#Duck Butt Designs

[diogxnxs]

Not another "I Accidentally Wore the Wrong Sailor Uniform and Suddenly I'm the Heroine of a Reverse Harem Plot!?" And, yes, Duck Avenger Magical Girl transformation has been made possible by Gyro Gearloose himself. This time with DonRo or DonGyro. Made this for the @jde-kiyoshi's New Year ship request. I hope you like it! I hope you have a great 2024.

[dancingbirdie]

Some goblin Astarion things.

He pinches you when you toss and turn too much in your shared bed. “Wake up and stop flailing! Gods. I’ll have bruises from your pointy elbows in the morning.”

He sews “kick me” on the butt of Gale’s trousers in dark, dark gray after the Wizard pisses him off. Karlach sees it with her dark vision when they’re in the Underdark and promptly knees him in the ass.

He steals all of Halsin’s wooden ducks and plants them in Wyll’s tent, for shits and giggles.

He tries to line a tripwire across the front of Lae’zel’s tent entrance, but ends up pricking himself on a blow dart booby trap he failed to perceive. Incurs -3 hit points and the bleeding condition for 10 turns.

He nips your neck like a disgruntled cockatoo when you tease him in front of the other party members.

He puts swamp green clothing dye in Shadowheart’s bottle of hair dye when she’s not looking, causing her to endure some sickly green highlights for a fortnight.

He steals Wither’s staff while he’s speaking with Jaheria and hides it among Lae’zel’s armory. Gets hauled over by the ear by Jaheira to apologize to Withers. And Lae’zel.

He hides in the bushes near camp and makes god-awful wailing noises to keep Scratch and the owlbear cub barking while the party is trying to get some sleep.

He fabricates some ridiculous story about how the Weave is really a hoax designed by Big Magic to control the masses, just to see Gale go purple in the face while arguing against this “utter tripe.”

He loudly proclaims that he overheard Shadowheart telling Wyll she could beat Lae’zel in unarmed combat with a hand tied behind her back, then scampers away cackling when the two lady warriors start yelling at one another.

[omega-e123]

How would shadow react if you got injured on accident? Recently got injured and had to get stitches and I love your stories so I was wondering what he would do and how he would take care of them 😁

Shadow’s shoes were left unattended by the front door. What psychopath would wear shoes around the house and track dirt?

A short while ago, Shadow excused himself to go to the bathroom. Ever since you two met, you’ve always wanted to try them on. The golden opportunity has finally presented itself.

You plucked them from their spot and proceeded to put them on in the back yard. They were heavy and it’s no wonder why his kicks packed a punch even while not rocket boosted. It took a bit of conscious effort to lift your feet off the ground.

How did he manage to hover in place? On the outside and in, the shoes had a fairly simple and smooth design. No bottons, slides, nothing. Not that you’ve ever seen him do anything in particular to activate them.

Moving to one end of the yard, you break into a sprint. With a little speed it might turn on. It felt as if someone had duck taped 5 pound weights to your feet.

The back door opens with a call of your name. “What are you—,” Shadow was about to ask before being interrupted by a screech combined with rough tumbling into your patio table. In no time at all, bare feet patter against the warm concrete.

Some dirt mixed with blood cakes your palms and knees. With a loud guttural groan, you rolled yourself over to sit on your butt. In front of you, Shadow is knelt down on one knee. His brows knitted together in concern.

The voice that wanted to scold you for your clumsiness is shoved far into the back of his mind. Instead he tenderly takes your hands and brings it closer to his face, inspecting the damage.

A kiss is pressed to your knuckles. “Are you alright? What in the world were you doing?,” he asks, not a speck of anger laced in his words.

“I uhh.. wanted to try out your shoes? I don’t get it. How do they turn on? You usually just start running.

Your legs are next to be checked out. “They work by channeling chaos energy. That’s how I’m able to control the output… Can you stand? Careful not to hit your head.”

Shadow covers the edge of the table with one hand while the other helps you up. A sharp pain is sent to your hip as you rise eliciting a wince and a whine.

“Allow me to help clean your injuries. The last thing we want is to have them get infected.” An arm worms its way around your waist for support. Slow and steady he guides you to the restroom. Of course he’d notice you attempting to hide your limp. A sharp exhale leaves him.

After sitting you down on the toilet seat, he begins to clean the scrapes with a wet towel. Straight to work. Not a single word has been uttered since walking back inside the house. His lips pressed tight, you’re sure Shadow is clenching his jaw.

Guilt of worrying him and possibly damaging his shoes settle in. A mumbled, “I’m sorry” causes Shadow’s ear to flick.

Devoid of emotion he immediately replies, “Next time you want to use my stuff as playthings, ask first.”

His eyes are lasered in at the task at hand. Thankfully, once the blood has been cleaned up, your scrapes don’t look as bad. Nothing a giant bandage can’t fix.

With the final bandage literally slapped on the palm of your hand, he announces ‘done’. Shadow starts to pack up the medical supplies, well aware you’re pouting at him.

“That hurt!”

“Of course it did. That is what happens when you’re not careful,” he deadpans, knowing you had meant the little ‘slap’.

This guy! You’re already in pain and he adds on to it. “Shadow, you put it on wrong. Look, it’s crooked and peeking out.”

Before he puts the kit away, he pulls out one extra bandaid and slips it aside. “Did I?,” Shadow glances at it, “It looks fine to me.”

“No it’s not. Fix it!” You shove your poor aching hand into his face.

Shadow yanks it out of his face. “Alright. Fine.” The old bandage chucked into the trash and the new one replaces its spot with less roughness. He holds your wrist in place while he presses his lips to the bandage. “Is that better?”

“…Yes.”

“Good. I just want to make sure: does anywhere else hurt?”

“Well, I think I busted up my lips earlier too.”

A chuckle escapes him. Smiling, shaking his head, Shadow replies, “I was hoping you would address your limp…” His hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking your bottom lip. “But I don’t mind taking care of this first.”

[the-californicationist]

I don't know if you're taking requests (You can ignore this if you're not)

I remember reading something (it was either on facebook or a twitter thread) about a guy who made a tinder account of his girlfriend to see how many likes/swipes she'd get

And boy he didn't realise how many men swiped right on her. I think within an hour she got like over 1000 (he was ready to buy his girlfriend a cow, a camel, diamond ring. Basically anything she wanted because he realised how lucky he actually was that she wanted him)

ANYWAY

I can't stop thinking about the cod men doing it. Like what would their reaction be??

I feel like Kyle would just shower you with gifts. Oh you glanced at that designer handbag, he's in that shop with his card out. He don't care about the price

lol this is such a funny premise! i wish i had seen the video!! here's my take, otherwise known as how to tease Gaz within an inch of his life.

Get Ratio'd

“What do you mean switch? I don’t wanna be on that bloody app in the first place, babe,” Kyle scrunched up his nose at your proposal, but you pressed him.

“C’mon! It’ll be a laugh. Just for fun, Gaz. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

You had seen a viral video, and now you had an idea. There was a couple who had switched phones for the night to swipe through each other’s dating apps, just to see how many hits they’d get. The woman in the video seemed defeated after trying her best to dress up her man’s profile and not finding any matches, but the man looked like he was shell-shocked, and he told her they were deleting these apps right away. Experiment over. So, you were curious. You knew Gaz was a handsome man, so you were eager to see how you’d do. 

He peered down at you over his nose and sighed, handing you his phone. You sat on the couch together, downloading the apps, picking out pictures, making sure to set the settings to casual dates only. No need to trick people into thinking you were actually on the market. 

“I just don’t want you to get jealous, love,” he smiled, genuinely concerned, "I've been told I'm a handsome chap." You smiled back,

“No worries, babe.  I can take it.”

Finally, after everything was set up, you switched phones. The boys would be over in just a few minutes, and you were eager for all of the likes to start rolling in. 

“We should make ourselves a little wager, yeah?” You suggested, knowing Kyle wasn’t one to shy away from competition.

“Aye, alright. Most likes wins?”

“Nah, most messages. ‘Cause that takes guts. And we’ll stop after the football game.”

“You’re on,” he smiled, giving your butt a playful slap as you went to buzz the boys in from your front door. 

The match was on for a good twenty minutes before you even got your first notification. Your heart sank a little when it looked like a bot, some garbage about “You look lonely. I can fix that. Click here!” It wasn’t a real girl. You showed Kyle and he shrugged, 

“It counts. It’s a DM, innit?”

“Alright,” you said, trying to get a peek at his app.

He swiped the phone away from you,

“Ah-ah! No peekin’.”

“Oh, c’mon, babe. No one wants to do me?” You whined, pouting at him.

He snaked his arm around you, palming your arse in his wide hand, 

“I wanna do you, babe.”

“I know,” you giggled, raising your hips to give him more access, earning yourself a hard squeeze, “I just thought I still had it.”

“You definitely do, babe. This is just a toxic app. Don’t think about it.”

So, you put it out of your mind. You got exactly three more messages for the rest of the night. One girl sent a friendly “Hey!” with a smiley emoji, another sent a photo of herself doing a sort of duck lips thing in a low-cut top. Finally, you got one that said, “Is that your real name? Just want to make sure I’ll be screaming the right one later.”

You cackled, showing the boys. Soap laughed with you, his eyes wide at her sexy message, and Price gave you a good-natured eyeroll. The only thing Ghost said was,

“Has he showed you yours yet?”

You looked over at Gaz who was burning a hole through Ghost with his glare, and he shut off your phone screen and put it in his pocket. 

“No… why?” You asked.

“No reason,” Ghost retreated, drinking his beer and fixing his eyes back on the match. 

A few minutes later, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, and then you lingered in the hallway, listening to the conversation happening between Gaz and his friends in your den. 

“Oh, mate,” Soap whispered none too quietly, “You are in fuckin’ trouble, ain’tcha?” 

“Shove off, Johnny. Help me figure out how to fuckin’ delete this,” Gaz hissed.

“Well, son,” Price didn’t even bother to lower his tone, sipping on his whiskey with a smile on his face, “You bloody well won your bet.”

“I knew it would be bad, but I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Gaz handed your phone over to Ghost who was gesturing for him to give it. 

Ghost read the message aloud,

“I could call you beautiful, but since beauty comes from within, I’ll just have to check for myself… Fuckin’ hell. That’s rank.”

Soap was looking over his shoulder, scrolling furiously, reading as he did,

“Your eyes are stunnin’. You’ve got beautiful eyes. Wow, your eyes are beautiful… like, c’mon mate, a little creativity?”

“You don’t want to read the creative ones,” Price warned, taking the phone from Ghost, reading his favorite, “Jus’ wonderin’ if I should respect the fuck outta you or fuck the respect out of you.” 

Gaz leaned back on the couch, exasperated,

“What am I gonna do? I gotta buy her one of those fuckin’ bags that cost as much as a goddamn Aston. She said she wanted to do Bora Bora, or was it Fiji? Maybe I can take her for her birthday? How much are tickets?”

“Mate, you’re cooked,” Soap muttered, then gasped, “Oh, Christ. Look at the size of this one's fuckin’ knob!”

“Help me book her a bloody spa day. Do you think she wants jewelry? Holy shite, this bloke just sent a screenshot of his bank account. What the fuck?”

“She’s already with you, mate,” Ghost shrugged, “What’s the bother?”

“He’s bothered ‘cause now he knows that,” Price grumbled, checking his watch, “...in under an hour, she could have a quarter of the population of London bangin’ down her door just to smell the inside of her bloody shoe. And he’d have…”

“A bot and two birds,” Gaz frowned, crossing his arms.

“A bot and two birds,” Price nodded, sipping his drink and turning back to the game. 

You wandered back into the room, plopping down beside Gaz, pretending you hadn’t heard the discussion that had just transpired. Gaz put an arm around you almost protectively, kissing your forehead,

“Hey, babes. What was the name of that spa you wanted to book? Thought we could go together this weekend.”

“Kyle,” you turned to him decisively, “Show me the texts.”

“No,” he shook his head, turning back to the game.

“Kyle,” you squeezed his thigh.

“No! You don’t need to see all that.”

“All what?”

“The one hundred eighty-seven messages that he —” Soap interrupted, but Gaz cut him off.

“Oy! Mate! Shut up.”

“Just show her,” Ghost rolled his eyes. 

“One hundred…” You were in shock, and as Gaz handed you your phone back, you scrolled through the mess that he had been hiding from you, “Oh, God…”

“Yeah…” Gaz sighed, “So, if you want that purse that the Kardashian whats-her-name had, just add it to the cart, alright? Jesus.”

You were shocked by the level of attention you had received, but when you saw the content, you had to stop yourself from dying with laughter,

“Not sure if I’m just hungry or if you truly are a snack. Either way I’ll eat you. Oh, no. Look at this one: My cock’s a rescue, wanna give it a good home? Wow… these are rough! How many dick pics did you get?”

“Too many,” Gaz shook his head. 

“Aww, baby,” you hugged his neck, teasing him, “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. None of these blokes is half as fit as you.” 

“Dinnae you see the fuckin’ knob on Fabio over here? He's askin' for your Venmo. I say you should send it.” Soap chuckled, shocked, flipping back to one of the profiles.

Gaz fought him back, snatching the phone, and you laughed with the others, shaking your head, 

“So… what was that you were saying about a handbag?”

After the laughter eventually died down and the boys had gone home, you helped Gaz clean up the kitchen. Then, you both deleted the app and returned your phones, glad to be done with your little experiment. You decided to tease your man just a little further, 

“Well, you won the wager. What’s your prize, love?”

You expected him to take the bait, to bend you over the counter and claim you possessively, using you to let out his frustration. But, he turned serious, his expression almost somber, and he kissed you softly, disarming you.

“You are my prize,” he purred, “And I’ll do anything to show you how lucky I am to have you.”

“Hmm… anything?” You smirked, tucking your hand into the waistband of his jeans and pulling him closer. 

Finally, that rakish grin you loved so dearly was back, spreading across his face, 

“Name your price, love.”

You pretended to think for a moment, letting your hands wander down into the warmth of his pants, palming his growing cock, playing with it and feeling it throb for you, then you winked at him, 

“I hear Tahiti is nice this time of year.”

He raked his hand down his face, but he was hiding a smile, groaning,

"Tahiti..." Then, after a breath, he snatched you, holding you in his arms, carrying you kicking and giggling to your bedroom, "C'mere, you. Tahiti can wait."

AO3 Link

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Binoculars

Debut: Super Mario 3D Land

Wow! What a large and crisp render of Binoculars. This is more than a lot of enemies get. And it's all for Binoculars!

It is nice to see binoculars as an installed apparatus for public use. It reminds me of those binoculars that are sometimes at parks or zoos where you can put in a quarter and get a limited amount of time to look at ducks more closely. Let's look!

Wow! There's a North American Ruddy Duck! in this pond! That's my favorite duck! The blue of the male's bill is probably my favorite color, and they are so cute, especially with their funny proportions. Their head looks too small for their body, but their feet look too BIG for the rest of them! Their feet are large and further back on their body because they are divers who swim down to find food, unlike the dabbling ducks, which keep their butts above the water while foraging. Oops! I forgot that this is a Mario Post and that we aren't actually watching ducks at a pond!

Anyway I just found out those kinds of binoculars are called Tower Viewers. More like Quacker Viewers. Ok on to Mario for real now! Mario, sadly, does not view ducks with these binoculars. They are free, however, which is nice! I'm glad there are ways for everyone to enjoy the Mushroom Kingdom's landscapes at a distance and at no costs. In fact, Mario is sometimes rewarded for using them, as a Toad will throw him a Star Medal upon being seen! A Toad who really wants to bee looked at and goes HAH BAH.

Mario can also see a UFO through the binoculars sometimes! This is often brought up as a Creepy Easter Egg despite the fact that aliens have been present in this franchise since 1989!

With all that about the 3D Land binoculars out of the way, I am really here to say that the binoculars in Odyssey are BETTER. They look like ROB, and overall are a Funny Robot, so they are obviously better by default! They even move around on their own as if they are looking around, and they are really so good at looking, since they are binoculars. I think the binoculars themselves are bird enthusiasts and watch them in delight constantly!

These binoculars even have LORE as seen in the art book, and shared by Suppermariobroth! They are made by the same company as the 3D Land binoculars, and are an older model not capable of stereoscopic 3D! They were installed by the sightseeing company for onsite investigation, and someone has to come and collect the logs from the devices every so often. I seriously love this all sooo much! It is so cute and wonderful that they put this much thought into humble little Binoculars! BinocuLORE!

I would now like to talk about just how these binoculars work! Upon being Captured, they shoot up using spray propulsion (not jet propulsion!!!) and let Mario scope out the area from the sky! Mario got extremely lucky that he happened across these specific binoculars when he happened to have the ability to Capture them, because anyone else using this would be in extreme danger. Please hang on tight!

Binoculars most recently appear in Super Nintendo World, where they are now real! They use the 3D Land design, which makes sense knowing it is canonically the modern design. You can even look at certain things to get little rewards just like in the game! Super Mario in real life! Wa Who!

[adore-laur]

HIM

— a flashback of the moment sawyer realized she was in love with harry 🩶

——

Sawyer, a devoted hopeless romantic and lover of stories intertwined with strings of fate, knew Harry was her lifelong companion in May of 1989.

In a way, she felt guilty about it. She was already in a relationship with Jordan, a man she settled for and could be comfortably mundane around. There weren't fireworks shooting off in her heart every time she was with her boyfriend, but she was enticed by his mellow demeanor and how he bragged about her beauty to his friends. At the end of the day, she was loyal to him over everyone else until a puppeteer called Fate played with the strings of Sawyer's life path and made things a bit complicated.

Enter: Harry. There was no need to retell the tale of how fate had brought the two of them together in the form of a volleyball. That day had just been the beginning of Sawyer's world tipping on its axis because with someone like Harry—charming, chivalrous, and exuberant—the more time she spent with him, the harder it became to vanquish certain feelings.

After almost two years of friendship, Sawyer began to experience funny little pulses of attraction toward him. They started in her heart—if he had simply walked into a room, hugged her hello, or smiled in her direction, it was as if someone was rapidly poking her heart while chanting, him, him, him. Then her gut joined the party. Giddy flutters and delicious swirls of temptation danced around whenever Harry touched her. Ever the gentleman, the touches were always innocent—a heavy palm on her shoulder, a teasing noogie on the top of her head, and sometimes a comforting kiss on her cheek when their otherwise lighthearted conversations turned serious.

It became dangerous when those sensations traveled even lower. When Sawyer started to feel pulses in places that should never be elicited by a friend, she knew she had to draw a boundary line and slap herself upside the head.

Yet in those vulnerable moments, a problematic thought circled her brain. Could she possibly be in love with two people at the same time? Was what she felt with Jordan even considered love? He never called her on the landline and talked to her for hours like Harry did. He never surprised her with trips to the mall or a movie night. He rarely asked her questions about herself. Had her idea of true love been skewed all along? Or was she a terrible person for liking Harry more than anyone else?

A single day in May had given her clarity. It all started with a sprained ankle and an almost-kiss in a hospital bed.

——

Sawyer was beginning to believe playing volleyball on Cocoa Beach was a cursed activity. Something always went awry when she stepped foot on the silky sand and ducked under the net to get in her designated setter position.

Maybe it was because the usual participants forwent the standard girls versus boys system and opted for teams based on nothing other than the order of arrival. It was two p.m. when Sawyer was dropped off at the beach by Harry before he headed to baseball practice. She was immediately placed on a team with four boys and one other girl around the same age. They were large men with linebacker shoulders and bulging biceps. Probably jocks, considering how they grunted and slapped each other's butts and heads whenever they scored.

Sometime during the second round, Sawyer prepared to set the volleyball for the man beside her to spike over the net. She bent her knees and elbows while watching the ball soar on a perfect path toward her. The man, without warning or team communication, flung his body into her to reach the ball first, just like any egotistical male playing a competitive game often did.

Suddenly off balance, Sawyer felt her left ankle twist in the wrong direction as the man finished his fall against her, knocking her to the ground. Their collective tumble was cushioned by soft grains of sand, but it still stunned her as the weight of a sweaty, six-foot body rolled off her.

"Sorry about that," he said, dusting his hands off and casually walking away like he hadn't body-slammed her into another dimension.

"Jerk," Sawyer mumbled. She inhaled shallow breaths and winced when she moved her ankle, the pain registering fully. The twinge was sharp, and she instantly knew she had done something to it. Or, rather, the man did. Was volleyball really that serious to him? Had he even noticed her standing there, ready to assist him like the good teammate she was? Ugh, boys and their lack of spatial awareness.

The girl on her team raced over, with a lifeguard following closely behind. "Are you hurt?" she asked in a Southern drawl.

Tears brimmed Sawyer's waterline. "I twisted my ankle," she said uneasily, reaching out to touch it. The skin was tender and swelling already.

The lifeguard kneeled and examined her with hooded blue eyes. He looked like a teenager, with lanky arms and a red whistle lying against his freckled chest. "Can you move it at all?"

"No," she whimpered, her voice thick with fear.

"Yikes. I'll send over an ambulance."

She shook her head vehemently. "That's very kind of you, but I think I'd feel more comfortable being driven by someone else." It wasn’t a total lie, but the actual reasoning behind her answer had to do with the fact that an ambulance ride was a cost she simply could not afford. The dent it would create in her unimpressive savings account made her nauseated.

"Sure," said the lifeguard. "Is there someone in particular we can call for you?"

Sawyer closed her eyes against the blinding sun. Harry. A rush of relief accompanied his name. She needed him. When she called, he always came. The pain would fade within a single second of basking in his sunshine.

But when Sawyer's eyes opened, logic pounded her brain and took charge. "Jordan. Um, he's my boyfriend. I'd like to speak with him myself if that's possible."

The lifeguard shrugged. "I guess we can allow that. We'll have to carry you to the community center, though."

"That's fine."

The girl and the lifeguard lifted her carefully and walked toward the little brick building by the beach's parking lot. It was quite humiliating. In a private office area, they set her down on a metal chair. There was a bureaucratic desk with paperwork, nondescript folders, one too many succulent plants, and other miscellaneous office supplies scattered on the sleek mahogany surface. Unfortunately, the room smelled like mildew and rotten banana peels. The noisy air conditioning unit rattling in the corner made it waft around rather unpleasantly.

After offering her an ice pack and pointing at an outdated telephone system, the lifeguard lingered by the door. "You can hang in here until you get picked up." He smiled awkwardly. "Hope you feel better."

"Thanks."

The girl beside him cleared her throat and said, "The guy who knocked you down is my brother. I'll make sure to kick his ass later."

Sawyer only managed to laugh weakly before they both left her alone, the creaky door shutting behind them.

With an exaggerated groan, Sawyer picked up the phone and dialed Jordan's number. Hopefully, he had his Motorola on him, but an awful part of her secretly wished he wouldn't answer. She hoped she would have no choice but to try her second option. God, she hoped Harry would barge into the room, demand who caused her such pain, and then kiss her ankle better. And then he would kiss—

"Sawyerrrrr. Why're you bugging me?" The slurred greeting obnoxiously sounded against her ear. Lively chatter was muffled in the background, and a phantom smell of beer made her crinkle her nose. She had encouraged him to hang out with his friends from college. Apparently, day drinking was their idea of fun. Jordan had asked if she wanted to come with him, but she had said she’d rather be outside soaking up the May sun than inside a dark, stuffy bar. He didn't seem to care.

"Hey, Jordan. Are you able to pick me up from Cocoa Beach?"

"What, right now? I'm not even in Orlando, babe."

Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she asked, "Where are you?"

"Uh, I think we're in..." he trailed off before yelling, "Yo, Tanner! Where are we?" A few seconds of deep, unintelligible voices boomed before he said, "We're in Zellwood."

Great. He was over thirty minutes away. There was absolutely no way he would drive back to Orlando through early summer traffic. Plus, he sounded hammered. Double whammy.

"Okay," Sawyer whispered, knowing her voice would crack if she spoke any louder. "Never mind. Have fun."

Jordan tutted. "You miss me, dollface? Is that why you're calling?"

"You caught me," she lied, trying her best to sound lovesick. "But I'll see you tonight, right?"

"Maybe," he said distractedly. "We might go to Daniel's party later and crash at his place."

She racked her brain for any recollection of Daniel. Nope, nothing. "Sure, that's cool with me."

"Good," he replied, like her answer was the only one he would accept. "We're starting another round of beer pong, so I gotta bounce."

If Sawyer mentioned her ankle, there would be a pointless argument about the situation. She could practically predict it: You have to pay attention to your surroundings, Sawyer. Don't let men push you around, Sawyer.

So, she didn't. Slouching in the rigid chair, she released a long, anxious breath and said, "Bye, J."

"Adios!"

She rammed the phone into the cradle and pressed the heels of her palms against her forehead. She glared at the square buttons, her eyes darting around the numbers in the order of a phone number she knew by heart. There was no way she would bother him. There had to be another option, but regrettably, her parents worked an hour outside the city, and she honestly couldn't remember any of her friend's numbers off the top of her head.

Her ankle throbbed with agonizing heat, and the increased blood flow was circulating there with heavy pressure. Whimpering, she quickly picked up the phone again and pressed the ten digits. She had false hope that Harry would answer, considering he was occupied with practice and most likely didn't have his bag phone near him.

As Sawyer twisted the spiral cord around her pointer finger, the line rang monotonously. Three times, four times, five... When an automated voice directed her to leave a voicemail, she felt tears fall to her chin. She just wanted to go home, shower, crawl under cold sheets, and curl up next to Harry while he iced her ankle and played with her hair until she fell asleep in his embrace.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered to herself. The last resort was calling for an ambulance, but she really didn't want to sit in the back of a scary vehicle surrounded by strangers.

In a sudden moment of desperation, Sawyer searched the room for a phone book, all while hopping on one foot. After opening and shutting several filing cabinet drawers, she finally found one and flipped through the thin yellow pages until she landed on the "T" section. Her gaze slid down the directory before stopping at Tinker Field.

She dialed the venue's number and patiently waited while sitting down again, the cool metal of the chair washing over the back of her thighs. She was still in her bikini, and stray grains of sand were accumulating all over the floor. She was a hot mess.

"Hello, this is Kathy at the Tinker Field Ticket Office," said a cheerful voice on the other line. "How may I help you today?"

"Hi, my name is Sawyer Clemente. I was wondering if you could get Harry Styles on the phone, please. He pitches for the SunRays and is at practice right now on the field. He's my friend, and... I'm having a little emergency. I need his help."

"Oh, dear," Kathy replied with genuine concern. "Well, the team is quite busy practicing, but I can try my best to reach him. I can give you a call back and let you know. You said your name is Sawyer?"

"Yes. But if he's too busy, don't bother." She looked down at her ankle, grateful it still had all its bones intact. "Tell him it's not a matter of life or death."

"No problem, sweetheart. I'm going to put you on hold and then get back to you shortly."

"Thank you so much." Insufferable hold music played, adding more misery to the pain in her ankle. The skin was even more swollen, and a faint purple bruise stained her protruded ankle bone. The ice pack was barely numbing it.

Sawyer thought back to when her volleyball serve had knocked Harry to the ground two years ago. She had been so worried, but he’d taken it like a champ and dazzled her with the brightest smile she had ever seen. He had made her blush within five minutes of meeting him—it was an effect he had on every woman, but he always brushed their attention off like an insignificant piece of lint. No one could quite capture his attention for long enough, and she was unsure why he had chosen to stick with her in particular.

While Harry was easily distracted by the world around him, Sawyer never had to beg for his attention. Whenever they were together, he devoted his time and energy to their plans—relaxing beach days, goofing around at the local arcade, cracking up over episodes of Whose Line Is It Anyway?, and relishing whatever other random activities Harry hatched in that spontaneous brain of his.

Jordan, who’s on the other end of the personality spectrum, was too busy with work or partying to spend much one-on-one time with her. During the rare times they did, she was usually dragged along to some unfamiliar bar or frat house filled with strangers who reeked of alcohol. Despite being jaded by all the tagalongs, she dealt with it because it made Jordan happy. And, in a twisted way, it often meant she could see Harry the following day while Jordan recovered from a hangover that left him bedridden and chronically cranky.

Debilitating guilt consumed her whenever she compared the two men. There was a clear difference between the two—boyfriend and boy friend. If the line with Harry began to blur, she would have to...

Her cerebral spiral was thwarted when the hold music abruptly stopped mid-saxophone solo. Kathy's kind voice returned. "All right, I have your friend here on the—" Muffled static interfered, causing Sawyer to perk up in concern.

"Sawyer?" Harry interrupted, out of breath and panicked. She could picture him sweaty, tanned, and tired from practicing in the humid Florida air. "What's going on, angel? Tell me what's the matter."

Her face crumpled with sweet relief. Hearing her favorite voice made more pathetic tears trail down her cheeks as she said, "When I was playing volleyball, some guy bumped into me and knocked me over. I'm pretty sure I sprained my ankle." She combed her fingers through her frizzy, sun-warmed hair, finally able to breathe a little easier. "I need someone to drive me to the hospital." And the universe wants it to be you.

"Fuck, okay," he said frantically. "Where are you? I'll get you right now."

She sniffled. "Aren't you tied up with practice?"

"Sawyer, where are you?" he repeated more firmly. Her attempt at being reasonable died a quick death.

"Um, you know that dingy community center right on Cocoa Beach? I'm in an office room there."

"Isn't that place abandoned?" he asked. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. I'll be there in ten. Hang tight."

"Harry—" The line went dead, and Sawyer blankly stared at the wall covered with flyers and corkboards. As much as she felt culpable for stealing him from a cardinal moment in his new career, a small, grateful smile tugged at her lips.

Deep in her soul, she had known he would drop everything for her. He always did.

——

The door opened, revealing a curly head of hair and gentle, curious eyes that were the shade of sage in bloom. Harry slowly walked into the room and assessed her predicament. He wore a baseball uniform she hadn't seen him in yet—he had been recently drafted to Orlando’s rebranded minor league team. Blue and white striped pants and a jersey with matching colors tucked into the waistband caught Sawyer's attention first. The garments hugged his frame well. The body he maintained when he was nineteen had changed slightly, with thicker biceps straining against the sleeves of any shirt he wore due to strength training. Same with his thighs.

Get a grip! She mentally scolded herself before her imagination dove into treacherous waters.

"Sawyer," Harry whispered, solace rasping his voice. "Where's your towel? Aren't you freezing in here?"

She had been so stressed that the constant goosebumps rising across her skin went completely unnoticed by her. "I don't know," she whined. "Just get me out of here, please."

Harry reached his hand around the back of his neck and tugged his shirt off. Sawyer almost gasped but was relieved when she saw he had a white tank top underneath. She went to grab it, realizing her nipples were noticeably pebbled, but Harry insisted on pulling it over her head.

"Sorry it smells grody," he said, "but I'm not letting you walk into the hospital in just a bikini."

"It's okay. It smells better than whatever died in this room."

Harry grinned at her, his eyes sparkling like those of a captivated cartoon character. He laughed quietly before giving her a noogie and crouching to study her ankle. "Looks like someone took volleyball a little too seriously."

"It wasn't me," she said defensively. "You should've seen the dude—he was massive."

"Then you're lucky he didn't break twenty of your fragile bones." His expression turned serious. "Kathy had me worried when she said you were having an emergency."

"What did you think happened?"

"Well, my first instinct was that you left your curling iron plugged in and your house went up in flames."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But you getting hurt is somehow worse."

Sawyer pouted her lips, and Harry's rapt gaze briefly locked on them. Before she could figure out why her heart fluttered at the subtle motion, he lifted her in his arms and carried her out the door. The hem of his shirt draped down to her knees as she rested her cheek against the beautiful column of his neck, breathing in his natural masculine scent. Summer. Pines. Home. Instantly, a sense of safety covered her like a treasured childhood blanket.

Before long, she was gently set in the passenger seat of Harry's Audi. He settled behind the wheel and patted his lap. "You need to elevate your ankle," he said while starting the engine.

She awkwardly shifted and laid her ankle on his sturdy thigh. He repositioned the ice pack, which was stolen property now, and steadily looked over at her. "You okay?" he asked, his smooth palm curving around her shin.

She blinked back tears and murmured, "Yes. Thank you for getting me. I'm sorry for cutting your practice short, but I tried calling..." She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head dismissively.

"Who did you try calling?"

Sighing, Sawyer peered out the open window and watched the glimmering teal ocean become more distant. "Jordan, but he was busy."

A stretch of silence hung thickly in the car. Sawyer distracted herself by grabbing the small bag of potato chips in the glovebox and ripping it open. Harry always kept food stored in his car for both him and her. She munched on a few, waiting for a snide response. Jordan was always a sore subject, which was why she often refrained from bringing up his wrongdoings. Too late now.

"Yeah? Busy doing what?" Harry flipped the sunvisor down, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. "Being too much of an asshole to care that his girlfriend is injured?" He muttered the last part bitterly, probably hoping the wind would carry his words away and sock Jordan right in the jaw.

"No, he... I told him he could hang out with his college friends today, so he's been bar-hopping since noon." Sawyer groaned, realizing defending him wasn't helping her case. "He's drunk, okay?"

And Harry left in the middle of his first minor league practice for you, she thought to herself. He was the one you thought of first when the lifeguard asked who to call.

Harry looked about two seconds away from blowing a gasket as his hand squeezed the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. "Interesting," he said in a flat tone that pushed her over the edge.

"Don't even start. Jordan had a valid excuse."

"Sure, but he didn't want to go to the beach with you? Why would he pass that up?"

"Stop." A burst of anger flared in her chest. 

"No, please tell me why your boyfriend chose to spend another one of his days off at a bar instead of with you. Entertain me, Sawyer. Is there something I'm missing? Because—"

"Knock it off!" Overwhelming emotions tightened her throat, and she took a moment to regain control of them. "You're better off pretending he doesn't exist when we're together."

Harry pressed on the brakes roughly, and Sawyer assumed he was going to pull over so they could both cool off. Instead, he accelerated to the speed limit again with nothing but a clenched jaw and a cold demeanor. She hadn't meant to dim his sunshine.

After a minute passed, he said, "Don't put that thought in my head" before turning on the radio.

The rest of the drive to the hospital was as tense as her sprained ligaments.

——

In the hospital bed, Sawyer drifted in and out of consciousness. The nurse had taken X-rays and wrapped her ankle with an elasticized bandage. The good news was that it was only a minor sprain with no tearing. A couple of weeks of resting and icing the area would help her fully recover.

Her ankle was propped on a stack of three pillows with a cold compress lying dormant on it. She was allowed to be discharged after ten more minutes of ice treatment. In the corner of the room, a basketball game was playing on the TV. The early evening sky was gloomy past the large windows—they were designed not to be opened, leaving her to inhale stuffy and sterile air.

Harry was sitting in a chair butted up right beside the bed with a metaphorical storm cloud looming above his head. The brief argument in the car had escalated far beyond normal. The discomfort she was feeling had caused her to get defensive. Harry, though, got accusatory for whatever reason. There was just something about Jordan that rubbed him the wrong way.

Sawyer would have felt weird gossiping about boyfriend problems with Harry—that was more reserved for girl talk. But time and time again, Jordan's name managed to slip into their conversations with no precedent. She was a failing mediator, and she hated feeling like the referee of an endless tug-of-war match, each boy vying for her heart. Platonic versus romantic, of course. No winner would be crowned.

"Harry, are you mad at me?"

His eyes tracked the fast-paced NBA game on the TV screen. "No," he said mildly.

"Okay." Sawyer twiddled her thumbs and sighed loudly. "Can we go home now?"

"No." The restless bounce of his leg contradicted his supposed nonchalance. "Five more minutes."

"Can I try to change your mind?"

"No."

She huffed and squirmed on the rock-hard mattress, dearly missing her comfy twin bed with its puffy pink duvet. "Can I have a hug?" she asked, softening her voice.

Harry finally glanced over at her, albeit suspiciously. "Do you really need one? Are you going to use your brown-eye sorcery to persuade me?"

She stretched his shirt over her bare knees and rested her chin between them. Purposefully widening her eyes, she said, "Yes to both."

He hummed, stood, and invaded her space with a warmth that temporarily soothed her pain. His arms wrapped around her as he snuggled close on the one-person bed. "Better?"

"Much." Sawyer placed her head on his shoulder and asked, "How was practice?"

"The whole hour I was there?" he replied teasingly. Sawyer grumbled in good nature, and he laughed fondly. "I'm kidding—it was great. I felt right at home."

"I'm proud of you, sunray."

With his brows furrowed, Harry smiled down at her. Those lovely dimples begged to be kissed. "Sunray? That's a first."

A bashful blush heated her cheeks. Sometimes she said things around him without thinking about their implications. "Well, you play for the SunRays now," she said quietly, her nose mere centimeters from his. "And... you make the dreary days a lot brighter."

Harry's lips parted, but no sound poured past them. Riveted eyes danced over her face, and his pupils dilated like a drop of black ink in water. "You're my best friend," he said, absentmindedly rubbing a golden strand of her hair between his fingertips. "I would do anything for you."

But would you kiss me if I asked you to?

Sawyer slid her palm up his chest and cupped his stubbled jaw. Their calm breaths mingled, and she let the sweet scent of bubblegum swirl around her hazy mind. She was sleepy, and her desire to capture and caress his pillowy bottom lip wasn't making any sense. Strange feelings blossomed in her stomach when she looked at him—a wild garden of serenity, obsession, and... love. But not the love she usually felt for him. This was a revelation made known by her rapid heartbeat and his strong, familiar body pressed against her.

The pad of her thumb pressed against the corner of his pretty mouth. One inch forward, and she could change the course of her life. What sensual sounds would he make? Would he sigh into the kiss, knowing it was wrong, or would he inhale her soul and ruin everyone else for her? Even entertaining her fantasies felt like cheating. They were just silly thoughts elicited by exhaustion and pain medication. She would never gamble with someone's heart while betraying another.

"Sawyer, I—"

"Miss Clemente? You're all set to go home now." A nurse appeared in the room, unknowingly interrupting their private moment.

Inhaling a tiny gasp, Sawyer decided to kiss Harry's cheek to eliminate any awkwardness, making it seem like that had been her plan all along. Just a chaste, friendly kiss on the cheek with no romantic intentions behind it at all. There was only a rousing physical response when she pulled away that she would suppress, like every other time she touched him.

When Harry carried her to his car again, she stared at his hand, which held her thighs up with a tight, protective grip. He took care of her without needing a reason to. He made her forget about the pain just by gracing her with his lucent presence. He was doing every tender thing her boyfriend should have done.

Sawyer yearned for Harry, and while exhilaration ignited in her veins at the fact, she knew she was in deep trouble.

It was him she was in love with.

——

[oldtvandcomics]

The Lucifer/Alastor rivalry is so fun, because, well, Hell's Greatest Dad sing-off, but also, while they have strikingly similar designs, Alastor is much, MUCH better at being satanic than Lucifer is.

First of all, they really look VERY similar. In a show where every character has such a unique design, I remember feeling disappointed the first time I saw a picture of what Lucifer would look like, because it was so similar to Alastor. Same general shape, same coat, they even both have a staff of some kind. Only of course, if you were to remove all the apple, snake and radio elements from their costumes and show this picture to someone who doesn't know Hazbin Hotel and ask which of the two is the Devil, they would definitely pick Alastor. He is taller, wears dark red instead of white, and his ears look like horns.

It goes even further. Among all demons, Alastor is by far the most demonic. When he transforms he really becomes absolutely monstrous. Lucifer meanwhile is angelic.

Within the story, Lucifer doesn't do much, especially not any Devil activities. He's just trying to dissociate from his depression by making rubber ducks. Meanwhile, Alastor is the one who is working hard on gaining power, he is the one manipulating people, killing those who get in his way and chaining souls to himself by making deals. He is the one who uses his political connections to get Charlie an army at the end, and despite not being able to kill Adam, he does a very good job holding his own against him.

Hell's Greatest Dad was not about being Charlie's father figure, it was about Alastor trying to take Lucifer's place. Quite literally. "Can you butt out of my song!" "Your song?! I started this!" "I'm singing it, I'll finish it!" Yeah, so this is at the same time about 1) the literal song they're singing, 2) Charlie's life, and 3) Alastor taking Lucifer's place by pushing him to the side.

I still don't know why Alastor decided that picking a fight with Lucifer upon sight was a good idea, but, like, we can all agree that he is aiming for his place, mostly by getting Charlie to depend on him. Which is also what his line in Ready For This was: "She's filled with potential that I could guide / Stick with her you'll be on the winning side!"

Many people theorize that Alastor is the final bad guy in the show. I don't think so, he is WAY too likeable. He is, however, firmly on his own side, and will go against Charlie if he thinks that he'd benefit from it. And then switch back the last moment, obviously. He panicked now about being too kind, next season, he's going to try and be more ruthless, try to stop caring about the people he clearly started to consider his friends. But he has to end up on the side of the heroes for the audience to be happy. Villains need to be destroyed, we do NOT want Alastor to be destroyed.

No, in my opinion, he is going to take Lucifer's place as the Devil.

[mismatchedtwins]

Mismatched Twins - Take Five

“I cannot believe you’re blaming me for this.”

Donnie ducks under a low point in the metal where the roof caves, running a hand along the vines as they go deeper still. More appear the longer that they travel, clinging to the walls and lying at their feet. He hadn’t sensed a trace of any Krang creatures since they’d stood outside. He doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or grateful.

Leon’s voice carries on endlessly as he trails behind him, always with the same accusing note, so Donnie doesn’t feel the least bit guilty for the past several minutes of silent treatment. Donnie offered to let him rest. He’s the only reason that he’s not. He wants to be a liar and cheat then he can take his punishment like a man.

Then again, if he’d been right about that creature…

Donnie rubs his arms for the tenth time. The last thing that he wants to deal with is anything else altering his body against his will.

Not to mention his poor, brilliant brain.

The rocks that patter in front of his feet pause before they resume noise from a distance, so Donnie crouches.

He flings an arm out when Leon tries to walk past, knocking his momentum back. His companion flails before falling on his butt, barely missing a breath of complaint, “-the one who designed it! So- so really, you did this! Who locks his phone for fourty-six hours! On purpose! Huh?! Who does that?!”

“It’s a security precaution.” He snaps as he glares in the direction of the increasingly pathetic whines. “I have important stuff on there that not just anyone can get their hands on.”

“But two days?!”

“I need the time to track it down and get it back.” He gets out his grapple. “Or blow it up.” He aims randomly. “Which ever comes first.”

“Stuff like what? Game scores?” He gasps, affronted. “You’re being unreasonably cruel over videogame scores?!”

“Like GPS locations that I’d rather the creeps’s trying to kill us didn’t get their hands on?” The grapple hits the ground. “Hmm. Okay, get your shell over here.”

“Why? So you can shove me again?”

“I didn’t shove you.” He mutters. “You were about to walk off a drop. You’re welcome.”

“You could have been nicer about it.” The misery in his voice shifts to mild curiosity. Now Donnie’s forced to wonder if he was intentionally being that annoying. “How deep is it?”

“Not too far.” The grapple clicks into place. “But I wouldn’t recommend jumping in your condition.”

“So we turn back?”

“Of course not.” Donnie clicks on the phone light. Leon hisses and rolls away from it, crouching like some kind of feral creature. “I’m seeing where the vines lead. It’s the first source of life that I’ve seen. I’m going to find out how it’s thriving.”

“What if we don't?” Leon volunteers as he crawls over and peeks down the drop. “I don’t think these things like turtles.”

“It’s vegetation.” Donnie dismisses as he points the phone. There are more vines curled at the bottom, but they don’t look very threatening. “Oooh, spooky. Do you need a nightlight?”

He holds out the phone and Leon swipes it back. “Yeah, you joke about it now, but we’ll see who’s laughing when they slither into your skin and try to kill you.”

He smirks. "I thought you weren't scared?"

"I'm not!"

“Uh huh. You know, you sound exactly like my brother when he talks about cockroaches.” Donnie tugs on a vine. It doesn't react in the slightest. It also feels sturdy, so he follows it to the end, bracing his feet against the rock edge. “Look. See? They’re harmless.”

“I think you misspoke deadly. Dead-ly.”

“They haven’t hurt us yet.” Donnie teases, amused by the lost bravo. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Outside the cave.” Leon points the light. “Let’s go get it.”

Donnie raises an eye ridge and then jumps. Leon yelps and the light momentarily scatters above as Donnie hops his way down. Leon shouts after him, and then keeps shouting, but he’s happily ignored as Donnie makes contact with the ground. He rubs his aching shoulder, feet crushing something that crunches with each step.

Donnie crouches to run three fingers over the suddenly brittle texture, debating the nest of vines beneath his feet. He looks up as Leon slides down beside him, gripping the vine with one hand, and Donnie plucks the phone from his grasp.

“Oh, good. You conquered your fears. Congrats.”

“Well, when nothing tried to eat you…” Leon shrugs as Donnie examines the area and then shines the light upward.

The drop is too deep to not include some kind of way back up. Nothing looks broken or bent, so it must be intentional. The metal is completely smooth, difficult for hands or tentacles to climb up, and the tunnel behind them is too small for one of the Krang suits. Unless they have especially sticky secreting glandular hairs, but even then, it’s highly irregular to have this kind of pathway in a functioning-

“Hey, does this look weird to you?”

Leon squints up. Donnie levels him with a deadpan.

“Can’t just be me.” His companion insists. “This feel trap-y. Way trap-y. It’s like… in the air. You have to feel that.”

“It’s a mix of the dark and the silence.” He informs. “Your brain is trying to fill it by assuming there’s something else present and, right now, the adrenaline in your system is triggering a threat response.”

It’s simple science. Comforting. Reasonable.

Donnie points the light down the tunnel. There’s an opening too far to see. Anything could be there. Waiting. Lurking. “But… I think I’ll keep the light on. Just in case.”

Leon nods rapidly. “Good call.”

Neither of them move.

Leon bows, a hand outstretched. “Ladies first.”

“Cowards second.” Donnie returns easily, taking the first step. Leon scoffs and grumbles, but he follows with uneasy tracks.

“This battery is actually lasting longer than expected.” Donnie admits to keep the silence from descending. He’d much rather something jump out at him with noise than without it. He settles in his safe place: theories and facts. “The percentage hasn’t even changed. Even with the conserving, I’d have expected some decrease…”

“Oh, yeah, Donnie designed these special.” Leon steps a bit closer as he allows himself to get preoccupied by the phone. “Haven’t charged that bad boy in two days.”

“What?” He gawks and Leon smirks. “When you’re as chronically online as Donnie, he wouldn’t dare let Donnie brand engineering die before he gets at least three days of constant scrolling out of it.” Something in his voice changes. “He gave me his old one. Think his newest can go, like, a week or something without charging.”

“Wow.” Donnie breathes, super conscious of every movement as he lowers the phone instead of taking it apart like he really, really, really wants to. No one can understand his woes. “That’s… impressive.”

“That’s Don.”

Donnie looks at him, trying to place the emotion. His tone is mocking and his smirk is dry, but his shoulders have slumped low.

The wall of anger that he’s constructing cracks as his eyes soften.

He’s not the only turtle separated from his family. They’d both been abandoned here by people that they care about. At least Leon did what his team thought was best to save his New York. If they're too scared to risk using some 'key', if their new York really was overrun by this- body dominating Krang species... It must have been dire. The fate of the world and all that.

What's Donnie's excuse?

Sensei warned him. And he still ran after her without thinking.

Now his family has to face her alone.

He should have reached out to Leo.

He would have come up with a better plan.

Leon glances at him, bringing a hand to brush over his red marks. “Something on my face?”

“Blood and bruises.” Donnie looks ahead. “Nothing new.”

They exit the tunnel and enter a massive room, eyes widening in sync. Donnie keeps going as Leon gasps, “Vine central.”

Donnie couldn’t have put it better himself. They overtake every inch of the middle room, sparse near the sides, many converging on the entryway. There are pillars of them among the new nest. Like a firm stroke of paint, they all flow upwards in perfect lines, tangled into many different shapes at the very top.

“Pretty dead in here.” Leon quips as he comes to the same conclusion as Donnie’s starting to. Like the bottom of the drop, many of the vines have already begun decay, and others are in the obvious stages. If something was providing them with life, it’s not anymore.

Donnie pokes the ground. It no longer feels like metal, but it’s not dirt either. What exactly were these things growing in?

“The Krang creature could have been… Feeding? Off of these things?” Donnie guesses. “Or, at least it had lair in here. Must have used the vines to climb…”

He stands up, attention caught by a shadow on the side wall.

A massive, blocky shadow. Curious, he heads toward it.

“Doesn’t explain what this place is.” Leon’s voice is loud enough to echo over to Donnie’s position, blanketing the silence. “Other than creep-tastic.”

When Donnie glances in his direction, he’s standing in the shadows that the light is leaving behind, squinting at one of the vine structures. “I think these things need some pruning.”

“Let me know if you find a weed whacker.”

"All I got is a handy-dandy sword. Not sure if it'll cut it." He snickers. "Get it? Get it? Cut? Wait, no, I can do better-"

"Save yourself the embarrassment."

"Wouldn't be much of a point! Wits to sharp for you?"

"Yep. That won't get old fast."

"Bah! My puns are cutting-edge!"

He shakes his head and continues on. "Focus please?"

"I am so focused. I am- the most focused."

"Good. Then feel free to take a stab at it any day now."

"Don’t gotta tell me twi- HEY!"

Leon laughs and Donnie grins to himself. It fades into frustration as he watches the strange, blocky area become larger with every step.

Yeesh, that is a lot bigger up close.

He really doesn’t want to climb anything, so he searches along the wall for an opening. Leon has apparently taken up swinging his blade like an axe. Donnie can hear each time that it makes an impact on the trunk composed of vines. It doesn’t seem like the smartest move for someone with likely bruised ribs, but as long as it keeps him busy, Donnie’s not about to complain.

He almost trips on an area where the vines gain entrance to the box-like wall, and when he catches himself, he cringes when his hand comes away sticky. He pokes it, twice for good measure.

He flings a bit of the gross off before looking to Leon. “It looks like the vines are… Interconnected with some kind of biological mass.”

“Krang like fleshy ships.” Leon sounds out of breath. “Technodrome was a big mess of ew.” He shudders. “Especially the command station. Ditched that place quick. Was muy nasteh.”

The structure tilts. Leon scrambles back. “TIMBEEER!”

Donnie hurries over as it lands. Leon hugs his hilt. “Talk about tightly wound. Junior got this in one swipe.”

Donnie… Will ask later. He leans over curiously as Leon slices through the vines, watching the weaker ones snap open before it slides apart like a rotten peel, revealing… Nothing.

It sits empty.

“Got a dud.” Leon reports unhelpfully. “You do the next one. But I call dibs on timber. I am the timberer.”

“If I’m going to go through all the work, then I expect the reward.” Donnie drops the phone in his free hand, walking up to another one as his companion sputters his disagreements.

He sets a hand on his hip. "Light?"

Leon begrudgingly points the light upward. Donnie walks up to the intriguingly crafted trunk and checks to make sure the twisted vines are compact enough to hold his weight.

Then he starts climbing.

Leon gives him about a minute of peace.

Not surprising. All good things come to an end.

"Do I want to know?"

"Think smarter." Donnie hefts himself up. "Not harder."

"So... Is that a no...?"

"It... Is... A..." Donnie reaches the top. "Throw me your sword."

Donnie doesn't expect much from Leon, but he definitely thought that he'd pretend to aim. Instead, he does a little twirl and flings it.

For the second time that day, Donnie finds himself inches from a spinning blade. He can actually see his reflection with how close it lands, practically taking off his beak.

He looks down, furious. "LEON!"

"You said-"

"I DIDN'T MEAN TAKE OFF MY HEAD!"

"Your head's fiiiine."

With a low growl, Donnie steadies his other three limbs and then yanks the blade free. He goes for the thinner vines, stabbing the sword a few inches in and then dragging it down. They peel open easily and Donnie spots small objects at the bottom. He drops the blade and then shuffles closer to the opening. He reaches in.

And pulls out a bone.

A yelp escapes his throat. His pushes back in surprise, throwing it back in and upsetting his balance in the process. He hits his carapace, crushing vines as he lands. Leon doesn't move. "See, this is one of those times where I just know I'm going to regret asking." Donnie gets to his feet. He points over his shoulder. "Wanna skip to the part where we both agree to leave?"

"Good idea." Donnie grabs the blade. "I suddenly have a really bad feeling about this place."

"Yeah, no kidd-" The smirks freezes on Leon’s face.

Donnie pauses, the light aimed at his plastron. “What?”

His eyes are dots, locking on him. “I can’t move my legs.”

“Can’t move your…”

Leon shines the light downward. It reveals two-toed feet planted on the pile of vines, and the very not-dead vines pushing their way into the flesh around his ankle.

It seems like the appropriate time to scream.

He steps forward and a large vine shoots at him. He slashes at it fast, diving to his triggered screaming companion and slicing him free. He grabs his arm and tosses him to create distance from the pile, ducking as two vines shoot over his head.

He spins to separate them from their roots, hurrying away to watch them hit the ground. He stumbles into Leon. Hands lock around the top lip of his shell, peeking at the small vine tendrils slithering out from the not-dirt. His eyes dart to Donnie and then the exit.

"Any ideas?" Donnie demands. Leon turns frazzled. "Me?! You're the one-"

Donnie's brain glitches. "Are you not a leader?"

"Well, yeah, but-!" Donnie surges forward to meet the vines that want to try their luck. "GREAT! SO LEAD!"

He doesn't dare look back until Leon is grabbing his arm and dragging him the opposite direction of the exit.

"Where're we-!"

"I lead! You follow!"

Leon holds out his hand. Donnie bites back a retort and hands him his sword. The young, infuriating leader continues his sprint, bringing Donnie along with him. "Do I get to know the plan?!"

"Don't touch the vines!"

"THAT'S NOT A PLAN!"

Donnie tears his arm away, both for rebllion's sake and to obediantly flip over the connection between the strange mass and the vine nest. Leon carefully bounces around the vines on the ground as the nest grows thicker along this side of the room. The vines are still shuffling around each other like snakes, hiding amongst the dead ones.

It occurs to him that they're no longer attacking.

He looks down as he hops over an entwined pair that have latched onto the wall across from them. Of course. They're plants.

Creepy, haunted alien plants. Limited senses. Likely can't see or hear anything. But if someone steps on the lives ones...

They both slide to a stop near the tunnel. He meets the calculating gaze. “They don’t know where we are.”

“They will.” Leon looks down the vine pathway and then lowers the light, asking, "Ready partner?"

Donnie nods. "Let's make this quick."

Leons shakes out his arms. Donnie readies his stance.

Then they run for their lives.

“Leon.” Donnie keeps his eyes on the prize as he senses movement behind them. The brittle texture that signifies death crunches beneath his feet. “What, exactly, is your history with these things?”

Leon swallows. "Long story?"

"Abridged version now."

Leon pushes them both to the ground as vines launch overhead. "Nothing helpful! They were on Krang's ship! He used them to restrain me and my bros!"

They bound back to their feet. "And you didn't think that was something you should share with the class?!"

"I didn't think it mattered if he's not here!"

"It DOESN'T MATTER?!" Donnie shrieks as he ducks into the wall. Leon slashes the vine that comes between them. "EVERYTHING MATTERS! And NEXT TIME the guy with the permanent information should think, ‘oh, hey, maybe I should tell my fellow turtle why I think the den of evil vines is EVIL’?!”

"Maybe next Mr Mock Donatello should ask-!"

"MOCK DONATELLO?!"

They reach the dropping point as Donnie furiously whirls on him. Leon doesn't look back, more preoccupied with the vines that are launching off the walls, which, is annoyingly the more valid concern.

But they are so not done-!

Donnie goes for his belt.

He aims above them and shoots the grapple.

It doesn’t lock, falling to him. It's bound to happen at some point, but he doesn't know why it always has to be at the worst moments.

He spins towards Leon as he cries out. The vines have somehow managed to wrap themselves around his blade, holding tight even as it tries to cut into them. They yank at it and he loses his footing with a cry, frantically trying to regain it as they attempt to pull him through the tunnel. Donnie spots the ones that shoot for his legs.

Donnie gets three seconds to panic and two more to plan.

He grabs his throwing stars and tosses them at the vines attempting the hidden assault, abandoning his position to slip to his side. Leon looks at him as he grabs his arms and uses both their weight against them. The blade slices through, freeing his sword. Donnie lands on Leon's plastron, ignoring the pained cry.

The phone must be on the floor now because the area is lit up. He doesn’t waste time looking for it. He grabs the blade from his loose hold and shoves the grapple into his hands, flipping to his feet to swipe at the incoming enemy.

He uses one last second to look back. "MOVE!"

Leon is already on his knees, arm cupped around his chest and fingers locked over the phone case. Eyes wide, he sprints to his feet at the command.

Donnie turns to face the threat as the grapple fires and the vines surge for him. He dodges the first assault and then rushes forward to cut off their reach, hating how unsteady the blade is in bo-adapted hands. He really should have taken the switching weapons lessons more seriously-

"I did it! Hey, I- no!"

Donnie whirls.

Leon's reaches out.

He feels them latch on.

His heart skips. The hilt flies from his hands.

Donnie hits his carapace with a choked cry as the vine closes around his neck to drag him down. He manages to grab a throwing star from his belt, but the vines snagged his wrist too, throwing it down to the ground. He hears the star swirls against the floor.

The panic stalls his racing heart, and that’s all the leverage they need to wrap around his torso. His shoulder burns as his free hand claws at the vine around his throat, suddenly getting a weak inhale in when it comes loose. In the next moment, it’s locking against his chin and his carapace scrapes the ground.

“NO!”

Horrfied eyes lock.

Everything goes black.

Not because he goes unconscious, which in retrospect would be a serious blessing, but because the vines have encased his body and have taken it upon themselves to pull him back through the tunnel.

His head rams something. His shell skids. Air rushes past his body.

He thrashes and squirms and bucks- and suddenly, he stops.

Nothing beneath his feet, his carapace, or his head. He manages to tear at the vines around one leg and kick out. Nothing.

How is there nothing?!

His arms are locked down at his side as the vines regain their hold around his lower limbs. A frantic sound escapes his throat when he can feel the pressure against his scales, shuddering as they slither up his plastron and press into his bridge. They fail to find a purchase against his shell, but they succeed with skin.

His muscles tense as he endures the pricks when the vines slip in and move beneath flesh.

A subtle thud from the dark. His fingers flex and his muscles tense as he tries to continue the struggle, but his attention is drawn to the brief flicker of light. A vine finds its way into the back of his neck and he hisses when it shoves further down.

The rest decide to follow its lead.

They all thrust at once and hot fire burns across his skin when they keep pushing. He screams. The vines don't stop.

His heart pulsates and the room flickers with light.

He blinks, whoozy, as the cage that the vines are forming comes into view. The room goes dark. He can feel every weak tremor, every breathless pant, every twitch of the mass beneath his skin.

A steady thud reverberates. His body is on fire.

His head lolls against his chest. The roof flickers.

A steady thud and then light.

Donnie's vision goes dark.

Previous Current Next

[quilly72]

Yana rushed to the door as she heard the doorbell ring. "My package!"she squeezed as she saw a pristine white box sitting on the porch ready to be opened. She dragged it inside and slammed the door shut.

Yana turn to tear into the box letting styrofoam and paper fly out as she peered inside. By pure happenstance Yana had been chosen to try out a companies new growth ray. She hadn't gone looking for it but was more than willing to be a paid test subject after the unnamed company reached out.

Yana looked at it's design. Slim, shiny white and curvy. It had no labels on it or any markings. It looked like a children's raygun more than anything else. She gingerly picked it up as she caressed it eyeing it greedily. She watched as the instructions fell to the ground pushing them to the side of the room as it landed on the floor. " Don't need that" she exclaimed as she hit the power button.

The machine whirred to life as it sputtered and glowed. She asked as it seemed started flashing lights and as one button emerged from the back. She clicked pressing it down as it glowed. She aimed the gun as she giggled. "What should I try this on first"

She closed one eye mockingly aiming the gun as she looked around her living room. She surveyed her tv, the table, the chairs. Eventually she landed squarely on the lamp sitting in her end table. Yana squeezed the trigger 3 times. the ray shook. It charged up growing brighter at the nozzle as it shot off 3 short bursts of radiating green energy towards the lamp.

The grin on yana's face vanished quickly however when the beams bounced off the lamp and around the room. She ducked as they bounced from object to object colliding and knocking over tables and chairs as they grew faster and faster. As Yana tried to claw her way out of the room she felt a sharp pain hit her in the back. She helped as it seemed I to her, her body lighting up as if it had burst into flames. She curled as another beam hit her squarely in the chest radiating it's energy out.the third and final beam eventually landed in her thighs as they finally found an organic target.

Yana whimpered as she stood up. Her body shook with the shivers as she finally came down from the heat spreading around her. Yana shakily stood up her legs trembling as she listened to her body groaning. Her bones and muscles churning against each other wrestling for space. Yana gasped as she felt a surge of growth hit her in her spine. She grew taller as her spine lurched upwards. The rest of her body stayed the same as her torso elongated putting her at 5'6". Yana stood wide eyed as her chest grew outward. Yana furiously ripped her crop top off as her boobs stretched her bra. She smirked as she saw her new e cups reveal themselves. "Maybe this will be fine."

Suddenly her legs lurched upward. She grew several inches as her body rested at 5'9". Yana stood wide eyed as she clutched her thighs. Her legs thickening and smashing against each other as her hip forcefully widened. Her butt compensating more than enough.

"I didn't really want to grow but I think I'm okay with this." She dropped the raygun as she saw the instructions laying on the ground."I think I should read that now." She rushed over, as she went to lean down she felt her stomach rumble. Yana felt her body tense up. She clutched her stomach as she radiated heat. Her skin glowed bright as she saw her vision tunnel.yana grunted as she broke a sweat and felt her body yearn for more room. "Well fuu.."

Yana bursted upwards. Her flannel pants ripped off her hips and thighs all at once as she upward. Her spine stretched upward as she grew an entire foot all at once. Yana balanced herself as she looked at her changing surroundings. She reached down to pick up the instructions as she grew again. She fumbled with the paper as her hands grew covering the info. She grew again to nearly 8 ft tall. Her head at the top of the doorframe. Her panties shredded off as her bra shot off across the room trampolined by her boobs.

She read the instructions looking for warnings or steps as she grew again. Her boobs covering the pamphlet as they blocked her vision. Her head bumped the ceiling as she raised the paper "come on come on." She muttered as she felt her body tense up again. "There has to be something that can help me. Her neck bent at the ceiling as her shoulder blades grazed the roof. She leaned forward as her boobs descended downwards searching for room

Her hips and booty counter balancing as she tried to keep her balance. Yana grimaced as she lurched upward. Her back denting the ceiling as she fell forward her fall cushioned by her boobs. As Yana fell forward her boobs enveloped the size ray as it cracked underneath her. Yana stared in horror as she rummaged underneath her finding the broken plastic strewn around. She felt her body light up with heat as she rubbed a mysterious powder off of her hands and chest.

Yana shook as her body reacted. "Don't" she whimpered as she surged taller.

Her body immediately filling the room as she crammed and bent to fit. "Help me" she screamed as she struggled for breath being constricted by her own body. Another spurt sending her upper half the the second floor. Her boobs immediately filling the room as her butt and legs demolished the first floor. Yana shook again as she grimaced. She whimpered as her head bent the roof up and out her skin being exposed to the cold winter air.

Spurt after spurt continued to hit her as her boobs and butt burst the house off of her. Her hips widening to cover the foundation her legs pushing and smashing her car in the driveway. Yana stood up as she grew again. Her feet half the size of her first floor as she stood to her unknown height. As she spurted larger and larger she looked to the horizon witnessing another woman a couple blocks down burst out of her house. Another house on the horizon bending and groaning as an arm shot off. Yana trembled as her body continued growing her feet now the size of a house as she looked at the neighbors underneath her dwarves by her giant body. Several other houses shattering to pieces as Yana realized she was merely one of possibly hundreds of giantesses as house after house succumbed to growing woman.

[shoebanfoo]

Her head looks like a duck's butt (good character design).

[nonbinarybrainstorm]

Hey broski if ur requests r open can u do a Holoform Rodimus and GN human reader (NSFW) Oneshot (w/ top Rodimus pls)

Spice spice spice

Additional content: public sex, in altmode sex, car fetish?

The sky is darkening, painted with sunset colors as they rest in the driver’s seat of Rodimus’ altmode, leaning against the door while he drives himself since no one can see them on the twisting mountain road he takes maybe a little too fast. He’s playing some old rock on his radio to fill the sleepy quiet of the summer afternoon, soothing them further into a state of rest. They don’t know when they fell asleep but when they blink awake to a soft touch, they see Rodimus has parked himself in a lot on a cliff that overlooks the shimmering sea. A hand brushing their cheek makes them jump and press themselves to the door to look at the unfamiliar man in the seat next to him.

The man with fire-red hair chuckles at them, “Hey, it’s me…”

“Roddy?” they gasp and he grins cheekily.

“You know it. Do you like it? This is my holoform…” he pulls at the sports jacket he’s wearing, tugging it a bit off his shoulders which are a bit broad as his white t-shirt rides up a bit, showing off some midriff.

They can’t help but blush at the sight and look away, “Uh, yeah, you look…nice.”

Rodimus moves in and cups their cheek to get them to look at him, a heated glint in his eyes, “Just nice?” He moves in slowly, crowding around them as he plants a hand on the back of the driver’s seat, “I was hoping for a bit… more.”

A soft gasp escapes their lips, parting them in anticipation, “I… I guess it is a bit more than just nice…”

Smirking, Rodimus ducks in and kisses them, shocking them with how real it feels, his holoform lips feeling warm and soft. It’s so real that it’s almost uncanny as they melt into the kiss, letting him taste them. Reaching up, they slide their hands over his chest and to the back of his neck, sighing at the feeling of his baby hairs at the nape of his neck tickling their fingers as they move them to comb through his hair. The seat suddenly shifts, laying back so they’re parallel to the ground with Rodimus propped over them, looking down at them with a heated gaze that ignites a small fire in their chest.

“Wh…” They swallow nervously but can’t help but press their thighs together with the excitement building between their legs, “Aren’t we… aren’t we inside your body technically?”

Rodimus chuckles and kisses their cheek, “Well, it’s my body. I can do whatever I like in it…”

They gasp as he kisses their neck, “I… that’s true…”

“Just relax,” Rodimus nips their jaw, earning a soft squeak, “Besides, I plan on being inside you, so isn’t it just more fair this way?”

They huff as they relax under him, “You’re so weird.”

Rodimus laughs softly at their words, sliding his hands under their shirt while he kisses and nips at their neck only breaking when they pull his jacket off, desperate to touch him. He sits up enough to pull off his T-shirt, taking their shirt off eagerly as well so he can plant kisses all over their chest and stomach while his hands tug at the waistband of their pants. They bite their lip at the sight of the bulge building in Rodimus’ jeans and they don’t even try to resist the urge to rub him through his pants, sucking in a breath when Rodimus groans low against their skin appreciatively. Rodimus drags their pants down to their ankles, suddenly impatient, and slips his hand between their legs to spread them a bit with his hand on their ass. He kisses them again while squeezing their butt appreciatively, moaning into their mouth, and his dick twitches against their hand that’s still rubbing him firmly.

“You’re so soft,” Rodimus murmurs against their lips, grunting when they press harder against his cock.

He pulls back up much to their disappointment that’s quickly quelled at the sight of him undoing his pants to reveal the dick he designed himself, he must have and they blush at the possibility that maybe he had designed it with them in mind. It did look a bit… familiar. Shuffling through his glove box, he pulls out a small bottle to waggle it triumphantly with a smirk to their mild mortification as they realize it’s lube.

“You planned this all out, huh?” they grip his seat nervously.

He moves back over them, kissing their cheek, “I just wanted to show you a good time… you still okay?”

They nod and spread their legs as best as they can for him, suddenly very aware that the nylon pressed against their bear skin and the man above them are both Rodimus, enveloping them completely in him. Rodimus clicks the spout open and squeezes a generous amount out onto his fingers, coating two of them in the slick substance with his eyes trained on their flushed skin, taking in the sight of them. He’s on them again, nipping and licking at their shoulders as he slides his fingers between their pillowy cheeks, sliding one finger into their warm hole just a bit to rub the tense muscle there. The pressure makes them grunt, gripping his shoulders as they try to relax for him, curls of heat shooting through them with Rodimus’ teeth digging into their skin.

He slowly thrusts his finger into them while keeping them spread with his other hand, clearly lost in the feeling of them as he licks and sucks their shoulder, neck, and chest hungrily. They hold onto him, running their hands over his back, struggling to hold back their moans with him rubbing inside them, pressing deeper and deeper as it feels better the more relaxed they become, a bloom of heat forming with every stroke of his finger. When he slips in a second finger, they feel more than just good, they feel full.

“Ah, Rodimus…” they moan low with their nails digging into his back as their legs twitch every time he hits a sweet spot.

They can feel the shiver that goes through him when they moan his name and gasp when he pulls his fingers out of them, leaving them painfully empty and in desperate need of his touch. He grabs them and flips them easily onto their stomach, pressing them down into the seat until they smell their sweat mixed with the scent of his seat that’s artificial yet so alive. Spreading their ass cheeks apart, he sinks his fingers into the soft flesh, making them shiver as cold air washes over their hot, little hole. They jolt and gasp when they feel the tip of his cock press against their hole made slick with lube, groaning low as he starts to push into them. Hugging themself to his seat, their fingers dig into the cushioning while they’re slowly driven to madness as Rodimus pushes deeper into them. They arch their back to get him to sink in as much as he can, grinding up against him thoughtlessly.

“You humans are all so cute and soft…” Rodimus groans, now holding them down by their shoulders, “I should have done this ages ago, you feel so good…”

They suck in a breath as he starts to move, rocking his hips to thrust shallowly into them. He moves faster and faster, feeling them adjust to him until he can freely thrust into them, his cock pulling out until just the tip is inside them before he slams back into them. Soft keens and little gasps are forced out of them as he fucks their ass, his hips smacking against them hard enough to push them into the seat with their cheeks jiggling with every smack. The little space is quickly filled with heavy pants, moans, and the sound of sweaty skin slapping together.

Rodimus bends down, biting into their shoulder as he continues to take their ass roughly, gripping their hips so tight that they can’t move so they have no choice but to take the rough pounding of Rodimus’ cock. They moan helplessly under them, clawing at his seat with their skin pressed against the now sweaty fabric, suddenly tensing when Rodimus practically growls against their ear. Their eyes roll up when the pleasure becomes too much and their whole body spasms under Rodimus who doesn’t let up his brutal pace, forcing his cock into them over and over. With one, last thrust, he sinks deep into their hole and they shudder and cry out as they spill into them, flooding them with heat and growling against their shoulder.

Slowly, they both come down, leaving them limp on the driver’s seat as Rodimus pulls out to look down at his handiwork, rubbing their butt almost lovingly. They breathe deeply, trying desperately to cool down while they lay there, their brain completely fried, and shiver when the heat inside them suddenly dissipates. Rodimus kisses over their shoulder blades to try to help soothe them with his hand rubbing gentle circles over their hips.

“You okay?”

They can only manage an affirmative grunt which makes him chuckle as he pulls them up to lay back against him where they nuzzle under his jaw.

“My cute little human,” he sighs happily and kisses their cheek.

They look down at the seat and blush, seeing that it’s now a complete mess. Rodimus tracks their line of sight and then smirks, hugging them tighter.

“Looks like it was good for you after all,” Rodimus chuckles softly, cuddling them without a care in the world.

“S-sorry…” they rasp out, shocked at how used their throat feels.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Let’s get you cleaned up first and then…” Rodimus falters and blushes, glancing away.

They swallow and cover his hands with theirs, “And then… I can clean you up…”

Rodimus presses his forehead on their shoulder, his breath brushing against their skin, “I don’t deserve you…”

[diogxnxs]

Is the fabulous butt a common trait of the McDuck - Duck family?

The prominence of the gluteal muscles are a product of both genetics and lifestyle. I can safely say that this is a blessed trait from both of Donald's family trees that have coalesced into the perfect butt in a rather active Donald Duck. So, I would have to say yes. But Donald's butt takes a special place here even within his own family because it's his "Mickey Mouse Ears" because of its prominence in merchandise. No, not even his hat. It's his butt. As seen here:

Official Donald Duck food design from Disney Cafes, especially in Japan.

They even poke fun of this prominent feature in Donald Duck Visits Japan. Where it seems like his butt just increases in size in every panel.

Donald's butt is cute and iconic and has been so since his very first incarnation in The Wise Little Hen.

[homo-sasuke]

Sasuke’s hair eats idc what anyone says about a “duck butt” his silhouette is iconic immediately recognizable and that is the key to a good character design. Plus he just looks cool asl and so so so pretty

[adobe-outdesign]

Would you be able to review the Magmar line, please?

Magby is a cute little thing. What kind of thing is impossible to say, as it's really one of those Pokemon that are just monsters with no real-world inspiration, but it works well as a pre-evo and is really the best out of the three in terms of overall design.

Visually, it looks like it goes with the rest of the line, but is still plenty distinct enough on its own instead of just looking like a smaller Magmar. I like how the weird lumpy head becomes less lumpy as it evolves, and how the underbelly marking does the opposite and becomes more complex. The noot-noot snoot and the perpetually worried expression are also charming.

My sole nitpick is that the shape of the underbelly marking is a bit weird with how angular it is—something more rounded or flame-like would've been better. Everything else is pretty enjoyable.

Magmar, much like its pre-evo, is an ambiguous lava monster with no specific inspiration, and I'm always a big fan of those. And there are a lot of things about Magmar I like, such as the duck beak and flame markings, which are mimicked by the flames on its head.

However, there are also a lot of things I don't like. I always felt like the egg-shaped body was too ill-defined, especially with the legs being completely separate (compare to Magby up there, which has a more organic body shape). The ruffled shapes on the hands are interesting, but they feel out of place when they're not used elsewhere in the design—they could've been on the tail or something for balance. The back spikes also feel very extranous. It's got the right idea overall, but those elements hold it back a bit.

Also, it has a butt head. I always saw it more as brows so it never bothered me, but I need to point it out or else someone else will.

And Magmortar is... okay. I like some parts of it more than Magmar but there's also parts of it I like a lot less. The canon theme with the arms is a good way to work off of Magmar's arm ruffles, and they've been simplified so they no longer look as out of place. It also no longer has a butt for a head, always a plus, and I really like the menacing expression.

However, it still has a few of the same problems that Magmar does, such as the egg-shaped body, which is now even more noticeable because the arms sit higher up on the torso. Same goes for the spikes, which are even more unnecessary here.

It also adds a few problems, such as shortening the beak and changing the color; before it had an interesting duck-like look, whereas now it just kind of looks like it has weird lips. The flames also look very plastic-y.

I also really dislike the random addition of pink into the design. Maybe they were trying to call back to Magby, but it's so low-contrast and similar to the red that it adds nothing yet somehow makes the palette more complex. All the pink areas could've been yellow and nothing would have been lost (the arms could've been red, if that change resulted in too much yellow). Like I said, I like the general idea here and the overall vibe, but the execution just doesn't quite do it for me.

Overall, a refreshingly abstract line of creatures with some interesting albeit sometimes questionable designs. Magby's the best of the bunch, but all three at least work together surprisingly coherently considering they were all designed for different gens.

[amazingmsme]

Hard of Hearing

AN: MERRY CHRISTMAS! I know it’s not Christmas anymore (for me at least) but just barely! But this is my third Christmas fic, & I’ve been so damn busy it’s a miracle I even had any time to write this! But I’ve had an urge to write a fic for It’s A Wonderful Life ever since watching it in film history over a year ago! This movie is so underrated probably because it’s in black & white but George Bailey is a fucking cutie & I need to see that man get wrecked by the love of his life! I WILL spread my agenda to anyone & everyone willing to listen! (read)

George Bailey was many things. A father, a husband, a son, a brother, and he was also an unnamed hero of their small town. A simple man who poured his heart into the world around him, and expected nothing in return. He was loving and attentive to those around them, a good natured man who brought more joy than he knew. A half deaf man who just so happened to be a prankster at heart.

"Oh George?"

Now, George heard Mary call him from the other room loud and clear, but she could get so cute when she was put out with him. She called him again, waiting for an answer that didn't come. She yelled a third time, and there was that fire that he loved to see so much. "George Bailey!"

"I'm right here, you don't gotta yell," he said from the doorway, holding back a smug grin. Mary gave an exasperated smile.

"Well you weren't answering me!"

"Gee, I'm sorry Mary, I didn't hear ya," he lied easily, only feeling slightly guilty. Mary's expression softened as she walked over to him, handing him the Christmas tree topper.

"I just need help putting this on the tree," she said, turning back to the box of ornaments and grabbing a crystal snowflake to hang on a branch.

"Oh, well why didn't you just say so?" he asked, making her roll her eyes fondly. He stretched as much as he could to place the angel on top of the tree.

"Mm, a little to the left," she directed, standing on the other side of the room to get a better view. George smirked to himself before looking at her over his shoulder.

"What about the lights?

"No, it needs to go to the left," she repeated, slightly louder. George stepped back, looking the tree up and down.

"I don't know Mary, they look like they're working to me," he drawled, knowing damn well that's not what she was saying.

"No, the angel!" she reiterated, trying to hold back her laughter at her husband's expense. If only she knew who the butt of the joke really was.

"Well what about it?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips and taking a step back to admire the tree. He started at the bottom, scanning from trunk to the tippy top, where the angel sat, leaning just a little too far to the right. "Ah, it's just a little crooked! You shoulda told me, I'd fix it right up," he playfully chastised, trotting over to straighten the tree topper.

Mary watched her husband with a skeptical eye, starting to catch on to his scheme. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, a fond smile on her face. George completed his designated task, almost walking right past Mary without a second thought.

"George!" The almost aghast tone in her voice made him stop dead in his tracks.

"What? Don't tell me I ruined the tree," he teased, looking at it again just to make sure. She shook her head with a chuckle, smacking him on the arm lightly.

"Were you really going to walk by without giving me a kiss?" she asked, cocking her head sweetly. She looked up at him with those warm brown eyes that made him melt, batting her long lashes. George flushed, ducking his head down and shoved his hands in his pocket. He bit his cheek to keep from grinning, but a sly smirk still found its way on his face.

"Now why would I go and do a thing like that for?" he asked, barking out a laugh at the indignant look she gave him.

"Because I'm standing under the mistletoe!" she explained, exasperated. He took a step closer, cupping his ear and scrunched his face in confusion.

"Huh? You stubbed your toe?" he asked, and the absurdity of the question caused Mary to burst into giggles. "You want me to kiss it better, is that it?" She shook her head, laughing too hard to answer.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" she asked, humor and mischief sparkling in her eyes.

"Am I what?" he asked, not bothering to hide his smug grin.

"George Bailey, you're horrible!"

"I'm sorry, I'm what?" he asked, leaning in and cupping his ear to "hear" better. She arched a brow, smirking at him.

"I know that's not your bad ear," she said, matter of factly.

"Do you now?" he asked, taking a step closer.

"Mhm." She closed the distance, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull him closer.

"Say, what else do you know?"

"Oh you'd be surprised," she mused.

"Try me," he said, finally leaning in for his mistletoe kiss. But Mary wasn't about to reward bad behavior. She waited until their lips barely brushed before she dug her hands in his sides, scribbling up and down.

He yelped, doubling over in shocked laughter. "Mahahary! Whahahat are you dohohoing?"

"Oh I'm just showing you what all I know, just like you said!" she explained, as if it were obvious. "And I just so happen to know aaaall your tickle spots!" she cooed, relishing in the way his cheeks blushed bright red.

"Nohoho don't!" he cried, leaning against the doorframe for support. Mary started squeezing his hips, and he positively screamed.

"Aw but why not? You thought it was funny to mess with me, I'm just giving you something to laugh about!" she reasoned, voice as sweet as honey.

"Ihihi'm sohohorry!" he apologized, knees buckling as he sank to the floor. Mary followed him all the way to the ground, drilling her thumbs in his hip dips. She laughed along with him as she continued taking him apart with her fingers.

"I don't know, are you reeeaaally sorry?" she asked in a singsong voice. George was laughing too hard to answer, nodding frantically as he stuttered out, "Y-yes! Sohoho sohohorry!"

"Hm... Alright, I believe you," she said, only she didn't stop.

"M-Mahahary! You're still t-tickling mehehe!" he whined, rolling around on the dusty ground. She really needed to sweep, Mary thought to herself.

"Oh, I never said I'd stop!" she clarified, tossing her head back with a joyous, yet somehow maniacal cackle.

"Nooohohohoooo!"

"Oh hush, you know you deserve this."

George balked, staring at her indignantly as he tried to come up with a retort. "Well- maybe not all of it!" he exclaimed, bursting into laughter once more when Mary shot her hands up to scribble in his underarms.

"Agree to disagree," she conceded, moving down to pinch and pluck at each rib. He snorted between his giggles, swatting at her weakly with one hand as he hid his face with the other.

"George Bailey, you better not hide that smile from me if you know what's good for you!" she threatened, wiggling her fingers a few inches above his stomach. On reflex, his hands shot down to grab her wrists, holding them at bay.

"Call me a glutton for punishment," he challenged with that signature cocky grin that made her fall for him in the first place. Her jaw dropped to the floor as she scoffed, though in actuality she couldn't be more delighted.

"Oh you are going to get it!" she cried, wrestling her arms free from his grasp. He was already laughing before she laid a finger on him.

"Wahahahait wait I'm sorrYYYY!"

"Oh now you are," she teased, not stopping her favorite kind of torture just yet. His long legs scrambled for purchase against the wood floor, catching her attention.

"And how could I forget about these," she mused aloud, spreading her nails over his kneecaps. He shrieked, tucking his legs in close to his chest for protection, though it offered none. Not that he really minded all that much. But he was a pretty good actor, if he did say so himself.

She mercilessly squeezed his knees, leaving him a wheezy, cackling heap on the floor. She wasn't too cruel however, and her hands slowed to a stop.

George laid on the ground in a breathless daze, clothes dirty and wrinkled, and hair thoroughly tussled, all while sporting a large, genuine smile.

"So," he started, shifting into a sitting position, "Are uh, are we still under the mistletoe?"

Mary rolled her eyes at her husband's antics for maybe the millionth time before grabbing him by the shirt collar, pulling him in for a passionate kiss under the mistletoe.

George Bailey may not have gotten the life he had hoped or dreamed for, but what he got in return was more than any wish could ever grant.

[fragileizywriting]

you're, like, seventeen and you are the world's most awkwardest alpha. you are too tall, too broad-shouldered, pack quite a lot of muscle naturally even though you don't work out, and every single morning you're praying that you won't just one day smack your forehead into the top of the doorframe to your room. you've removed your braces a few years ago, but still hide your teeth because you find your fangs to be too big for your mouth. when you were younger and you got into fights with other kids at school, one of them punched you on the cheek so hard, your fangs actually sank into your own lip. you actually went completely through it, poking out just underneath. you have scars there. snake bites. how ironic.

you have a friend. best friend. barely-ever-apart friend who is an omega. she's much smaller than you, but her personality is louder than you are taller. she's a hard worker. a take-advantage-er. every time she sees you, she takes advantage of your soft, buttery heart and begs to watch documentaries. it's her favorite thing. you find yourself researching all kind of facts about penguins, because she finds them so funny looking, and you like that. she says they remind her of you, especially when they fall and get back up, because they look so humiliated after something so simple just happened.

you are seventeen and you think about her a lot.

every single time the two of you are together, the two of you are together. the two of you are playing video games, catching up on homework, babysitting some cousin from either side of your family or doing errands— she's running across paris like a cat chasing her own tail, trying to keep up with her busy family; you're following her because you like her company and you worry when she's all by herself running around the city and you know no one will mess with her since you look like a brute— or even at her work, you help out too. you look awful in a hair net. but so does she. you're not so self conscious about yourself looking stupid with your hair pulled up when she also looks like an egg.

a pretty egg.

but it's summer time. most of the times you see her during summer vacation is when she's at the cash register, bored and doodling away at a sketchbook with ideas that she confesses she'll never be able to act on because of how her parents need her to work at the bakery to keep it afloat. she sits on a barstool in front of the register, next to the vitrines that have pretty confectionaries that need to be refrigerated. she's taking advantage of the cold that seeps through the cracks of the glass door. when you show up— ducking through the door, a habit you can't stop now— you can see whisps of black hair curling around her temples. her bangs are flat. humidity sticks to her white skin like dew. in your attempt to work your mouth again— desperately trying to remember how your tongue is supposed to move in order to speak— she's already rolling her eyes, hopping off the stool and telling you that she'll make you that one green drink that you really like. the spinach one. she has a baggy of it close by, near the blender as if she's been expecting you. she always does.

you don't expect her to bend down, though.

you're in shock— your tongue isn't working, neither is your mouth, but your eyes definitely work. you can't stop looking at her shorts. pretty pink shorts, jeans, high-waisted because that gives her enough space to embroider little silly designs on the pockets and make them stand out. she'd stitched green flowers on the lip of every pocket, dotted by dark pink flowers. you'd say the name of the flower if you could remember, but it's gone to you— you're most focused on the shape of her butt, anyway. strong thighs and calves glisten with that damp sweat, you're still at a loss for words when she says something about how she put some bananas in the cupboard she's reaching for. her smile is blinding when she's finally done making you that smoothie. she refuses to take a sip. she hates spinach. that's alright; you seem to be very thirsty, anyway. you swallow all of it down before she can even tell you that she snuck in some oatmilk in there instead of regular. you're not a vegan— you eat eggs, you drink milk, you're okay with butter— but the fact that she's trying to get the smoothie to not taste like hell to you is so touching.

you're seventeen when you get back home, hide in your room, and you think about the entire interaction. about how when she gave you the smoothie cup, your hand just dwarfed her little fingers. you think about those hands. those fingers. how they couldn't get around the cup but yours could just-almost meet. you think about how she gives a big smile, proud of herself for making you something that you like drinking. it's the smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes, and you can see it— almost briefly, like a dream— what those smile lines will look like in a few decades, still looking at you, still twinkling with endearment towards you.

you're thinking about that one time she took a sip of your straw, just when you told her to give it a sip. just one go. spinach isn't that bad when there's something sweet involved. you remember her lips around the straw. how you hadn't thought it through. how you'd watch her grimace— not because she was sharing a straw with you, but because she didn't like the taste. an indirect kiss. you'd indirectly kissed her. her mouth was around the straw. a perfect 'O'.

you're popping a knot before you can even stop yourself.