact that, if he knew, Donnie would definitely try to help. He was steadfast in your pleasure and it wasn’t hard to imagine him jeopardizing his mission if you truly asked. Not wanting that or to tax the already similarly swamped S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. a quick shower was in order.

If only it wasn’t so cumbersome. It felt taboo to get wet and dry off without washing. Even though you weren’t dirty, you didn’t want to soil a towel and figured you’d have to get a minor lather going. That meant you’d have to get farther under the spray and you didn’t want to chance getting your clean hair wet. A rolling cause and effect, you would need to do something with your locks to keep them from getting hit with an errant spray. It all felt like a tax to pay for making yourself cum even if the pros outweighed the cons.

An annoying plan in place, you felt sort of settled and tuned back into the TV only to find a PG-13 sex scene unfolding.

Hitting the off button on the remote before your brain caught up to what you were doing, you flung the clicker back to the couch and went for your phone. Looking to microdose serotonin, you headed for social media in hopes that it would keep you level. What you found was your feed collectively screaming about something objectively horny and no matter what platform you switched to there was something similar.

That was fine.

There was a name for that.

Recency bias or something. 

It was an illusion.

You were thinking about sex so you saw sex.

You just needed to unplug.

Going through your apps, you found you hadn’t cleaned out junk files in a while. There were always screenshots to clear out and stupid memes you’d downloaded for one off jokes. With Mikey a constant source of the latter, you found some solace in deleting extra images. Skipping past ones you might keep, you found a few you wanted to throw into a folder. Opening up a transfer, you mistakenly tapped the edge of your camera gallery and cursed softly as the files went to the wrong place. Going to correct that brought you to your recent photos where you slowed at a sea of green.

Not forgetting, but taking your time gathering up those misplaced pictures, you perused photos of your boyfriend. This was proof of never having a candid photo of him. You scrolled through image after image of you trying to sneak him into shots only to have him dully staring at the lens in each one. It was a fun game and made for many memories. It conjured a conflicted feeling in your chest knowing that this him was so near, but somewhere distant. You glanced up over your device to find said partner silently toiling away.

Your finger kept moving.

Returning your gaze to your phone in what was a form of melancholy comfort, you stared down at a picture of Donnie between your legs.

Instantly clamping yours shut, you’d forgotten all about this image.

From a few weeks ago, he’d just finished eating you out and he’d risen up, closing your knees together as a perch for his chin to ask you a question about something you’d been talking about before getting down to business.

He’d been so casual about the whole thing and wearing a self-satisfied smile stemming from the two orgasms he’d just given you that you begged him to hold that pose so you could immortalize it.

He’d relented with a sigh and you got an image of him looking relatively near his authentic self.

You couldn’t help, but notice now the way his face glistened with you.

Closing your eyes and fisting your phone, you needed to move up your time table. Coincidence or not, you needed to clear your mind. Rubbing your thighs together to smother the burn there, you meant to get up and head to the soak when your phone rang. Juggling the device as that so rarely happened, you saw it was one of your college friends and answered.

“Y/N! Wassup!!!” He called with an ancient lingo.

Telling him not much because in reality that was the truth, you had a quick conversation with him about how he’d be in town next week. Having not seen him much since he moved a few states over, you made plans to hang out the following weekend. Always in a rush, but with seemingly all the time in the world, he pelted you with a few more questions before he had to go. Bidding him farewell, but not for long, you hung up and stared down your phone screen where that damn image of Donnie appeared again, waiting.

Stupid turtle.

Stupid hot turtle you always wanted to bone.

Stupid.

Closing your phone, you sat listlessly for a moment until you stood.

It couldn’t wait.

You weren’t particularly ready to shower, you technically still had things to do, but this had rapidly turned into a very dumb problem.

“Gonna see Zach next Saturday for lunch.” You relayed your new calendar addition as you rounded the couch.

“Mhm, have fun. Tell me when you get back.” Donnie shifted his head to look at another screen.

You slowed to look back at him openly.

Donnie hadn’t heard the phone call.

Or rather, he hadn’t registered the contents.

With his hearing, there was no way he couldn’t have known what was said and yet he’d just responded like you were leaving now. 

It was similar to how he should have known that you cooked dinner.

Dropping from curiosity, it made a sort of sense.

He was obviously distracted. He’d lost several days of actual sleep. He was operating on the bare minimum when it came to maintaining his body. He was also engaging with something that demanded all his focus. Of course he’d tuned out superfluous data. He was firing on all cylinders to complete a specific task.

Maybe you didn’t need to shower.

Maybe you could get away with a quick jaunt in bed.

Rub one out under the sheets and then clean up like nothing ever happened.

In that way it would be over and done with as fast as your fingers would carry you.

You certainly had the imagery in mind getting you most of the way there.

One last test.

You only needed to confirm one more time.

It was the rule of threes.

“Actually, I’m feeling kinda tired. I’m gonna nap.”

“Text me if you run long.” Donnie mumbled out a reply.

Your lids lowered as you watched his form with some amusement.

Sure, you would totally text him if you overslept.

Mentally thanking him for making your life easier, you ignored that he was also the source of your irritation and sauntered over to the bed. You tucked into your side and got settled under a sheet before you looked up at the canopy and squirmed lightly at the thought.

You were going to masturbate with your partner sitting in the other room.

He would be none the wiser.

A little titillated on the fact, you shimmied down and peeled your legs apart. Condensation built up through unwarranted will alone, you slid down through your pants and underwear to make work even quicker. Pushing deniability aside, you coasted over your slit and felt the percolation. Something still trapped between lips, a dotting part to your apex revealed the bounty.

Letting your eyes fall shut as you excavated with probing digits, you focused on the singular touch and minimizing any other. This was meant to be a quick chase of pleasure and as such you weren’t about to become some writhing mess. It brought back imagery of being a teen and stealing away for something fast that your hormones demanded in a life with little privacy. Far removed from a knock or even someone haphazardly throwing a door open without knowing better, now was more that this was something to get out of the way.

You still needed material.

Starting where you left off, the Donnie with his head perched on your legs appeared. The reel ran backwards. Him parting you and dropping back where he belonged and you rolled onto your hand where you were still being coy. Digit breeching that first ring of flesh, your lips parted and you blew out a cooling air. Already calming from the heated mania that had taken hold of your mind, your other hand joined your first.

Avoiding your clit as you needed a bit more sop for expansive territory, you instead went to toy with the bundle of nerves above it. Stretchier skin and not as keenly sensitive, it further worked you up to add another finger. The Donnie between your legs was doing his job, but you were skirting toward deeper penetration when you switched him up.

The next came a painting Adonis above you. Chiseled and gorgeous in soft afternoon glow, he rolled with beads of perspiration from a time when you both desperately wanted to prolong the moment. If only to have the connection a second longer, it skirted edging territory to instead go torturously slow. Its own taxing dance, the wind up was an exhaustive one that had enhanced the event on multiple levels.

You had shed tears when cumming then, but it wasn’t because of release.

It was the only frustrating part of his anatomy. You’d long grown addicted to his spread and, in a way, you were always accustomed to his length, but it was the way he retreated into his slit that your resented. Moving onto a third digit and finger fucking yourself with a metered vigor, you longed for him to go soft in you. He could in a way; the spread was loosen and revert, the knot would deflate from where it acted as a bouncer, and the stiffness that reached your recesses would shrink away from its job of reaching your womb, but it would always leave.

With only those few signs and if Donnie wasn’t aroused enough to attempt a second round, the retreat would occur. Something relatively quick, but not painful, it was a slink back into its cavern and you were left empty and wanting. You longed to keep him there. To spend a night, as impossible as it was, with him inside so you could wake and still feel connected.

As if to offset a dip in your attention, your next mental image came as a fully clothed Donnie where he’d turned to smile at you while you were picking something up at a bodega the day the dry spell started.

You vaguely recalled it’d been a quick trip for batteries after the ones in the remote had died.

It had been especially endearing to tease your partner as to why that electronic in particular hadn’t had the genius’ touch.

He vowed to make something unholy in retribution and his description of a remote that could find itself had brought laughter to you.

When you’d come down you glimpsed him as honeyed sweetness right there in public behind a confusing mixture of motor oil and cereal.

Heart buoyed, a legion of Donnie’s appeared in your mind.

All delightful moments, you saw a seemingly never ending reel of the man you loved. He shifted shape, in clothes and out. Amidst passion or sleep, but steadfast he’d be there, ready to take your hand whenever you wanted. He smiled, he fumed, and at least a thousand of him rolled their eyes, but he stayed by your side. He chose you again and again, in every way, and with all his forms, you were the one he wanted after the lifetime he’d endured so far.

You were close.

A youthful euphoria came with a certain level of embarrassment that you were about to cum at the mere thought of your partner wanting to be with you.

On another plane, you embraced it.

How lucky were you to count yourself this attracted to someone?

There was something to be said about warping the norms for a reciprocated crush. 

Wanting to giggle and chomping down on your lip to keep the overflowing happiness inside, you teetered on at the top.

Seemingly one flick away from touching stars, you finally switched to your forgotten clit and, in the first touch, you thought you’d cum.

Nothing happened.

Maddeningly on the edge, you sped up to a chase a feeling that appeared to be a flattening curve.

From a mountain top to a rapidly eroding valley, a tinny sound came from you as your face scrunched in desperation.

Why?

It was all in place.

It made no sense.

He’d done something to you.

Changed you.

The images warped.

You saw the wicked him that poured through the cracks. A thick and viscous creature made for oozing where he pleased. It was the barely restrained version of him that existed just below. Not hidden necessarily, but waiting, it was always biding its time. It was his fall back in case of emergencies or his crutch were he so inclined to let the beast out for its daily walk.

Was he keeping him or were you?

The thought made both your hands go slack and your body screeched in denied agony.

Cracking an eye, leaky from force, you saw a shadow at the edge of the bed.

Already high on adrenaline, your symbolic flight switched to a literal one and you seized up at the specter. Trying to blink it away at first, you watched it amble like a blow up punching bag. The base steady and the top a teeter, the figure almost fell over before it overcorrected and took several silent steps to a corner.

“D-Donnie…?”

It stopped and returned to its original spot where it tore open the curtains to reveal who you’d spoken into existence.

Your boyfriend stood in a hunch. Stupor coating him, his arm hung threatening and his head dipped below the waning bulb of his shoulder. Looking at you through tipped down features, it manifested a wretched glare on his worn out body. Bordering on feral, a breath forced its way past his lips and he dropped his gaze to track you from your covered legs back to your face.

Snaking your hands out of your pants, you attempted to hide them as you rolled the blanket back enough to sit up. “Don…?”

He let the curtain go and trailed around the outside of the canopy to your side.

You watched him openly.

Not using the same force, this time he carefully peeled back the curtain beside you and slotted himself between panels to give you another once over. Now closer, he looked more possessed than mad. His eyes were darkened both with heavy bags and what looked to be delirium. In a slow inching where a flick of his pupils said he was surprised to see his hand raising up, he used excessive care to coax the closer of your arms to him.

You tried not to wince with guilt as you unearthed the appendage.

There was nothing to feel bad about.

You were allowed to masturbate.

You were sure of that.

You were also perplexed by the way your mate held your forearm.

An underhanded hold as if testing its density, he let your wrist limp and simply stared down at it.

“Earth to Don?”

Slowly blinking and only showing signs of life by breathing, he had to bring in his other hand to take up the first’s task. Trading your arm between holds, it freed up his left appendage where he took up your fingers. Holding them with so much delicacy that his own digits gave a nervous wobble, he brought your hand up to his beak.

You felt especially culpable. 

He breathed you in lightly.

Rapidly shifting from feeling bad to only feeling confused, you watched his features smooth out.

“Better…?” You asked softly.

“No.” Came a gentle response which breathed warmth onto your fingertips.

“No?”

“I’ve been subjected to great torment.” Opening his eyes found them a tired sort of glazed and he adjusted his hold so your fingers were up and on prominent display.

At a sedate pace, he then put them in his mouth and ran his tongue over them.

Coiling up from your belly, all muscles tensed as if to force his touch through your being to where you needed it most.

“Y-you-” You didn’t even care if you stuttered. “-I thought you hadn’t noticed...”

With a sharp suck, he extracted your fingers with a needy pop. “Not notice? Not notice my mate writhing? Not notice how wave after wave of arousal was coming off of you? Not notice those little breathy gasps as you tried to bring yourself to climax without me?”

In his hold, your damp fingers curled hungry.

“The quieter you tried to be the more deafening you were.”

“Then why…?”

He was slow.

He was painfully methodical.

He inched himself down as if on a precarious crane and folded your arm back into your person. He then used his freed up limbs to steady himself and leaned a lowered version of himself into your vision.

“You called to me.”

“I…” He was so sure it made you second guess yourself for a moment. “No… I didn’t… At least, I don’t think I did…”

“You did.” You’d been captured by his gaze and hadn’t noticed his hand ghosting over the blanket. He caught the hem and pulled it back slowly to unfurl you. He paused there, drinking in the scent. “The past few days…”

“N-now wait!” You sat a little straighter which caused him to duck out of your way and you caught his hand on the blanket. “You didn’t notice me cooking for over an hour and you didn’t hear anything from my phone call, but now you’re telling me you noticed the flickers of horny!?”

“Static.” He didn’t pull free and continued to watch you.

“Static?”

“Background. White noise. Tuned out. Unnecessary.” He leaned in close and you thought you might need to hold him up, but he only barely leaned his head to yours in order to place his lips at your ear. “Not you. Your dial is turned up. My first and utmost priority.”

“One of those was me…” You protested, hand loosening unconsciously.

“The details of which weren’t.”

“What are you talking about?” You tried to turn, but only bumped him. “They’re my plans to go out.”

He huffed irritation and retreated enough to view you. “I don’t have the time to explain my procedure in regards to you. You called, I came. Let me take care of you.”

You held out for a moment before softening. “You have a procedure for me…?”

That earned you a smile. “Yes. A detailed and lengthy one that constantly evolves so I can be the partner you deserve.”

“Nerd…” You choked on affection.

He hummed agreement and tugged lightly at the blanket where his hand was still under yours. “May I?”

“Your work…” You lifted your appendage anyway.

He nuzzled into the side of your head. “A required pause.”

“You don’t even pause for slee-!!” Your pitch soared to a shattering point as soon as he got his hand into your pants.

“That’s it… I love when you cry out for me.”

In a tangled shove, he got his much larger hand situated against your mons where his long fingers curled into your heat.

His arm was in an awkward bend, but he didn’t seem to care and tutted lightly “You were stopped short… How agonizing…”

You seemed to only breathe in time with him tracing your slit. “No teasing… Please!”

“I’m not.” He pressed a comforting weight against your head.

“Need you.”

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Switching to a single digit he held it just above your apex.

“Busy…” You rolled up with your hips, but his hand moved in time.

“Never too busy for you.”

“Donnie!”

“Were you…?”

You caught hold of his top and yanked him to your eye level. “Thinking of you? Yes! Fuck! I always think about you. Your stupid cock. Your infuriating smile! You! Now, please!!”

The most awake yet, he stood in a form of shock and his gaze fell surprised down your body where he pushed a finger straight into you.

You outright cried at the sensation and he supported your back to pull out and push back in.

No deft digits.

No accuracy.

No right spots.

Your soak meant he slid in easily even if your body hadn’t quite adjusted to his current shape.

Still, you came.

Right then and hard enough that you latched onto his arm as you folded forward onto the pressure.

You could feel your mate’s body raise interest around you.

Delirious, flittering thoughts wondered how you’d stayed on the edge all that time.

Stupid body.

Always waiting for him.

That was going to be a huge problem if it wasn’t psychosomatic.

Coming down came with outright waves of relief. You rose against the slack and held a dopey smile for your partner. Leaning into his arm and cuddling up to him with stupefied jitters, you pecked the underside of his chin. “Thank you.”

“Less than 15 seconds.”

“Sounds right.”

“Unfair.”

“I don’t know… Looking pretty good from here.”

He grunted irritation and bumped you off his plastron.

Grumbling yourself at having to sit up of your own violation, you turned to him. “What?”

“I barely had a hand and now my data is an outlier!”

“Data…”

“Yes!”

You looked down where his hand was still crammed into your pants. “Sex calculation.”

“Ineloquent, but yes!”

“You pull out.” You touched his arm.

You could hear him grit his teeth and his finger pressed deeper into your still sensitive core.

You gave a breathy mewl. “Don-!”

He quirked his digit.

“Stop!” You glared at him. “You have work and you did what I ‘asked’ already!” 

He openly grouched.

“I worked myself up! It should only count if it’s you, start to finish.”

“You said it was me!” 

You blinked at him exactly once. 

That was what you said. 

It also was a fact. 

It might have been due to your recent release, but you felt your anger evaporate.

Left with only affection, you traced his arm up and took his tightly wound chin. “I’m sorry.”

From around irritation he surfaced with some resentment. “I don’t require an apology.”

“I know. You’re tired, stressed.”

“I’m busy.”

“You did good. You can go back.” With a few more strokes his jaw unwound.

“I could give you another…” He pursed his lip like a child being denied a second cookie.

You moved to kiss both his cheeks, one after the other. “I see. Data is probably part of it, but you’re more upset because you wanted it to last longer.”

He gave a curt nod.

“You miss me too?” 

His lids raised a little at your addition to the equation. “Of course.” 

“You’ll have me when you’re done.”

With a forced exhale, his lids closed. “I suppose.”

“Isn’t today the day?” You leaned back to give him room and he extracted his hand from your crotch.

“Yes, we have four holdouts. All other resources depleted. What’s left are doing it for sheer spite.”

“You’ll get them.”

“Assuredly.” Donnie straightened and sucked his moist finger with the casual nature as if it were a lollipop. “Hopefully this evening while you are still awake.”

“Wake me if not.”

“No.” He turned and the canopy trailed behind him.

“Hey!” You called after, but he didn’t stop his trek.

Getting up and shuddering as the slick soaked your underwear, you clambered after him.

“Why not?!”

“You have work in the morning.” Donnie sat down with the poise of a pianist.

“So? We’ve done it the night before a bunch of times.”

“Ten days.” He readied himself and his semi-circle of monitors appeared.

You slowed and ignored the disgusting squelch between your legs.

It seemed so obvious.

Of course, he’d be just as aware of the time without.

He’d probably felt the same ache in the small moments when his mind wasn’t occupied.

Still it felt nice to hear, out loud, that he thought the same. 

You closed in, forgetting your discomfort.

He tucked his head away from you, but you caught the faintest glint of a wicked smile. “Quite a time to make up for.”

“Marathon…” You whispered, wanting to manifest.

He didn’t look, but you felt the confirmation radiate from him while he made some notes.

Chewing on your lip at the thought, you moved close just in time to watch one of the pop-ups appear.

He eradicated it without deviating from what he was already working on.

“These last few are that weak, huh?”

“That one came at…” Donnie flicked his eyes to the timer which had reset. Clicking over in time with his eyes, it presented a different number before it continued to count. “87 minutes.”

He seemed more awake and you inched closer.

“You dismissed me.”

“I did.”

“And yet…?” He finally turned to give you a faint once over and give attention to how you’d followed him.

“I’m fine.”

He arched a brow that had a dual meaning between second guessing you and also urging you to reveal the truth.

“I am.” You huffed a smile. “Really. I appreciate it.”

“Loitering?” He disliked his guess, but offered it anyway.

“I’d like to return the favor.”

He straightened the slightest amount. “Y/N, I’m still working.”

“Mhm…” You came in close waiting for him to stop you.

When he didn’t, you took it as a sort of cue and traced a finger along the arm of his chair.

He watched the digit with a certain withheld gaze.

“As paltry as the interlopers are, I am more interested in finishing my new algorithm. I am close and would appreciate to test it on these peons who have worked so hard to earn their spots as guinea pigs” He only had the energy for half his usual hostility.

“Work on it then.” You slowed your finger just before it grazed his skin and then bent at the waist to place yourself at his tympanum. “Haven’t you thought about taking me while you work?”

“I have.” He returned a modicum of your heat as a form of dismissal. “So quickly you forget what I’d considered an unforgettable call.”

“Matsushita and the wife who made pottery?” You asked with poisonous innocence.

His gaze narrowed in the corner of your eye.

“Exactly.” You tilted your head to nudge him. “A phone call is one thing. It’s boring; people multitask. Plus, cockwarming? It’s sweet, gentle. The thrill of getting caught here is pretty different, but…” You removed yourself to openly inspect his desk. “Looks like there’s enough space.”

He psychically moved a digital window before kicking off so his chair rolled him to face you.

Taking that as an invitation and not giving him the time to change his mind, you ducked under his desk. Spinning right around, you then caught the wheels of his chair and pulled him back into place. Seeing his arms minutely flail from the sudden jerk, you sat on your haunches and stared down his crotch. “Wow…”

You felt him give a little noise which you likened to embarrassment as you sank greedy hands into his calves. They tensed under you where they were already stiff from sitting too long. Working into them, you leaned heavily into his inner thigh and simply drank in the closeness. It allowed your partner some space to adjust to the position above and you eventually felt him fall into a working rhythm.

His lower legs feeling looser, you took his thighs one at a time in a two-handed effort to get any sort of grip on the wall of muscle. Donnie puffed with slight amusement at your struggle and you resisted digging your nails in for some retribution. Instead you massaged diligently, loosening him up until he grew a sort of lax puddle below the waist where he sat with otherwise perfect posture.

Wanting to ruin that, you returned to the apex of his sweats where his split position to accommodate you pulled the fabric taunt. It bounced under a quick testing and said it was several inches away from his skin and you stewed trying to figure out the best way to work them off of him.

“Need a hand already?”

You glared into the wood separating you both. “Hardly.”

He made an amused noise and you turned interest into a glower. Though darker under the desk, it wasn’t like you couldn’t see. You didn’t need to probe the fabric to know these sweats were on the older side and worn in spite of obvious care. Running a finger down the center seam, you saw a gallery in your mind of the many items he’d torn off of you and suddenly cared little for how much he liked this particular pair of pants.

Holding with a pinch of one hand, you dug a nail into the seam with the other until you could just wedge your finger in. You then rose up, bonking your head under the table which caused Donnie to chuckle at your failure. Now cemented where you were already sure, you yanked hard and fast to tear the crotch of his sweats open.

“Y/N!” He attempted to roll back in a fit of anger, but your solid grip meant he only caused the hole to widen several more inches. “Do you realize how hard it is to find clothes that both fit and suit my textural preference?!”

“Tell that to the entire wardrobe of mine that you’ve shredded…” You glowered up at him from your cavern.

“You do not have near the same restrictions!”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not annoying!” You fisted one of his pant legs and tugged him back into place.

Now grouching a dark cloud over you, it meant he would be harder to soothe, but you took that loss in stride. Your goal as of it yet hadn’t been arousal despite your insinuation. You’d dropped under here as a way to pay him back in every sense of the phrase. Satisfied, you continued to tear the fabric until you had a sizable hole all while resting your head against his thigh.

Getting him to a version of chaps, you reached in and traced a heavy hand over the soft skin of his pelvis. Instead of tensing, he gave a hitched sigh, obviously still upset with the state of his bottoms. Leaning in to kiss a bit of his exposed thigh, you nuzzled there not for apology, but instead hoping he’d accept that what was done was done. You knew he’d do so fighting every inch of the way, so you continued to ply his legs with little pecks and nosings until he relented.

It took several long minutes, but you never tired of the way his skin felt under your lips. A delicious drag, you kissed inward as he offered the smallest unwinding. You granted him more of you in the process, pressing several fingers into the plush skin around his slit. It caused him to adjust where, in a little flick of his hips, his tail appeared and you eased it forward until he could comfortably sit back on his shell. It presented more of him to you and you spread thankful kisses over all, but his heat.

Similar to how you’d been, you saw a faint shine of what was mostly hidden. Spreading your digits out in a sideways V around his slit, you pushed to open him further and saw the collected slick that had been trapped there. His scent hitting your salivary glands, you turned your head to meld your mouth to him and felt him tense up around you.

Holding your tongue a settled weight just at his entrance, you massaged into his inner thighs right at the sensitive joint to ease him down. A squirming in his chair meant the wheels rocked him and he planted his feet as a means to steady. It came with a slight rock onto your chin, where he took a sharp inhale and cleared his throat.

“W-withhold or-?”

You peeled away where his slick tried to hold onto you in strings. “Don’t you dare hold anything back.”

You heard only a satisfied exhale before his cock rushed your face.

Switching gears, you palmed his member to your cheek and nuzzled into his very essence.

“I missed you…” You told his cock and kissed it lovingly.

Above you there was a thump and you only smiled as you dragged your lips down his shaft. Resisting the urge to tongue him, you drank him in first. Getting high off the contact you eventually settled onto your knees for what you considered a long haul. Staring down his glans, you allowed yourself one last heart-eyed look over him before you kissed his tip.

Taking his head into your mouth, you quickly swirled and he held back an obvious buck by inching his hips in as close as he could. It meant his chair came until his plastron met the desk and you were caged between marble gams. Swirling your saliva to drink it down beside his member, he twitched at the sensation which you used as a guise to suck him.

He swallowed an obvious grunt and you felt him adjust his posture.

Imagining there must be another of those pop-ups, you took as much of him down your throat as you could at an achingly slow pace. A growly sort of churr shook on the way down to your mouth that you soaked up before you hit your limit and made a similarly slow trek out. Relishing the stretch of your jaw and wane of your lips the whole way, you came off him with a slick pop and took a moment to enjoy where you were.

You made it just long enough that when you caught him with a tight grip around his middle that he yelped. Following it right up with moving to suck the very life out of him through the straw of his cock, you saw a flash of his thumbs as he caught the table. It was in that moment that you decided that this was the time: you were going to swallow his load no matter what.

Even though you enjoyed it, sucking him off had been a few and far between activity. Despite both of you liking it, other positions were clearly preferred and the mess of him in your face was always way worse than the one down below. From the time his hose had mistakenly sent a spurt flying across the room to when he’d sprayed up your nose, his orgasm had, as of yet, not been something tamable when it came to oral.

Channeling the force of your thrusts down your back to save your neck, you caught hold of his chair arms like handles to fuck him fully with your face. It lifted you off your knees where your ass bobbed from force. Pushing through until the creak of your jaw began to protest, you eased off to partially fist him while focusing on his glans. It parted your attention enough that you could feel your own leak string, a sticky mess where it was trapped.

You checked to see his feet were still planted only to find his toes twitch and lift rhythmically as you stroked him. It sent you to smatter a new set of kisses along his length. He released another breathy stutter that was again cleared by his throat and, with him stable, you left your pumping to one hand and shoved the other down your pants for the second time tonight.

Immediately finding your slick where force had smeared it around, you cringed, but tried to keep it off the lips around him. You licked long along every bump and curve of his length to take the time to test your own folds. Usually ones abused and aching to reach this state, they were instead pumped full of useless blood and heat with little recourse. The threat of another bout of restrained arousal had you shoving a finger in yourself in hopes to offset another deprivation.

Only you toyed with that definition.

In this case depravity, the thought sunk in on how you were getting off by getting your partner off. Something that was meant to be just for him that you were now coveting, it increased your finger count while you rolled your tongue around his expanding glans. The ultimate sign of how far along he was, this was yet another hurdle in taking him to full completion with your mouth.

Calm was the name of the game and you had to relax so his spread could fill you without choking. It was flexible, you reminded yourself, and not something trying to cut off your air way. It couldn’t constrict your throat and you were safe in taking him. Lulled on that and a tizzy buzz from fingering yourself, you switched to shorter strokes to control exactly where he would spread to his fullest.

That being somewhere around the middle of your mouth for the barest level of comfort, he was rapidly expanding to fill the space. You curled your tongue back within a lap to keep it from getting stuck and in doing so you tasted the first salty sour of pre cum coaxed out of him. Sign after sign you were on the right track, it meant you were getting close to the point where you really needed both hands to siphon him. Making the faintest noise of protest as you uncurled your fingers to remove them from your sopping cunt, you readied yourself for a new angle where you palmed him with sticky digits.

Donnie was nowhere near cognizant enough to tell you touched yourself.

You weren’t even sure he was getting work done by the way you heard him routinely claw at his desk. It was like winning multiple awards and each was a new honor came for fucking out a creature that should by no means be susceptible to your inferior human form. It flooded you with pride among other things as salvia leaked from crevices and down your chin. Bumps of his glans scoured your gum line and a tight seal was nearly formed. You moved to fully jacking him off with your hands as you could no longer move your head. Your tongue swirled and flicked the best it could against what was now a fleshy wall shoving your jaw to its widest.

“Y-Y/N!”

You took that as his second to last signal and the ‘O’ of your hands pumped down to his knot where the last would come. It was there you pistoned up and down with pulsing squeezes all to coax him to his highest peak. He stuttered a quake and something beeped for his attention and you felt his frame shift as he tried to dismiss whatever it was. A fixture on his cock, he picked you up and tossed you with his movements which translated to a pulse of your nether muscles at how you were being used.

One day you would tell him to get creative with the arms that came out of his battle shell.

Unlike the stationary B.E.D.F.A.S.T., they were the perfect set of extra hands on the go, but that was all relegated to final thoughts as you felt his knot inflate. The time was upon you and you would have exhaled if you could. Instead you breathed a steady in and out in preparation and fell into the angle you prepared. One that pulled downward on his cock, it made him the pump and you the pail in which you were going to drain him. Not letting up speed, you only adjusted pressure and moved for a final rotation of your tongue before tucking it flat to make way.

He came with a chirp and a hissing breath while you squeezed your eyes for the onslaught. The first wave came with piping heat and you reminded yourself on a soft mantra to ‘let it flow.’ Fringe taste buds complained of the flavor and the spray shot discordant pumps of his seed down your throat. Loosening the chute as a means for it to slide down without encumbrance, the temperature of it activated some basal gag reflex and you could only squeeze your eyes further shut with tears in an attempt to suppress it.

Let it flow.

Let it flow.

There was too much.

The tears streaked down your cheeks and you held onto his knot for dear life as he continued to pump load after load of his spunk into you. You wanted to gasp, but that was wholly impossible and your breathing tried to pick up against where you were holding it. It was with bitter focus that you staved off anxiety and had to remind yourself of perspective. While it seemed endless and timeless, he never actually came for minutes. The process would be quick, your senses were overwhelmed, and you could take it.

The thought of where you usually did caused you to prematurely swallow and the minor bob of your body trying to finally give into a heave was one you had to uselessly spasm around.

It was truly due to his modern marvel of birth control that you weren’t pregnant.

You’d already taken the blood test and confirmed otherwise.

There was a new worry there, but the ache it gave your chest was one you quickly deferred as his glans loosened.

Waiting down a few last spurts, you swallowed deeply and inhaled greedily on the oxygen you were deprived. It came with a sort of settling as he shrank enough for you to disengage and openly pant from your empty mouth. Still feeling the lingering heat like a hot beverage running the line down your sternum to sit heavy on your stomach, his cock softened out of your space and you slumped hard against his thigh.

Within a time space that felt like both hours and seconds, his knot slipped free from your grasp and you let your fingers loosen from their claw-like shape to flat palm stickiness against his pelvis. Head down in case those heated stomach contents decided at the last second that they wanted to upturn, you stared down a space between his chair’s legs and felt his shaking post-orgasm digits brush yours.

He tapped something out.

Still unsure of your stomach, you staved off a laugh for a light breath and returned the opposite call by signaling an ‘S.O.S.’

It spread his fingers out over yours in a comforting stroke and you could just about hear the loving churr rolling off of him.

Good.

You faintly rubbed your cheek against his leg.

He felt good.

The churn subsided and with it you did too.

You felt triumph.

You felt invincible.

You felt exhausted.

In reality having done very little, it didn’t seem earned, but your partner tapped you again and this time wasn’t in Morse code.

You hummed interest and tried to look up at him, but remembered he was pressed all the way to the desk meaning neither of you could see each other.

“I’m okay.” You said genially and moved to sit upright so he could roll back.

He did so at the first sign of your stability and tipped his head cutely to the side to glimpse you. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Your voice overflowed and you wanted to reach for him.

Reading your mind, he did and, in a sensitive bend that caused him to wince slightly, he got ahold of you. Grabbing for his shoulders, he hoisted you into his lap and you were soon cradled. Wiggling on top of one of his thighs and minding his crotch, you wormed your way up enough that you could comfortably tuck your nose under his chin. Churrs rolled off of him and his seat moved just enough to put him back into place. His hands moved for work and you imagined both of you were wondering why you hadn’t thought to snuggle like this beforehand. It was all too easy to fit together and your lids drooped.

You might have committed to sleep had you not tried to tuck your legs up under you.

The moment you folded, you were giving a soaked reminder of the breached dam that had been flooding for far too long. It was now on the forefront of uncomfortable thought and the quietest whine escaped you as your body tried to unconsciously lift away from your plastered underwear. 

“Darling…?” His voice came with gentle concern.

Right.

You were on top of him.

“It’s just… reactions…” You settled and tried to hide away from yourself into him.

He coasted over your body with light interest at the source until he pieced it together. “Ah.”

“I’ll get up eventually.”

“Do you… need me?”

You knew that hesitation.

You had already eaten up so much of his time.

It was a case and point as something vied for his attention and he had to momentarily divert course to handle it.

From the bed to what he’d surely fumbled while you sucked him off, you imagined his timetable had now shifted to the early hours of the morning. As he said he wouldn’t wake you, but you’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t dreaming of the relief of finally being stuffed with his cock in the hole that’d been begging for it this whole time.

It was a logistical nightmare.

You’d done the whole cockwarming song and dance more than once to know for a fact that when folded in a chair, you simply didn’t have the strength alone to fuck him. That meant the distracting duty would fall on him which was the only thing you were trying to avoid. The sheer size of him along with his tailor made desk meant you couldn’t manage some modified wheelbarrow even if you thought your arms could support you long enough. Anything where you hung off the front would be interrupted by unrelenting wood and a position that placed you on top of it meant you’d surely ruin his work surface as you had in the past.

You needed something new.

You needed to get creative.

You wanted to lie down.

Slumping against your mate, you almost wished you could go similarly limp like a sock to just hang off of him.

It was very much a wish for a second pair of hands.

You blinked with a sort of attention.

Turning to look past your partner, he still waited with his question, but you slid a hand up from his shoulder and onto his carapace. You felt the stiffness there of his battle shell and smiled to yourself which you quickly turned on him.

“Can I borrow this?”

He puckered a tiny frown at having been ignored.

“Yes and no.” You answered and stared your truth in his eyes.

His further narrowed.

You imagined this is what he always felt like having to explain himself in more detail when he wanted to keep amorous information scant. “I don’t want your hand. You're too busy for your mouth, but I have a very wild idea that I physically can’t do without your tech.”

He took in the information while giving a routine flick of his gaze to his computer.

“It’ll be all me.” You put a reassured hand to his plastron. “Well, all, but one part…”

“Improbable.”

“Let me… paint you a picture.” You adjusted in his lap to give yourself some space. “You’re standing, you’re working, and all you have to do is absentmindedly rock your body into a cock sleeve made just for you.”

You watched his pupils shift and expand with intrigue.

“Let me try?” You pecked his cheek. “Worst that happens is my idea doesn’t work and I do a somersault.”

“What position will you be in?” He tilted his head and studied you.

“A fun one.” You grinned in return. “A wise man once told me something about how cute it was to guess.”

He eased up on his suspicions and you gave him what you meant to be an innocent kiss for it. Leaning into it and betraying how much he wanted to stay in contact, he eventually huffed and manipulated his screens more. “I’ll need to stand?”

“Yup!”

He scooted the chair back and you were careful in hopping off. Your legs were a bit worn from stressors, but otherwise fine so you turned to find him rolling his chair out of the way. He then returned to you and reached backwards up under his top where he came away with a plate of metal that formed his battle shell.

“Is over or under better?” You twisted to highlight that you were talking about your shirt.

He looked at you in a judgmental way.

“Ah, ‘depends on the position?’” You snickered and caught your hem. “Under then.”

He watched with appreciation as you took your shirt off and then coaxed you to turn. “I have something I’ve been testing.”

With your back to him, you looked over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” He stepped looking over his screens one last time before doing a light jog into the other room. He quickly returned with a square box that looked like it might hold a necklace. Placing himself right where he had been, he tapped your head to look away from him and you waited until you felt something slip around the shell of each of your ears.

“Headphones?”

“Brain-machine interface.” Donnie chuckled. “Your chance at voice-free tech integration.”

“I don’t have to speak?” You tried to turn, but he caught your shoulder.

“No, but it will require the full focus of your intention. Simply put, your body moves because your brain sends signals. This will pick up these signals, but there is a learning curve. Instead of executing the commands, you have to send the signals alone. Mine is a neural implant and far more refined, but this should give you approximate aid in this… endeavor.”

“Tell me how you really feel.” You teased as he held up the warm metal between your shoulder blades.

You quieted as the tech grew in a gentle crawl over your skin. Goosebumps cropping up as they usually did when he touched you, you had to check to see his arms were staunchly by his sides. It reminded you of a sensation from long ago.

“Do… you remember when we first met the other turtles?”

“I’d prefer ‘ambushed.’”

Sliding down the curve of your spine, a supportive belt slipped around your waist and you chose to ignore him since it all felt like a caress. “When you put your battle shell on me then.”

“Yes.” You saw his head clip in your periphery as he checked how secure you were.

“How do I explain? When you put it on me it felt one way, but when it moved it felt another. Then there was the night that you came back from the hidden city. The way the arms moved then were different than when Mikey was trying to catch me.”

He slowed and very carefully touched your ear pieces.

A rich hum came from it saying it was active.

“That… might be the difference between my control and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s.” His voice had a distant quality. 

“This one feels like you. It’s intimate…”

“It is me.” He slid down to your shoulder and pointed to your waist. “It is also now both of us. Focus on adjusting the thickness here.”

It took a long moment to clear other thoughts, but the band soon reconfigured into a thinner one. “Woah…”

“Very good.” He kissed the side of your head. “Any specific mechanics you desire? I imagine this is for stability.”

“Guessing.” You minded him and stood at the ready.

He took you in with a certain level of desire that he tried to reign in.

“Can I make some of those mech arms?”

He quirked out of his leer with interest. “How many?”

“Two?”

“That’s complex… You’re moving two entities on top of the shell itself…” Donnie thought it over. “I would need your gauntlet. I’ve been meaning to take it back for a while now. It’s exceedingly outdated.”

In an unconscious cross, you pulled the item close to your chest and covered it with your other hand.

Donnie gave a flat stare. “Do you still have information to hide?”

“No…” You pursed your lip. “I just… A long time ago Shelly told me not to.”

“Because I was more judgmental.”

“You’re still judgmental.” You smiled. 

“But less paranoid, controlling, ill at ease… I could continue?” He leveled with you.

You relaxed at that. “True.”

“It would only be to update and upgrade. I’ll let the information file into my system and give my word that I won’t look it over.”

“Now?”

He shook his head. “A whole process, but with practice you will be able to more easily exercise additional appendages. For now, that will have to fall on me.”

You frowned.

“I know…” He took your hand in a suave maneuver and pecked your knuckles. “In time, dearest, but rest assured, they are an afterthought to me. Unconscious to a point.”

You’d seen that. “Okay…”

“Position me and yourself as you see fit.

You bobbed at attention and squared your jaw. “Okay, please don’t laugh.”

“I’ll work.” He offered and passed an eager glance at his screens.

“Good.” You took his waist and, in a little shuffle, got him about where you wanted which was just about a foot shy of his desk.  

He adjusted his monitors for standing and looked to be doing some catch up.

Feeling safely left to your own devices, you examined the space. Donnie’s desk reached just above his knees and you lowered yourself to the ground. You’d only had to duck a little to easily fit under the space and then thought hard before sitting. There you stretched lightly, attempting to touch your toes and generally rolling your back to see how flexible the battle shell was. It moved in time and never pinched, which made you wonder if it was him or you.

Unable to decide, you focused on what you needed to do which started with some shoulder support. Thinking probably too hard on the topic, the battle shell lurched in a stunted way that you imagined must be your control. It crawled up, forming shoulder pads of sorts and you shimmied to see how they felt. Comfortable in spite of being metal, you settled into the set before hopping up enough to crouch. It was in that way that you got your bottoms off and felt a strange nude hunter in a prowl position.

Staving off lethality, you did a quick check of the floor before metering how you laid down. Trying your best to keep your slick from making a wet spot, you squirmed until your feet touched the wall underneath Donnie’s desk. It placed your head somewhere around his feet and you watched him give you a confused glimpse which he quickly tried to hide away.

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?” He turned his head to work on a different screen.

Rolling your eyes amused, you breathed in deep in a centering way. A pose you knew wasn’t for beginners, you had confidence with your bracing aid and laid your arms out at your sides with your palms flat to the floor. Exerting a pressure there, you exhaled before bringing your hips up and attempting to keep your feet together. With the desk in the way, you ended up having to bend your knees as you continued to lift and soon hooked your toes on the edge of the desk for a momentary breather.

You were immediately regretting the bulky shoulder supports and screamed in your mind to change them. Without shape they loosened in a confused way, but with each loud signal of discomfort, they tried over and over to manifest something suited for your needs. You knew, in a fringe sort of way, that if you thought more distinctly the process would go smoother, but you didn’t know what sort of shape would work. It eventually ended with something flattening out against the floor and coming around to brace your neck in a molded arch shape. With your knees floating above, you were an odd sort of comfortable still gripping the desk the best you could with your feet.

“Gonna need those arms in a second.”

From below him, you watched obvious hesitation pass over his face.

“I think the most embarrassing part is over. You can look.”

His gaze immediately went to you with a sense of relief before his brain kicked in to register how you were set. In a flick of his pupil, he gave an interested hum.

“Gonna do a plow position.”

“The one our yoga instructor specifically said not to do?”

“Yeah...?”

“Not like that.”

“Huh?” Before you could do anything more, the shoulder brace you had worked so hard on remade itself from the ground up. Into something new and infinitely more comfortable than anything you imagined, you sent a begrudging frown up at him.

“I will not have you injure yourself.” With a quick check that he had time, he knelt down and stroked your closest leg in a comforting way. “The arms will lift you?”

“I don’t have the strength to hold myself up.”

He nodded. “I believe I’ve placed the position.”

“I’ll let you have that.” You were thankful for what he’d done for your upper back.

“May I say what it reminds me of?”

“The position?”

“You’ll be between me and the desk, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s the goal.”

“Glory hole.” 

Your cunt twitched to the open air.

He had to drop to a knee to kiss your hip, but he got his peck and then straightened back up to work.

Giddy that he approved and understood your intention so easily, you were about to move before you realized he’d forgotten something. “Arms, Don!”

“I’m well aware.”

“Then…?”

He said nothing and was quick to scroll through something.

You sat watching him for a second before you sighed and returned to your task. He was clearly ready for you no matter how he acted. You felt his touch through the battle shell as he eased your back with a gentle pressure. A guiding hand, it helped hold you as you kicked off his desk and threw your legs up high like a gymnast on a bar. Your hips began to bend and the battle shell changed to support your body’s inverted gravity. With your spine rapidly becoming perpendicular with the floor, your rushed your head in their descent. 

Before they hit the ground, you were hoisted up and heard the soft padding of metal as arms formed out from your back. Feeling a little like a crab in your odd position, you watched Donnie step away to make room and you slotted in where he once was. In a hiking climb, your body lifted along with the arms that you saw coil out and around the legs of the desk for a solid hold. For a moment your lower back brushed the table before the battle shell grew over that point and seemed to lock in around the wood. It left you hanging upside-down, head cradled against the floor, folded in half at the hips, legs on either side of your head, and your dripping sex on prominent display for your partner.

Set between one of Donnie’s feet and his prosthetic, you trailed up him and tried not to snort as you got a new angle on his shredded sweats. A tease was on your lips about their usefulness but his cock falling heavily above you took your breath away. 

A single drip of his arousal strung down his throbbing length and dripped right onto your cheek.

Love flooded your gaze as his hand appeared around his length to hold himself steady. He took a wide stance with you between his legs and the cowboy imagery multiplied as he saddled up. With a single readying swipe, he left the tip of his member against your entrance and let go to see if the angle was right. With a faint bob and his erection keeping him perfectly aligned, he opted for a hands-free entrance.

It only took an inching forward thrust and you accepted him instantly through the many layers of desire. Not just today, but from the last week, you felt your long baked ache eviscerated with each inch of him. The fold meant you could see exactly how he entered you and you felt a sort of awe at how easily you stretched to accommodate him. He moved with care that you soon realized stemmed from the one flaw of this position. While you were a hole right in front of him, your actual anatomy curved downward which tugged his cock along with it. It meant his glans pressed hard against your septum. A feeling that in any world without Donnie you imagined you would never feel, you wondered how the sensation felt for him.

Not finding your answer as you could see little more than him fucking you, your searched to find his tail at attention. Another thing you had yet to see, there was an anticipatory wave of the thin green flag. It led you further into where thick walls of muscles made up his inner thighs. You clenched in awe of his anatomy and it caused a sensitive twitch from where your cunt had an awkward hold on his cock.  

You dropped as if on a rollercoaster. 

Squeaking in fear, the mechanical arms whirled around you. A flurry of sound, you were walked into a lower position so your entrance was an eager door below him. Something that worked for his anatomy since his member emerged from a similar place between his legs, it also meant he could plunge straight down in the angle that worked for your body. It melded your pelvises and he only had to do a minor squat to enter with the battle shell adjusting your height. 

With the first testing thrust, your pleasure tripled.

Whining, you were mesmerized to see the drag of your sex refusing to let him go. Your sensitive innards chased him with a cling in contrast to how they stretched and it sent pulses straight to your brain where you saw every vein of him disappear into you. Imagining this was what he always saw, a bumper crop of envy appeared only to be washed away by the tendrils of combined slick rapidly rushing down your mons. It fell in needy strings that dripped onto your face and you could only mewl desire as he squared his hips.

Riding you much like a saddle with a jaunty bounce, it was an easy show of his leg strength as he picked up the pace. It sounded an echoing squelch from the cavern beneath his desk and in a rocking clip you watched him move a monitor around. Knowing he was working all while felt like a sultry undermining of your person and your clenched down on the length your body was made for.

You were only a hole for him to spill into and this position marked one where you were quite literally the cum dump. It furthered your excitement and the battle shell held you steady where you tried to meet his strides. Either for control or the safety of your weight teetering on your spine, you weren’t sure, but Donnie overrode any commands, not that you could form enough coherent thought to execute them. Crying as more of you both splattered your face, you lapped at the juices and cried out in inexact need.

It earned you a heavier press where your bones screamed back in a move they weren’t made for and it was yet another enhancement. A little pain as the salt to the sweet, you imagined that this was meant to be a perfect moment. One that had a building tension, all roads led to you being fucked by Donnie and those were trips you’d take every single day.

Delirious and drunk off all your senses encapsulated by sex, you felt a wind that already sucked at him greedily to keep him in place. Your desperation channeled to your very core and you watched as Donnie must have felt it too because his arms flailed to grip the desk. He held it to pull himself out and you watched your puffy soaked sex claw against the drag before he released in a literal sense to plunge into you.

He gave up thrusting there and then, letting you squeeze the life out of him and his body shook. Too fucked out to make sense of his actions and wishing your arms weren’t under you only so you could stimulate yourself further, you watched spasms coax him deeper where he forced in his growing knot. Mouth opening, but drool pooling in the back of your throat, you got to see the exact moment his bulb expanded to lock you in.

You came without pretense, fighting for your life against your eyes rolling back so you could see the jerk of his first spurt. He came straight down into the awaiting shoot of your body where you were only ever born to receive him. You meant to relay this as the great moment it was, but the only sound you made was a lip smacking sigh that spoke of the satisfaction that was usually quenched after a long thirst.

Donnie’s hand slammed against something and he hunched forward with a feral noise before he shoved himself as hard as he could against you.

He was already cumming, but you felt him crush some very deep part of you and the feeling whited out your vision.

You slacked, your portion manipulating the battle shell going offline.

Limbs jellied, he poured his contents out until there was nothing left and held even longer until he was just starting to retreat.

He pulled out with a sudden rapidity where you got a front row seat to the show of his softening cock flopping upon exit and the waterfall of his cum rushing a confused overflow. Dumbfounded as it dripped, clingy, to your body, it ran over your stomach, filed through folds and creases, and eventually found your face where you giggled happily as you were showered.

Your pelvis eventually left your vision and Donnie appeared beside you with gentle touches in an attempt to ground you back to this reality. Very much wanting to join him though space held its own warm welcome, he seemed to phase in and out until a heated wet rag pressed your cheek. The first real sensation in what felt like hours, you made an overtaxed noise at the sensation. What initially felt like a scrub warped into what was actually a care laden brush and you realized he was wiping you off. 

“… Love you…!” You got out deliriously through loose lips.

He didn’t stop his affectionate brushing and only focused on cleaning you up with a small punctuated, “You.”

“So much…!” You cooed with a bob of your head and vaguely understood it was free and you were lying down somewhere.

In a lean, he appeared as puckered lips which he used to plant a kiss to your forehead. “My glory.”

“Glory…!” You hummed back and snuggled against the air. “Did you win?”

“I did. It was quite the grand finale. I finished my algorithm just as you came.”

“You killed them!”

“I ruined them.” He corrected you with a wet bop to your nose.

You wiggled underneath him. “Owe me a marathon!”

“I don’t believe you’ll make it past the starting line.” He must have finished because you were being scooped up into his arms.

You hung the useless bride. “Just start without me. Fuck me sleeping. It’s hot!”

His drifting smile said he agreed and you were laid out into a plush wonderland.

“Oh…” You openly moaned and squirmed in the delightfully soft sheets.

“Clean enough. Feel free to slumber and we’ll cash in the marathon later, no matter how tempting your offer.”

“Glad you made it… Missed you…” You felt a dreary dark coming for you.

It might have been exhaustion, but you were sure you saw open guilt pass his features as he looked away. “I as well.”

“You’re…” Will was rapidly leaving you. “… back… right…?”

He turned a condemned sort of smile to you. “Yes. As of right now. I’m here.” It seemed an odd specification and there was a haunting quality to his face that you carried along with you as you drifted off.

NEXT

I made it to February 2nd, but I think my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 are in groundhog day editing my works!

[ottosbigtop]

What would your top 5 game recommendations be?

oh man I don’t know if I have 5, I really don’t play a lot of games but lemme see if I can scrounge up a list <:]

I will always and forever recommend Outer Wilds to anyone who asks. If you’ve ever been recommended it before you know that it’s a game everyone says you can really only play once and it’s entirely true. It’s a game about exploring space while being trapped in a timeloop, and it’s just. Any sort of blockades within the gameplay are entirely based on the information you find out for yourself, there’s no leveling up or item collecting you need to think about, just explore the world and follow the threads of the story of a long-dead race of aliens that once existed in your solar system. The game just has so much emotion to it. Despite having none to be found, it’s so human in a way that makes my heart ache. Play it with as little spoilers as possible and then yell about it to everyone who asks.

Psychonauts 2. Platformer. Ranking this above psychonauts 1 purely because on top of all the things the first game has to offer, Psychonauts 2 has all of that and is also just good to play. The psychonauts games revolve around the levels being depictions of people’s mental worlds, and in Psychonauts 2 you go into the minds of characters mainly to follow and discover the story of the psychic 6- the group of psychics that founded the Psychonauts, the psychic super-agent type organization helping track down and deal with psychic threats. it’s just kind of got everything. The style is unconventional and fun and so shapely and asymmetrical, the voice acting and soundtrack and gameplay are all at peak fucking performance, and the art direction of this game is so good. I think it goes without saying that I’m just a very big fan of this game.

Psychonauts. Platformer. Suffers from the jank of being a video game from 2005. The controls aren’t anything you can’t get used to, but the gameplay has really never added to the experience of the story, unfortunately. Just something you have to learn to work with. However, managing to work through that gives you just a really fucking good story. The comedy of psychonauts is really good throughout both games, but Psychonauts 1 is clearly much lower stakes and has more of a dark humor to it, while still being surprisingly optimistic and nice to the characters whose brains you explore. The shapes in the first game are exceedingly more weird than the second, which is really fun. If you don’t mind some janky controls, I’d recommend playing it before the second :) But as someone who played the second one before the first, going back and playing the first afterwards is still really fun!!

Detective Grimoire - Tangle Tower. Point and click mystery game! Absolutely phenomenal art and atmosphere, I cannot overstate how much the character sprite animations absolutely fascinate me. It’s a game I appreciate for the story over the gameplay, the puzzles aren’t really that difficult, and it’s really easy to sort of brute-force your way through matching evidence to characters, but it’s still real interesting to see the story unfold and piece it together yourself! Also- incredible voice acting. The characters are wonderful but the voice acting sells every single one of them.

Bugsnax - adventure game. Honestly this game is just so fuckin silly dude. Such a good time. It’s a game about being a dude stranded on an island full of weird muppet creatures and snacks that are bugs! The creature designs are so cute and silly and it’s just a really heartfelt game too. Very character centric story, but on top of that the gameplay is just real nice. Get creative with collecting weird little beasts!

[artoriarts]

Ok I don’t want to go make art and I don’t want to go find something good to scrounge up and post so I will instead spout assorted madcom headcanons. these are far from the last you will see from me.

- sanmos 4 lyfe (big sloppy heart emoji) they are both like playfully flirty in diff ways with other people but also so so monogamous at the same time they love eachother sooo much have the healthiest relationship known to man. ignore all the killings.

- 2bhank with the same energy as medic tf2 x heavy tf2. but like also 2b is catboy herder for hank. he holds the laser pointer in the relationship. hank isn’t like full creature I’m still the kind of girlie to place him solidly as kind of the stoic and dysfunctional sociopath but he’s got some of those beasty tendencies in him. the two have such strong attachment to each other but they both have such difficulty expressing it. hank doesn’t know how human well and 2b simply isn’t a soft person even when he wants to be. but they work with what they have. deimos and sanford are so invested in their relationship they chitchat about it constantly. in the most supportive way they want it to go well they just talk about the two being cute and try to help when they hit rocky points. the power couple is so stable they can take on other couple’s drama.

- I don’t know what the ship name is for tricky and hank but there’s like a tiny bit of that too. tricky is hank’s crazy ex but they were never in an actual relationship clown has just been desperate for the dick day one and has not let up for a single second. especially after the halo fiasco literally everyone hates them but they stay silly

- whitehank exists because of something along the lines of hank’s genome getting copied to aahw database when he went in the magnifier and using that agency got the bright idea that if they can’t beat hank. they can make their own. I don’t know actually how she should fit into everything but I like the idea it feels appropriately silly for madcom. the only thing I’m really decided on is that she eventually switches sides and 2b, carrying the entire trans community of nevada on his old man spine, hooks her up on titty skittles and him and hank informally adopt her because cold sad clone babygirl needs parents. she’s like all of hank’s feral swagger if you made it sopping wet and also like garage band punk. I can’t decide if she’s musclegirl as I’ve drawn her before or make her skinny legend I need to lock down the vibes. One important design thing that i know is coming however is that since she’s a copy of mag hank specifically, while hank gets demagnified in my little post canon design shit, she does not, so she is de facto tallest out of the. what do you even call the gang. just the gang? agency for hank wimbleton? the motley crew. the dnd party. nevada’s most wanted. that one actually works we’ll go with that

- funny thing I’ve considered for sheriff is that after whatever happens in project nexus dude just. pisses off somewhere. half hooks up with jeb to make a neutral party for people who just want to fuckin live. while jeb’s on the offensive side of that trying to actively stop the madness sherrif is the defensive side just making settlements for normal people to live they lives. something along those lines. it’s quaint. him and whitehank get together maybe. little guy woos the giant cryptid lady with his southern charm.

- the auditor is workplace sexual harassment personified. simultaneously in the fanfic suave way and the restraining order kind. they talk like stephan weyte. they think they’re soo cool and when someone doesn’t think they are when they want them to they run away and cry.

- I wish I could come up with something for jeb to like round out the primary cast but like honestly he’s the one I spin around in my head the least. I like his motive of make shit normal but maybe he’s just like too clear cut. he’s already got a full character there’s nothing for me to add.

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[then-ponder]

Bean and nothingness

I watched Patricia Taxxon's video on Bean and nothingness. I haven't played the game, but now it's on my list. I would have Clicked off earlier, but I accidentally skipped to phase 2.5 in an attempt to avoid solutions - there is nothing more annoying than a spoiled solution set on your first go. But there I found myself encapsulated by my own pursuit of study: Math. It was here that I pushed forward because well, no one talks about this subject and its worth hearing people out even if they need to hand you a solution set.

Both of these videos Patricia Taxxon's and a prerequisite video by Owen Maitzen serve as an introduction to the world of math in videogames. Not the math used to make the videogames. Not the animation math or the math that gives physics. Not even math that gives you those god tier minecraft graphics. They detail the math that describes the games themselves.

Owen's Work does a bulk of the mathematical heavy lifting. It's the fundamental building block that Taxxon Needed to start this essay because - An assuming that Taxxon doesn't have a math background - the hidden piece for so many students is that math is "useful" Because we made it to be, but this isn't math's nature.

It's here where Taxxon really come into its own because she is able to see through the numbers and actually describe what about beans and nothingness was inspired by the act of mathematics-ing. At 28:30 In Its video, Taxxon talks about how she solved a specific puzzle by building up familiarity with small pieces enough to build a solution to that problem while also going back to see if that solution was unique[that there is one and only one solution] and then find the others. So much of the video talks about the structure of mathematics. Its components, and how and why mathematicians do what they do. it [both the video and Taxxon] loves math and even without numbers it[both the video and Taxxon] knows math. I really can't express how much I love this video or how much I adore Taxxon for seeing all of this and putting it all into words.

One of the things about being a mathematician is that people inevitably ask you why are you doing this. Why Is there a difference between an answer and a solution. Why do you have to generalize everything. Why does it matter that the question isn't defined for numbers greater than two? And mathematicians are pretty grizzled from the fact that they have had hundreds of years to come up with a good answer to the question "why be a mathematician?' and we still come up with nothing, because people respond to "I want to study math because I love math" with comments about usefulness and money and capitalism and all sorts of things. Patricia Taxxon was right about academia and thus math a form of art, but I think we can expand that a bit. Math is an act of creation and discovery. That is the fun part. Sometimes you play with other people's constraints and sometimes you play with your own and when you get stuck you work through it. It ties into A mathematics lament by Paul Lockhart. math gets really weird when you go off of the beaten trail. Not all arithmetic has to work like it does. Some arithmetic can be non-commutative[ab does not equal ba]. Arithmetic has other properties that we can take for granted. so much of what we perceive as math, is the math we have taken for granted or allowed ourselves to think of as the total math and not a subset.

What makes Patricia Taxxon's video Imporant is the fact that she is so kind and cheerful about it all. This is a new discovery. It loves the math and wants you to join in that participation as well. Taxxon has a glee about this that I don't think I could muster even though we both share a love of math. I don't think I want to talk about "what is math?" anymore with younger college students because what every expression of love for math I can scrounge up will ultimately come with harsh, reductive tones even when I truly love the subject I talk about. and its important that people see this and talk about it.

If you want to start learning math I recommend the Book of Proofs by Richard Hammock. Trust me its a book that only requires arithmetic to get started. there is algebra, but early on it's skippable. youll find a copy of the pdf free on his website and at low cost through normal sources.

Just remember to skip chapter 3 on your first go around (or don't) and then possably the chapter covering calculus proofs.

[blackjackkent]

Glad I took a final look around, bc there's a whole chest of letters (loabeled "Chest of Grateful Words") and some Baldur's Mouth Gazettes pinned up on a board.

Various fun newspaper headlines first:

"Fresh Stock: An Interview with the New Master of Ramazith's Tower"

"Thorm's Army Dispersed from Baldurian Borders"

"Report: Stone Lord Killed by Beloved Ranger"

"Harpers Out of Hiding: Secretive Sect Step Forward to Aid City"

"Almond Cakes of Avernus: Elturian Refugees - and Owners of City's Newest Cafe - Share Their Recipe"

"Site of Foundry Blast Still Sectioned Off, Says Fist"

"New Waveservant at Umberlee's Temple: No Leads on Desecration"

"Ravengard Returned to Full Strength"

"Gondians Disband: 'Gond's Time Has Come and Gone'" (A/N: Bongle will be pleased. 🙄)

"Duke Stelmane's Murderer Still at Large"

"Planar Pains: City Caught in Center of Githyanki War?"

"Volothamp Geddarm's Guide to Baldur's Gate: Bard Seeks Contributors to Newest Edition"

"Last Holdout Cultists Cleared from Temple of Bhaal"

"Iron Throne Wreckage Continues to Block Shipping Lanes, Complain Merchants"

"Settles Bound for Lands Upriver Amid Claims Curse is Lifted"

"Business Boom - Take Your Troubles to the House of Grief"

"Witnesses Encounter Vampire Spawn - And Live to Tell the Tale"

"Six Months Since the Assassination of Archduke Gortash"

"Small Sun: Tour New District Built by Elturian Refugees"

"New Bardic School, Tiefling Founder, Secures Upper City Funding" (A/N: AHHHHH Go Alfira Go! :D )

"Jannath House to Host Evening of Art and Culture, Celebrating Salvation of City"

"Monument Planned for Heroes of the High Hall"

I love all of this. :D

Also a quick side note because I need to shout out my favorite bit of the ambient dialogue in the camp - everyone has been making random comments the whole night, but every once in a while, Shadowheart comments: "Withers has a keen eye for a nice vintage. Why were we scrounging in barrels and crates for supplies when he could source these? Gods, I remember one evening we had to eat fourteen apples, some fish heads, and a stale loaf of bread just to get by."

lolololol <3

On to the letters!

"Official Guild Letter":

Aw. :)

----

Wehhhhhhh. <3 I'm glad we got you free of the curse, Art. Poor guy.

-----

Hector still hates you, Valeria, and this isn't helping.

-----

Atta boy, Mr. Duke.

-----

I'm assuming Beard Man is Elminster. :D Excellent. I think Hector probably has Gale keep an ear to the ground on how she's doing; the whole group felt very protective of Arabella.

-----

Oh, shut up.

-----

[incredibly loud squinting from Hector] You are so FUCKING creepy, ma'am. And if you come anywhere near Astarion again, by the way, Hector will kill you (if Astarion doesn't do so first).

-----

Aw. I'm glad they were able to find some kind of stability, even though there was no real good outcome to that situation. :(

-----

Florriiiiiiiiiiick. <3 She's so cool. I wanna be Florrick when I grow up.

-----

This is kind of sweet actually. Growth for everyone.

-----

EEEEEEEE :D I love this so much. She deserved such a good ending and she got it. (Though people KEEP putting Hector's names on things; I think he's giving up on fighting against notoriety. XD )

-----

HI DAMMON! Hector definitely makes sure Karlach sends him a super nice letter bringing him up to date. He's a saint in their eyes, made it possible for them to be together at all.

-----

Hee. Elminster turned out to be interestingly nuanced in terms of Gale's storyline; he didn't really seem to approve of how Mystra was treating Gale, but also wanted to toe the party line of the goddess of magic. Hector's a smidge skeptical of him as a result. But good to hear he and Gale are still on good terms.

-----

<3 If Nocture eventually decides to leave the Sharrans, and Shadowheart goes to help her, Hector would absolutely be there to help as well.

-----

Eyyyy, Voss. I love this because he greets Hector with the title "She'lak", which means 'benevolent burden' (a term for a do-gooder hero), which I already headcanoned was what Lae'zel calls Hector. So she's got Voss doing it too, which absolutely makes Hector smile.

-----

Aw. Hope seems to be doing okay. <3 As okay as she can be under the circumstances at least.

@writer86 pointed out to me that the House of Hope would make perfect sense as a regular headquarters for Hector and Karlach and Wyll; I think they probably go there pretty regularly for time to rest and recuperate.

-----

Aw, Mayrina gets a happy ending! This is great! She didn't end up naming her son after Hector after all though lol. Which he's fine with tbh.

-----

Oh no. XD

-----

I love the implication that Nine-Fingers might have just randomly showed up too and been the only non-companion here besides Tara. XD That line about getting Jaheira to sing intrigues me. Fodder for a one-shot perhaps...

-----

Zevlor is such a great character, man. I think this is a good end for him, and hopefully he finds peace and happiness in it somehow, in the end.

-----

Awwwwwww. Atta boy Geraldus!

It's incredibly unclear to me how easily Hector and co. can or cannot get out of the Hells. But if he has the freedom to do so, he would absolutely be there. (Though honestly, lbr. It should be Jaheira.)

[snapjock]

$1-$50 Adopts/Art/Writing/ETC for Hurricane Relief, accepting tips & support

Hi there! Me and my family were affected by the hurricane and we need money for food & necessities, so I offered to sell some of my absolute favorite characters that are in the Edith Project to scrounge up funds for us! Please note that these are designs I am very invested in, attached to & put all my love into making so this is a good faith effort to help my family and I won't tolerate scammers, ghosters or other character flipping accounts to harass me or my people over prices.

(Icarus Ibsen Washington, my hurricane boy. He's gotten me through this whole situation to be honest!

The available adopts are listed here, I will move them into sales folders & appropriately list them for sale when I have time to sit down and get to work on it. Currently they are ALL strictly priced between $1 and $50, depending on quality, amount of art & how much I put into them. If you want to offer, comment below with the form I've made. Don't lowball me please!

You can also tip me for my work & more adopts at later dates at these links, PayPal is preferred since my that's what my family uses most. I will do art for you or send you a random design or character as well!

PayPal • Venmo

~

Available characters!

~

As always, I also do art/designs, writing, photography/photo edits, physical merch, dog training & breeding, and I offer plenty of other services as well. Comment below or DM me here or on Discord (righthandman#0002) please! My family needs this money to survive so I'm doing everything I can, and I'm heading to Orlando in a few weeks to help the relief efforts. Any tips or support is appreciated. I'm starting a GoFundMe to fix my Aunt's roof after this is posted and working on owed work tonight 💕

[norbezjones]

I've been thinking a lot about something concerning Romance The Backrooms, so I wanted to write it down and share it.

Content Warning: Discussion of suicidal thoughts, self harm, mental health issues, and homelessness. There is a hopeful ending.

I got the idea for RtB in October, when I was living on a friend's couch and trying to find permanent housing. That ended up being a really difficult month for me, because I self-harmed for the first time in months and, as a result, I went to inpatient.

I was there for a while, and I got better. With all the time I had in thee, I worked on creative things, and really fleshed out RtB. I couldn't live with my friend anymore after October ended, but the social worker told me that she would find me a group home.

However, when I was transferred to a different wing of the hospital, I was given a new social worker. And this one said that I couldn't get into a group home, and he was going to discharge me into a homeless shelter asap.

That resulted in a spike of suicidal thoughts. Why had I come this far, only for this to happen to me? Should I just end it? But, no--if I did that, who would be around to make Romance The Backrooms? If my light snuffed out now, that game would never be made.

I've been suicidal since I was 10 years old, and it's usually not big, grand things that make me want to stay alive. It's the dogs I would never pet and the movies I'd never be able to watch that make me say, "One more day." And RtB became my "One more day." It became the reason why I persevered.

After I was discharged, my friends told me that I still needed inpatient help & psychiatric care. So after toughing things out for a few days, I brought myself to the ER and was admitted. A few days later, I was brought to another inpatient, and two weeks later, that inpatient sent me to a short-term residential program.

It was a wonderful program, and I met some fantastic people there. I also worked more on RtB--I figured out all of my love interests, and drew them for the first time. On the characters profiles, which you can view here, there are drawings with the description, "Concept art from when I was in treatment in December 2023." These were all done while I was at the residential program.

I was able to scrounge up some money to be able to get an Airbnb after I discharged--it was cheaper than other options, and would hopefully be temporary while I searched for permanent housing.

Unfortunately, finding housing is difficult when you haven't worked in 2 years (mainly thanks to pseudo-dementia, which I've documented extensively in this game here), and don't have the money for a security deposit. I also wasn't poor enough or disabled enough to get help from the government. Very unfortunate.

Long story short, I ran out of funds to stay at the Airbnb in 2 months. I was able to get into a short-term housing program for homeless folks with mental health issues. That was when I met Kevin.

Kevin told me he could help me get hotel & housing vouchers if I went with him after our time at the program was done. I had no other options, so I did. I spent the money I had keeping us afloat at a motel while we waited for the voucher, and went across the state to a different one when Kevin told me the one we were at wouldn't accept the voucher. When he left to retrieve it, I waited very patiently for him to return.

He never did.

I suspect the whole thing was some sort of scam all along, and even though part of me knew it could be, I went with it because it was either go with Kevin, or go to the homeless shelter.

The next day, I had to check out of the motel--I had literally no money left. I gathered my bags and sat in the lobby--well, I say lobby, but there weren't any chairs or tables, so I was basically sitting on the ground in the corner of the room, with sun from the window scorching my back--while I tried to come up with a plan.

I made a lot of phone calls to people who might be able to help me, but nothing came through. Even 211 had nothing, because the homeless shelters in the town I was in were full.

I became suicidal again at that moment. Again, the eternal question: why had I come this far, only for this to happen to me? Should I just end it?

No, goddammit. If I go now, Romance The Backrooms will never be made, I thought to myself. I want to be around to make it. I want to be around to see it through. Come on, Bez. Things looks like shit, but let's keep going anyway.

Not long after that thought came to my mind, another person entered my head, someone else I could call. I wavered, but eventually decided to try calling them, and they answered. They were able to help.

It's thanks to them that I am where I am today. I have housing for a while, and I got a job that I'm satisfied with.

Best of all, I'm working on Romance The Backrooms.

I'm so happy I stayed around to see it through.

[starpaw0007]

(same anon from those song recs)

perfect, i'll return with more song recs i need to scrounge through all of my playlists

labyrinth by miracle musical and crucified by army of lovers give ford i think but i cant quite place why, he'd definitely karaoke them

(also while i'm here can i just say i was so pleasantly surprised when you posted about gravity falls i found you from iz and IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE GF TOO HFKUSHFUKS)

AAaa thank you for the requests!

And wow, I always forget a lot of people have found me through Invader Zim.

Gravity Falls is actually one of those childhood shows that directly influenced my views on animation. It's the show that introduced me to the concept of serialized storytelling!

I watched it from it's premier (I was 12 when the show came out!) all the way to its completion. And it will always hold a special place in my heart.

It's also the reason the only tree I know how to draw, is a pine tree...

Here's some really old art

The drawing I made after watching the premiere of the final episode...