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the-californicationist · 6 months

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The Window (Ch. 03)

Ch. 01 // Ch. 02 // Ch. 03 --- AO3

TW: breeding kink, reverse harem

You were sweating buckets in this brush cover, waiting for the enemy to pop their head over the fence. Beads of salty perspiration ran down your face in thin rivulets, threatening your eyes and soaking into your keffiyeh.

“You alright, little bird?” Price whispered down to you breathlessly, passing you his canteen.

You nodded, drinking from the plastic container, slaking your thirst. You shouldn’t have been having such a hard time with the Urzikstani heat, but you were. It didn’t help that you’d gotten sick yesterday off of a bad MRE. You were just ready for this mission to be over with.

“I didn’t hurt you last night, did I, Spar?” Ghost asked, checking his sights again, not taking his eyes off of the target.

“No,” you shook your head, “I’m alright.”

Ghost’s comment made your memory of your night together rush back, bombarding you with ghosts of your mens’ tantric sensations all over again.

Price had read another book about fertility, some ancient text from a few centuries ago, translated into English. And he’d been convinced that tantra was the way to go.

“Slow down, Simon. Keep your breathing up, yeah just like that. From your belly. Tha’s a good lad,” the captain coached.

John’s setup was very specific. All of their bodies were sandwiched around you as you lay with your back on Price’s chest, propped up into a lounging position, and Soap and Gaz were glued to your sides, each worshiping a breast at their commander’s instruction.

Soap’s hand was glued to your belly, just above your mons, pressing down gently, squeezing you. Gaz’s hand was on your midsection, hopefully covering the right chakra, and Price’s hands were on your chest and forehead, holding your eyes up, staring into Simon’s struggling face. Meanwhile, Ghost was sheathed deep inside of you, rotating his hips without fully removing his cock, churning himself inside of you like a big, burly engine, breathing like he was running a marathon.

You, too, were breathing. In when he breathed in, out when he breathed out. All of you were rubbing and massaging and inhaling and exhaling. It was overwhelming. You’d never been so wet in your life. You were so soft and pliant inside of your core that you could feel every micro movement that Simon performed. If he had actually been pounding into you like he normally did, you would have been a screaming, crying mess.

“Alright, little bird. Don’t forget your exercises,” Price reminded you, kissing your neck. You could feel John’s drooling cock as it lolled against your lower back, twitching as he watched his lieutenant work you into a froth.

You did as you were told, completing the ritual by squeezing your smooth, internal muscles around Ghost’s impossibly fat dick on every down breath.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Ghost grunted through his teeth, baring them like a wounded wolf, “I can’t…”

You raised your hands to cup his cheeks, feeling the jagged scar that cut across his mouth, and you guided his lips to yours, kissing him as gently as you could, barely letting your tongue dart out to taste him.

Between your throbbing pussy and his soft kisses, that was all it took to push you both over the edge. He came in hot, thick bursts, more than you’d ever felt from him, and he ground his hips into yours almost menacingly.

“Alright,” Price kissed your cheek, his face so close to Simon’s it made your head spin, “You ready?”

You didn’t respond. You just felt your legs being spread apart by six strong hands. Then, each of Price’s men began to finger you, slowly pressing their longest digits into your come-filled hole. They began to gently — ever so gently — rub Ghost’s thick cream into you, as deep as it would go, stretching you and playing in you in a life-altering way, bringing you beyond the point of orgasm and into some sort of other-worldly bliss.

For the cherry on top, your captain began to swipe long, wet circles over your clit. You were screaming so loudly that he had to use his other hand to cover your mouth, shushing you but not stopping his ministrations.

“Tha’s a good girl. Let it out, little bird.”

You passed out from the overstimulation before you could witness Price’s orchestrated tantra come to a close, and you wondered if you would survive round two.

Now, as you crouched behind these scratchy bushes, you weren’t sure how much more effective tantric sex would be at getting you pregnant, but it didn’t matter.

You already were.

You hadn’t told them yet. From everything you’d read, these first few weeks were a toss-up. Anything could happen, and the last thing you needed was to get everyone’s hopes up. You were also being deeply selfish. What would your relationship be like when you finally found out who the father was? You didn’t want to lose out on the incredible bond you’d built with them over these last three months.

Your eyes saw movement. Then, you heard the cracking and popping sound of bullets striking the side of the building you were huddled against. Suddenly, a loud bang rang out overhead and all was silent once more. Soap came on the radio and said,

“Target down.”

“I’m hit,” you whispered, staring down at your leg with disbelief. A bullet must have ricocheted and struck you in the calf. In and out. A clean wound.

“What?” Price said breathlessly, staring down at you as the blood began to stain your pants.

“Oh, fuck!” Gaz scrambled over to you and scooped you up, rushing you back inside. He put pressure on the wound and wrapped it up tight, opening up his comms, “Hey! We need med-evac right fucking now!”

Johnny came down from his crow’s nest and knelt in front of you, holding your hand,

“Those fuckin’ bastards,” he looked furious, “I wasnae fast enough.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head, feeling your blood pressure rise, “I think it was a stray shot.”

You heard Price’s low growl as he came over the radio, screaming at Laswell’s extraction team,

“Where’s my fuckin’ helo?”

You watched as Price and Ghost stripped the makeshift base back to its bones, stuffing all of your gear into the bags. Gaz and Soap were on you like glue, forcing you to elevate your leg and to drink water. Rubbing your forehead, trying to relieve the pain.

It was a long thirty minutes back to the base. Price held you in his arms all the way through the building, pushing everyone out of the way. You were flanked by the others, like one big, sweaty bodyguard squad, just for you.

The medics took you from Price, ushering your team out of the infirmary, fighting their protests to stay with you.

“It’s a GSW to the leg, captain. I think she’ll live,” the doctor rolled his eyes and shut the door.

After that, the only thing you could remember was coming around, still groggy from the anesthetic, listening to the doctor’s voice just outside the room, muffled and murky,

“...no complications. Should heal up in a few weeks. The baby’s lifesigns are all norm—”

“Baby?!”

The door to the infirmary shuddered like a bomb went off, and all four men poured into the room, still dressed in their gear from your mission. They hadn’t even gone back to their quarters, worried sick, pacing the hallway. Now, here they were, wide-eyed and staring at you for some explanation.

There was a long pause as you tried to figure out what to say. But then, Soap said it for you, a hint of hurt in his voice,

“You knew.”

It wasn’t a question, so you didn’t answer him. You simply put your hands over your belly, protectively, stammering an excuse,

“I didn’t — You shouldn’t get your hopes up. It’s too soon.”

They all spoke at once, an eruption of emotion in the tiny room,

“...should’ve told us at once! We…”

“...you felt you had to hide it…”

“...could’ve been killed on this mission! How could…”

The doctor came back inside, huffing at the scene,

“What the fuck is this? Mamma Mia? Get the hell out! She needs rest. Get! That’s an order, Captain.”

Price and his men were silent, sorely cowed by the doctor’s orders. Soap came to your side, kissing your forehead,

“See you soon, bonnie.”

Ghost gave you a soft smile and followed him out. Gaz brushed the hair out of your face and put his hand over yours as they lay across your belly, waiting for flutters and kicks that weren’t there. His full lips found yours and he left you wordlessly.

John was the last to leave. He looked like he was at war with himself, fighting over what to say and how to say it. His boonie hat was twisted in his hands, rolled in his palms, crushed by his immense strength. He didn’t kiss you. He didn’t even say goodbye. But, those bright blue eyes bored into yours, telling you everything you needed to know.

You were released with a pair of crutches the following morning, and while you didn’t need them there, none of the boys showed up to help you like you thought they would. You made it all the way back to your quarters before you ran into Laswell.

“Hey, Sparrow. How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live. Where is the 141? Is there a training or something?”

“No,” Laswell knitted her brow, not wanting to share her news, “You’ve been… temporarily reassigned. They have redeployed on another mission. Three days in Aqtabi. I’m sure they’ll touch base when they get back.”

“Reassigned?” You couldn’t believe it. You knew Price was protective, but this was going too far, “I’m… He took me off the team?”

“It’s temporary. Just until…” You watched in disbelief as her eyes trailed down not to your wound but to your belly, “Well, anyway, congratulations, soldier.”

She gave you a soft smile and left you standing in the hallway, experiencing every emotion at once, and landing on anger. No, not anger. White-hot rage.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #captain john price #cod mwii #call of duty #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #mw2 141 #cod 141 #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

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fatkish · 6 months

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Aizawa x Autistic cat-quirk Reader 3/3 NSFW

Part 2:

Part 1:

(Art not mine again, I found it on Pinterest)

As you and Aizawa got further into your relationship eventually you moved into his apartment. Aizawa was more than happy to be able to come home to you and be able to spend his time with you without having to worry about meeting up or making time to go anywhere. Since you moved in with Aizawa there are things you did specifically to help accommodate your needs. Aizawa gave you full support and permission to do whatever you needed to make his home yours as well.

A few of the changes you made were installing various hide boxes that you placed around your’s and Shouta’s house/apartment, they have little cat beds inside and a curtain covering the entrance to them.

The boxes are actually color coded based on how you’re feeling and how one should interact with you.

Green means you’re feeling good and are happy to interact, yellow means you’re a little anxious but are up for snuggles, red means you’re overwhelmed and leave you alone.

Aizawa’s other cats liked the hide boxes so you made bigger ones and helped him create an exercise course for his cats to use that runs along the walls

There is also a small water fountain that you placed in Aizawa’s apartment for his cats to drink from, you replace the water every day and wipes it down to clean it

You’ve also put brushes on the sides of certain furniture, walls, and on the cat’s towers. These brushes help you as well as Aizawa’s cats with grooming and helps reduce the amount of hair on everything and the amount of hairballs. The brushes are easy to clean and remove hair from. The cats just have to rub themselves against it and it brushes their fur collecting any loose hair.

As you both began sleeping in the same house/apartment Aizawa has gotten to see a lot more of your unfiltered self.

Sometimes when you’re completely in the Autistic zone you’ll just lay on his chest and lick Aizawa’s stubble whenever he’s laying down. You’ve explained to him that sometimes you just have an unstoppable urge to lick him and that you enjoy the feeling of his stubble. You apologized for it but he doesn’t mind it and lets you just follow your instincts.

While he was asleep you had played with his scarf and got tangled in it only for him to wake up to you yowling and angry, he laughed as he untangled you

Sometimes you’ll use cat behaviors to express yourself without words. One of the ways is when you make biscuits: you’ll do this whenever you’re happy in both cat and human form. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’re doing it.

another thing is Bunting: (y/n)’ll rub on Aizawa and leaves their scent on him every time he leaves the house (hound dog thought an intruder got inside UA and tracked the scent only to find Aizawa. He explained that a cat quirked friend rubbed their scent on him and that’s what inui is smelling)

Eventually Aizawa had to introduce you to his friends. At first when you met Hizashi you were spooked by his loud voice and even puffed up your fur with your back arched hissing at him.

After a bit you got used to his presence and carefully approached him. The moment he started scratching your head and giving you pets you folded and that’s when you both became friends.

After having known him for awhile you and Hizashi worked together to create a cat music playlist for his radio station. They created “cat radio: the 9 to 5 station for your feline friend” the station plays music for cats created by various artists and plays Monday to Saturday from 9:00 am to 5:00 pm.

You gave him a list of sounds that cats enjoy and he mixed them together and created a rhythm that sounded almost like human music.

Whenever they hang out he plays his newest pieces for them and they tell him what they think and if it could be improved.

Sometimes on Sundays, Hizashi and reader will accept calls to the studio or will open emails/letters from the listeners of the cat radio channel and reader will answer the listener’s questions about their cats and give advice as well as help the listeners understand their cats and somewhat translate for the cat(s) using their quirk’s ability to communicate with cats. Sometimes they have special guests such as veterinarians to answer questions and discuss cat things.

After some time (y/n) eventually met Nemuri as well. Nemuri immediately fell in love with (y/n) and quickly became their relationship coach. Whenever you’re having issues or need help with anything you call Nemuri for advice. She’s the one who helped Aizawa with the more intimate aspects of your relationship.

One time as a joke, Hizashi gave (y/n) catnip just to see what they’d do, only for them to get really horny and tackle Aizawa when he got home.

They kept biting him and eventually he had to lock them in a room to relieve their urges with the help of some ‘toys’ and needless to say, Aizawa was extremely exhausted afterwards but enjoyed tying his little kitten up.

However after that he never allowed catnip near them again unless (y/n) agreed beforehand due to how it makes them feel

When they get frisky in bed Aizawa will often bite the back of their neck where they have a human scruff, the skin there is just more loose and stretchy.

He will also make sounds like a seductive growl or rumbling when he bites it. This causes reader to become completely relaxed and intensifies their physical sensitivities as well as their 5 senses when they’re having sex.

You also experiences heats instead of periods(for you girls). (Boys experience heats too)

During this time you become especially sensitive and horny. Aizawa will mark and track the days leading to your heat so he can prepare for it.

He has bought various toys that he can control from his phone as well as a teddy bear that he recorded messages on for you to listen to his voice when he isn’t home and you need to relieve yourself

A lot of the messages are dirty talking telling you what he’s going to do to you when he gets home, praises and compliments or just him telling you how much he loves you

“Who’s my pretty little kitty? That feel good? I can’t wait to get home, you’d better prep yourself, because I’m not going give you any time to prepare.”

“Look at you, you’re so wet, such a naughty little kitten, making a mess.”

“You’re such a pretty little kitty, making such cute little noises, I just can’t wait to get home and sink my teeth into you and fuck you all night”

“Face down, ass in the air kitten, you know how I like it”

“Look at this cute little ass, maybe I should tie you up, make you beg for me as I spank you”

“I’m going to make you scream so loud you’re gonna give Hizashi a run for his money.”

“That’s it, good (girl, boy, kitty) go on and purr for me baby let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

“You’re so tight, I love you so much.”

When he does get home during their heats, he’s always happy to help them.

During your heats he’ll give you catnip on occasion as an aphrodisiac to help you when he’s especially tired since it makes you even more sensitive.

After your heats Aizawa will happily snuggle you and help you get around since you’re sore afterwards more often than not.

All in all, your relationship with Aizawa is purrfect, and he couldn’t ask for anything more.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #x autistic reader #aizawa smut #eraserhead #x neko reader #aizawa x y/n #Aizawa x reader smut

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allthecanadianpolitics · 1 month

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A recently released international report says Canada’s temporary foreign worker program is a “breeding ground” for contemporary slavery. The final report by a United Nations special rapporteur who visited Canada last year says a power imbalance prevents workers from exercising their rights. A worker’s status is dependent on a closed work permit that is specific to their employer. If an individual is fired, they may be deported from Canada. Workers are subject to a wide range of abuses and aren’t always aware of their rights, the report says. [...]

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland, @vague-humanoid

#cdnpoli #immigration #workers' rights #racism

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abbysbasement · 2 years

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ABBY ANDERSON NSFW ALPHABET

AN: I’m tiki!! this is the first fic I’ve posted to tumblr :D super self-indulgent, a bunch of different kinks. started writing this on my birthday and it beat my ass for 3 weeks. I hope you all like it!!! this was supposed to be strictly nsfw but then somehow it became fluff midway because she deserves it ;-; crazy how much love i have for the pretty girl who lives in my playstation 5

content tags (many of these are just ments or glossed over):

reader insert fic, discusses an established relationship between Abby and r | fingering (r! receiving) | cunnilingus (r! receiving) | strap-on sex (r!receiving) | strap-on blowjob, packing (all in ‘Toys’) | cum eating and swapping mentioned briefly | degradation and rough sex in ‘Risk’ and ‘Volume’ | mentions of mindbreak and dollification in ‘Dirty Secret’ | strength/helplessness kink | exercise kink/play(????) in ‘Stamina’ | praise, breeding, and primal sex kink | erotic asphyxiation (specifically headlocking) in ‘Quickie’ | public masturbation in ‘Jack Off’ | objectification (played with, in ‘Stamina’ | spit drinking, spitting and other bodily fluids in ‘Risk’ and ‘Toys’ | overstimulation in ‘Unfair’ | inner monologue alludes to fisting but it doesn’t actually happen ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ in ‘Quickie’ | assplay, anal stimulation if you blink in ‘Wild Card’ | mommy kink in ‘Volume,’ similar verbiage, different context in ‘Kink’

MEN AND MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY

word count: 5.4k (oof.)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

abby’s aftercare is the stuff of dreams. you’ll be laying on the bed, still restless and trembling from whatever scene was prior, feeling the dent in the bed smooth out as abby tugs on her boxers and stumbles topless, hair messy, and strap probably still wet (;-;) into the bathroom. you would hear the metal of the harness clatter down to the tile floor before she brings back a couple of damp, warm towels to wipe you down with. she’d massage your back and thighs and ass, making sure to work out all of the tension and soothe any aches, occasionally rubbing lotion on your skin and healing cream over any scratch marks she left behind, soothing any bruises she left behind by rubbing gentle circles over them with her knuckles and icing them if need be. kissing and sucking on any exposed skin she can get to, smoothing down your hair, and cleaning out your tears with a cloth. if it was any more intense play like degradation or humiliation, she would reassure you, looking you into your eyes, kissing you, and rubbing little lines into your cheek with the pads of her thick thumbs, telling you that no matter what, you’re her forever choice, that she loves you more than anything on this earth.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

abby spends a lot of time in the gym sculpting her perfect body, so naturally, her favourite body parts are her thighs and biceps. she’s extremely cocky about her physique, how it draws stares, elicits whispers, and wets panties. lords it over her partner and has a major strength/helplessness kink, pinning you down and watching how the muscles in your arms pulsate and flex but barely make a move. It’s mind-blowing how she can flip you over, legs in the air, back resting over one shoulder with a heavy palm over your tummy, and hammer into you with two thick, calloused fingers until your release is weeping down her wrists and forming a steady drip onto her chest. revels in how your might is only a fraction of hers. adores body worship, giving and receiving; the sensation of her partner running their tongue over the veins and scars on her body is enough to drive her insane with lust. abby is obsessed with her lover’s body, and if you have any insecurities, they’ll be constantly met with kisses, rubs, hickies, and bite marks. her favourite part of your body is your stomach; rubbing it when you're sick, using it as a pillow when you’re cuddling on the bed and watching an old movie, or using it for grip when she’s hitting it from the b-

nonsexually, she thinks that her nose is the best feature on her face, the easiest way to steal a rare giggle or smile from her is to give it a kiss, and she always rubs it against yours before you both fall asleep at night.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Abby doesn’t orgasm particularly fast; she needs a lot more love and attention to cum well and cum hard, so you have to take your time with her; gets really soft and emotional with how patient and gentle you are with her body. gets primarily visual arousal, and when she gets riled up, it's like a water fountain, with super wet stained panties, her lips all pretty and glistening, literally talking to you with squelches and squishy smacking noises ringing out of her juicy cunny. naturally, she gets super shy and red-faced about this. squirt drinker with no regrets, really into the idea of cum swapping, taking it upon herself to make out with you after eating your pussy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

abby’s dirty secret is that she has a huge dependence kink. she fantasizes about you to being happily stupid, mindbroken, eating out of her palm as she pampers you, creating her own personal plaything and dolly. being able to take what she wants when she wants it, or dressing you up how she wants to see you and having you wear it out, no matter how revealing or embarrassing the outfit is. wants you to see her as your saviour, taking her fingers, or her tongue, or her cock easily, never thinking big girl thoughts, never thinking period because it makes your head hurt, and when your head hurts, you get sad :(( feeding you, clothing you, bathing you, keeping you sheltered and happy with your simple needs in your simple, silly little head. abby is a natural protector and provider, so she does all of these things automatically anyways, but the added arousal of you needing her, of allowing her to own you in every way, being worshipped by you, and being your only safe space adds a level of eroticism that she’s shy to admit.

of course, you would always be content, always joyful to make your owner smile and feel good! happily offering up your holes or going in between her thighs like a good dolly should, because you’re grateful to her. she provides everything else, so why not?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

abby is not thoroughly experienced with long-term dynamics, she’s had a decent amount of casual sex, but this is a rare foray into actual *romance.* she’s ambitious and has tried different things, but she needs a push sometimes to be more vocal with communicating her sexual needs or telling you what she wants to be done to her in the bedroom. over time and with comfort and trust, she'll become more comfortable with setting boundaries, introducing kinks and other types of play, but she starts shy and closed off. on a purely physical side, became very attentive and skilled over a short amount of time, and is willing to try pretty much anything that isn’t a hard limit.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

abby is obsessed with any position she can show off her physical capabilities in while she’s fucking you. hoisting your legs over your head and pinning them to the bed in mating press while she slams to the hilt like a restless madwoman, each thrust grinding into that rough, almond-shaped sore deep in your wetness that sends shutdown instructions to your brain? check. across a desk, table, countertop, whatever, holding you in a mock-wheelbarrow position, one leg crooked through her arm while the other struggles for balance against your weight and the pattered bump of her fucking in and out of you as your hands scramble the table, fighting for a grip? check. using her superior planking skills to bear all of her weight onto you while she sloughs her cock in and out of you while you lay on your stomach, helpless but to take it, strong arms wrapped around your head as a hand plays in the hair at the crown of your skull? check.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

tries to portray a serious stoic dom during scenes, but sometimes she’ll fuck up a sexy line she’s been brainstorming and you’ll hear her try, (and fail) to stifle a snort and giggle. fights herself not to crack jokes at some of the silly shit the two of you say when you’re peaking, or your varying o-faces. during vanilla sex and when she’s not trying to put on a persona, abby can be very goofy in the bedroom.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

expect tufts of shiny, curly dirty blonde hair around the perimeter of her pussy. it might trail down her thighs, depending on how grown it is, and blends into a soft happy trail going up her stomach to her belly button. if it gets too tangly or hot outside, she might trim it a bit with scissors, but other than that, abby doesn’t really care or think about ‘keeping up’ with her pubic hair. word flies through the stadium that hairy pussy is her weakness, so if you keep yours bushier, don’t be surprised if abby has to compose herself before she digs in.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

emotional intimacy is crucial to her, and constantly being in a space where just for survival she has to compartmentalise her humanity wears down on her mentally. she’s confused when she wakes up in the morning after your first time together, and you’re cuddled into the space between her shoulder and her underarm; sunlight dappling your face as it leaks in through the holes in the privacy shield against the window. after you promised one another that there would be no feelings, no strings attached, just the two of you passing the time and having fun, she doesn’t wake up alone.

sometimes, you’re so sweet to her that she has to fight back tears, which she promptly plays off. you run the edge of your nails up and down her scalp while she’s still bathing in the afterglow of an orgasm, and she feels free. abby loves when you give her pet names, big girl, baby, goldie, prince charming, but when she slides her flat palms under your shirt, rubbing up and down your torso, and you breathe out just ‘abs,’ that's when she knows she’s found her way home.

in her eyes, there is no god, but she understands worship when she fucks into you slowly, gently, opening you up bit by bit, her whispers almost inaudible in the crook of your neck as she cradles you in her hands like she’s trying to capture a moment in time; she understood what it meant to be sanctified when you kiss for a long time, hands exploring one another, all of her hard on all of your soft, and don’t end up fucking. for years she’s felt like a tool for other people to use, so it’s hard for her to verbalise her needs in fear of being shut down, but somehow, you just… know. she lets her guard down for you, gets too pliant and lazy and comfortable in a way that she’s still learning to be okay with. she’s still working on emotional availability and being open with herself and others, but you remind her that she exists, and abby is forever grateful for that.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

abby isn’t super chronically horny, but will definitely turn to her hand if it’s been an extended patrol run where she has to be away from you for multiple nights at a time. she thanks her lucky stars the first time she opens her pack while camping out with her team at Eight and finds naughty polaroids you snuck in her bag. she finds it easy to treat her insomnia on those nights by shoving her fingers deep into her pussy and curling against her swollen g-spot, while her thumb flicks against the mass of her clit, sending shockwaves that spasm her toes and travel up her spine to the top of her head.

she has to use the flat of her palm against her mouth to stifle adorable, high pitched moans as her hips snap wildly, chasing an orgasm that rips through her body, leaving her panting heavily and leaking the contents of her fucked-out hole down her ass. she’s woken you up before with how loud and intense her sounds can be, so she hopes she can keep quiet well enough to not wake her squadmates stirring in their sleep.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

abby is heavily turned on by praise; tell her that she’s fucking you so good, that she’s hitting that spot just right, that she’s so pretty and strong and takes care of you just how you need it, and you’ll drive her crazy with love and lust. despite the fact that she reasonably can’t, abby always gets a kick out of you begging her to cum inside of you, to give you a baby, which she happily obliges, pressing deep into you with your feet to your ears, taking advantage of how much bigger and stronger she is, how tiny and pathetic and weak you are when you struggle, licking tears of ecstasy from your eyes and growling, “you want me to make you into a mommy, huh? –to blow my fuckin’ load deep in you?”

loves primal sex, fucking you on your tummy, against your bedroom door, in a headlock, over the table… enough said, just hunting you like prey and using all of her physical dominance to control your body like an animal, wrenching orgasm after orgasm out of your body even when you’re begging and pleading that it’s too much. she wants to dumb you out, ruin your mind and make you think only of her, living, breathing, existing only off of how good she makes you feel.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

abby is on whatever you’re on, honestly. she’s more careful at the stadium or the FOB, not wanting to do anything that jeopardises your reputations or her cushy position at isaac’s right hand. okay with weighing risks at home base, but she’s too paranoid and focused on keeping you safe in a dangerous world to do anything when the two of you are outside the fence. her baby isn’t a soldier, so you might be more idealistic and naive about what lies outside of the walls. it’s hard for her to let her guard down when you’re too sweet, too optimistic, too soft, and there are a million terrible, horrible ways she could lose you lurking around every corner. the most you’ll get while on patrol is a quick make-out session, a couple of playful slaps to your ass or a hand on your waist pulling you from here to there, and at *most* a little bit of bump and grind in a deadbolted room. if she can guarantee your safety and comfort, she’ll oblige. but she’s not hard to convince, and she can’t deny your puppy eyes when you ask for a late-night quickie in the community showers. but all in all, she prefers her bedroom, where the two of you can be as loud as you want, where she can make the bed shake and rattle and hear you whine and moan and cry as much as she wants.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

loses her mind over tension. sexual tension, romantic tension, when you two are so pissed at each other that you could tear the other apart with bare hands. firm believer that the make-up sex is the best part of a fight. heated arguments turn into rough, primal fucking to fix both of your attitudes. the two of you stealing heated glances across the cafeteria while you work the consignment desk turns into the two of you huddled in a utility closet, abby’s cheeks warming the space between your breasts, raking a finger through your folds painfully slow. when you see her after a long rotation in her militia gear, bloody, covered in dirt and whatever else but still whole and still yours, your soldier, your protector– it’s like the two of you go into fucking heat, romping like bunnies for hours while you reward her for a job well done, letting her burn off all of that pent up adrenaline and jumpiness from the day.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

she’s really anxious about hard impact. she’s painfully aware of how much stronger she is than the average woman, and she’ll never get anywhere more physical than a firm slap on your ass or pussy, or little slaps to your cheek to redirect you during play. she’s terrified of hurting you, and she’ll never go farther than that, even if you really want her to.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

abby’s a head monster. can eat you out for HOURS to the point of overstimulation. gripping and slapping your ass, squishing your pussylips between two fingers, relishing in the way that your gush leaks from the seams, wrenching your thighs apart so she can have easy access to fuck you out with her tongue. she’s a bit impartial to receiving when you first get together. she considers herself a service top; she gets off watching you get off, and great head is infrequent at the stadium. that all changed the first time you offered, tongue plying down into her musky heat, savouring the salty-sweetness of her warmth. from there, she was lost, fucking your mouth and chasing her own pleasure. the only thing breaking her out of her haze was the feeling of you lightly slapping her inner thigh, running out of breath from the heavy palm tangled in your hair holding you tight to her cunt. she apologised profusely afterward that she was too blissed out, that she’ll be more mindful next time. you two still laugh about how the head was so good she tried to kill you; poor baby doesn’t know her own strength :(

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Most times, if she's lethargic and sleepy from a long shift she’ll let you take complete control, riding her until your orgasm and then falling asleep on her tummy. Other times, like days off, she's in full control; fucking you like she hates you in the prone position as she pushes you down with her weight, or laying in bed and holding your leg up in the air effortlessly as she fucks you slow and romantic from the side.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

abby desires you in every way. it doesn’t really matter to her, as long as she can get her hands on you. she loves quickies for their tense, ’try not to get caught’ vibe and the challenge of seeing how fast she can ruin you with just her fingers and tongue, but in reality, she’s not very good at them. she’s fucked you ten minutes before she had to roll out for patrol, just because she was pent up from last night and you looked soo fucking irresistible. fucking you fast and rough with her arm around your throat, doling out breath as she saw fit, your eyes rolling back as you got brought to orgasm and then taken back to the starting line over and over. it carried over so late that they had a rookie come to her door and knock looking for her. needless to say, that rookie got chewed out and taken off her next patrol for insubordination.

but I think she relishes getting to be slow with you. everything in her life is so fast, so twitchy, always on edge, so she really values getting to lay down in bed with you and take you down piece by piece. spreading open your lips and working you open finger by finger until you’re all swollen down there and leaking over her palm, pussy so cute and red and puffy and just *begging* for her thumb to slide in too. introducing the strap to your well-used, well-warmed-up cunt, and analysing every muscle in your face as you keen at the insertion. she’ll rub your clit achingly slow, listening as you babble for more, to stop teasing, to fuck you the way that only she knows, and marvels at how your hard clit stands at attention and bounces around her fingertips. when she’s done, abby wants it to be hours after, your moans still stuck to the ceiling, pussy clenching and unclenching, wetting the sheets as you’re left a defiled slut, but most importantly, hers and hers only.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

abby anderson is good for being adventurous in bed, but she’s only really comfortable with simple risks; erotic asphyxiation, rope bondage, spanking. one night, you asked her if she could bring her service pistol into the bedroom –unloaded, disassembled and reassembled, of course– and it was a firm ‘no.’ but she still thinks about it sometimes, not gonna lie. she never wants to put you in a place where recklessness can get one, or both of you seriously injured or worse.

but what she didn’t know, however, was that she was getting into a relationship with a crazy fucking daredevil. you’re practically owned by trying to convince her to fuck in risky, dangerous places.

"babe, why don’t i give you some head? you cleared out this scar camp sooo good–!" "no."

":(( let's scissor in this abandoned tunnel, then!" "stop. we gotta sweep the area for infected."

"are you sure you don’t want some pussy off the side of this ferris wh–" "what the fuck did i say?"

under normal circumstances, abby wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to punish you for being bratty, but right now she’s trying to keep her lunch inside, thankyouverymuch!

sidebar but sometimes she’ll just snap after all of your failed attempts at seducing her, pushing you into the dirt wherever you are, and just… starts savagely hard domming you, sheathing her strap into your cunt with her hand over your mouth and the other fisted in your hair, pulling by the roots, wedging your mouth open and making you swallow thick gobs of her spit.

“this what you wanted, right?” yanking your head up to meet her face, eyes burning with rage. “and you better be fuckin’ quiet. goddamn liability.” she sneers into your ear, bottoming out into you over and over again and battering your cervix and tender inner walls, the pleasure and degradation making fat tears run down your cheeks. fortunately (for her, at least,) she doesn’t have any more problems with disobedience for the rest of the journey back to the FOB.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

dating a gym rat wasn’t your most well-thought-out idea, as she has so much more stamina than you know what to do with. content with fucking you until her muscles burn and you’re begging her that it’s too much, abby treats you like human exercise equipment. when she really needs long-term stress relief, she whispers in your ear, “lay down baby, you’re gonna be my workout buddy, yeah? g’na be my good girl and help me get bigger and stronger?”

she makes you count out how many strokes she gives you, holding you up and bouncing you on her fat dick with nothing else but the strength of her bulging, hard-working muscles supporting every pound of your weight, muttering something to herself about how this is better than getting on the bench, anyways. you’re surprised when you see her looking over her naked form in the mirror after a long “personal training” session, and she has an actual muscle pump.

after what feels like hours, you’re trying to catch your breath, looking and feeling a fucked out mess, when abby runs her hands back over your ass, kneading and gently ghosting over your ruined pussy with a finger. “got another set in you, i know you do.” and you barely have enough time to get back into position before your eyes are rolling back and she’s ripping a moan out of you, in plank position with her hands on either side of your head as she slides her cock head into your messy, torn-up twat.

...it’s going to be a long session.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

abby’s prized possession is a glittery blue strap-on, eight-and-a-half inches of pure problem, sourced from the ruins of a dilapidated strip mall the two of you stumbled across on patrol. she was a bit impartial to the idea, but figured that it would ease some of the stress off her achy wrists. quickly became hooked, wanting to use it every time you two fucked, and any chance she could crop up, nestling into you while you stood at the sink, hands in the dishes, her fingers getting lost under your bra, squishing a nipple as she sunk deeper inside. she loved how she could see you get more and more fucked out than you ever had off just her tongue alone, could grit her teeth as leather and rough fabric bit into her clit, could marvel in the mirror at the bulge it left when she stuffed it into her briefs before heading out for the day, straining against the grey cotton, altering the tempo of her walk, forcing her natural manspread just a little bit wider. could get a *great* core workout from pounding into your abused holes for hours.

abby is obsessed with strap sucking as foreplay, especially if you fix up those pretty, puffed-up lips with gloss or lipstick so that she can watch as sloppy rings form around the silicone. loves watching you make yourself messy with spit running down your chin as you mouth her strap through her cotton boxers. (loves SLOPPY top, like really throat it, gag, hit the back of your throat choking it down, slobber coating your fingers in messy globs. wants to see tears and snot and spit dribbling out of you from loving her cock the way only you know how.)

one night, you finally give her the green light to act out one of her biggest fantasies, letting her fuck your throat nice and deep, making you gag and drool every time she bottoms out, your domineering girlfriend reaching a hand to rub your clenching throat, whispering a mixture of sweet nothings and abject depravity that sends shockwaves to your clit and makes you ruin your panties.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

abby doesn’t consider herself a sadist but lets it be known that there’s no such thing as a free lunch. knows just when to switch off her puppy-dog girlfriend mode that just wants to make you feel good and turn on her wolf callousness, the cruelty that relishes torturing you. will let you be a brat and then edge you for days as punishment, watching you cry as her finger brushes over your exploited clitty, helpless but to let her go knuckle deep in your little hole and thrashing as she fucks you ever so slowly, savouring your pleas to have mercy. not super into the public sex thing, but will have you sit on her lap or her thigh in the cafeteria or in the common area at the stadium, grinding into your pussy and pretending like nothing is happening while you stifle your moans and your mind goes blank.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Abby is possessive DOWN and, therefore, loud as fuck when you two are at each other. tried to hold back her moans when y’all had first got together, now she’s an animal in the bedroom, groaning and panting in your ear turning into growls and near-inhuman whines and moans. a sucker for call-and-response, and will tease you over and over again until you say, ‘it’s your pussy, this is your pussy,’ in the way she likes it. wants people to walk past her room and know what’s going on, wants to claim you even when you’re not together, wants to make it known that you’re strictly off limits. her mouth gets filthier and more degrading when she’s far gone, and it’s not unlikely for her to growl out that you’re a bitch or a whore, and make you repeat it at the top of your lungs.

when she’s bottoming, it’s a whole different story, keening and moaning into your touch, stifling her whines by biting her lip, a habit that you hate. has pretty, subby moans that only get louder the closer she gets to orgasm. It's enough to ring in your ears and shake the wall; the sounds of her begging and crying can definitely be heard in the hallways and outside on the green, but when she’s close, chasing her peak and pleading to be let go, she doesn’t give a fuck. It’s obvious what it is, what’s going on, that it’s abby begging, “mommy– fuck, please let me get off please lemme fuckin’ cum, ineeditineeditireallyneedit.” it’s the sound that can be heard around the world, but she’s never been approached about it, and at this point she really dares someone to try.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

has a habit of slamming the headboard with her palm when she’s filling you rough and deep with her strap. she’d never turn her pent-up aggression on you, but it fires you up knowing that she’s on the verge of losing it. it makes you crazy, seeing her in her most primal form, bottled-up stress and anger spilling out of her, using your pussy the way she wants, how she thinks you deserve it. also a firm believer in sticking her thumb in your asshole while fucking you from behind.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

five feet and eleven inches of absolutely sculpted muscle. every single part of her looks custom made, every freckle painted on by hand, each scar webbing her skin a reminder of every time she made it back home. unshaven everywhere, her tummy and her legs and her underarms covered in dense, velvety swaths of hair, making her cuddly and soft like a pillow. the doughy fat of her small breasts pokes out over her impressive pectorals; the divot of her chest is covered in a heavy swath of freckles. deep pink, medium-sized nipples, slightly puffy and heavily sensitive. enjoys nipple play and breast stimulation as foreplay; likes having her breasts sucked on during sex. straight hips and thick thighs, deep scar on her left thigh from a raider ambush. has an outie pussy with fat outer lips, inner labia is dark pink and protrudes; the first thing to engorge when aroused. larger than average clit with high sensitivity. less sensitive to penetration, so she usually needs a lot of foreplay or dual stimulation to have a penetrative orgasm. curly blonde pubic hair around the perimeter of her vagina. firm ass, all muscle. brown splotch birthmark on her left asscheek. has an asshole, you know.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

abby prides herself on willpower and self-control, but when it comes to you, she burns hot. she wants her hands, tongue, fingers, everything on you or in you or grabbing anything she can touch. she had secret trysts, an assortment of sneaky links and fuckbuddies to scratch that itch deep inside, but she was c o n t r o l l e d by how much she desired you, how she fucks you like she needs you or else she’ll fucking die.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

such a cuddlebug. after it’s all said and done, expect abby to use the superior force of her body to roll you on top of her, lips full of praise and sweet kisses, and run hands through your hair and down your back until you fall asleep. watches you for a little while, taking in every peaceful, sweet feature on your face until that familiar warm pressure coats her skull and the pull of gravity plays against her eyes. she always goes to bed last, dutiful in making sure you're content, sated and happy, but on days where she doesn’t have to work she’s the last to wake up, a lump forming in her throat when you greet her with breakfast and coffee from the cafeteria, she laughs it off as soreness from sleeping under an open window.

#abby anderson ff #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby smut #abby tlou smut #abby anderson x reader #tiki writes

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dragons-and-art · 1 month

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Do you like the color of bird?

As an experiment i decided to do a specie swap with the dragon bunch, as a design exercise to see what defines each of my goobers. I started by turning them all into draygon birds, somehow ending with several more species of fluffy cloud friends.

Honestly it is perfect, since i already had the idea of having my cloud draygons come in different colors, each fitting a shade of the sky. I ended with four subspecies, called Midnight Grey, Rose Morning, Midday Blue, and Golden Sunset.

Vinny and Vex get to be Midnight Greys, fitting to their dominant and sometimes misjudged personas. These draygons are known as the strongest yet most elegant of the four subspecies, with more tidy feathers that allow them to fly quietly through the night. These two specifically come in slightly different shades due to their parents being of different species, with Vex getting a redder hue and the usual bulky build of the breed, while Vinny retains the proper blueish shade but with an odd thinner frame.

Nala gets to be the cutest thing alive by being a Rose Morning bird lass. Very active draygons, specifically in the morning. They are the smallest of the four, with short wings and stubbier bodies, but with the best control over their air magic, which allows them to lift off quickly and fly with surprising speed in short bursts.

Drixie would be a MIdday Blue gal, the sea bird of the four breeds, with wings best designed to cut through the air and soar with little assistance of their air powers, making them extremely good at long flights, sometimes having enough endurance to fly across continents. Also to note, this breed is usually very tall and sharp, the second tallest in fact, but Drixie's short and round genes are strong lol

And last but not least, Summer! Of course he gets some text <3

As a natural Golden Sunset cloud draygon, he's is one of tallest subspecies with his own height at 8'9", with strong wings to fly through the intense late afternoon winds, or sit still in the sky almost like a fluffy kite with the help of their elemental magic. Like their gray cousins, they were considered rare sights, as they used to keep themselves at a distance from the ground, some still preferring to live and roost in mountain peaks and far away islands. But in modern times you have odd ducklings like Summer who enjoy a life near the ground.

#digital art #oc art #character design #anthro #dragon #scalie #world of diondra #vinnyWoD #vexWoD #nalaWoD #drixieWoD #summerWoD

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desultory-novice · 7 months

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White-Haired Noir (Older)

I wasn't kidding when I said Noir has become more of "my OC" than before. Anyway, they tell me cringe is dead, so let's get on with it!

BE HAPPY TEENAGE BOY ...Uh... ADULT MALE??!

(Pictured: Would you believe this guy was once my Dark Matter Swordsman???)

No longer a teary-eyed apprentice, White-Haired Noir in ~the future~ (circa Star Allies??) has become a knight in his own right, swearing his service to Dedede as thanks for helping house the bruised, battered, emotionally unstable teen boy so many years ago.

Dedede Stop Adopting People Challenge (impossible)

Over the years (and with plenty of hard hitting, gloves-off training from Meta Knight) Noir has both grown up and grown accustomed to life on Popstar. He's regained some semblance of a life (gasp!) and inner peace. (...When Popstar's not being invaded, that is.)

He has friends (and rivals), is able to stomach food and drink a bit better, and has accepted Gooey, finally. He can even speak positively of his lost childhood with his little sister, on occasion.

Despite Popstar's generally warm weather, the Shiver Star native continues to dress in highly concealing fashion, as his upper body still bears the scars of his interrupted Dark Matter transformation; one reason he grew his hair out long was to help conceal the ones on his neck better, so as not to frighten the younger Waddle Dees.

[Assorted Text Wall Below]

Age Range: Mid 20s and up (Tbh, his specific age'll probably fluctuate depending upon the kind of story I want to tell. This is, quite simply, an adult Noir who's got his life more together.)

Abilities: Mild regenerative abilities, magic reflection, healing/purification, light projection [Rainbow Sword]

Protective magic and various physical ability-boosting magic [These come courtesy of the crystals adorning his jacket, a gift from the Queen of the Fairies. Noir is still a squishy human, after all. His fine swordplay aside, he needs magical enhancements to not get accidentally steamrolled by Kirby's other friends.]

Hobbies: swordplay, stargazing, crochet (Taranza taught him the last one, both as a mental grounding exercise and to help rehabilitate Noir's Dark Matter corrupted hands for performing delicate tasks. Half of Dream Land has one of Noir's early crochet octopi sitting in their storage. Nowadays, he makes toys for the younger Dees.)

Etc: Because of his closeness with King Dedede (and in large part due to their matching scarves/sashes), his general protectiveness of the Waddle Dees, as well as his fairy-tale outfit (which Ribbon helped with) Noir has picked up nickname of the "Prince of Dream Land"

A highly unfitting one, Noir has been heard to privately complain. In what world could an unwashed, damaged, sharp-tongued orphan with hands near-literally dyed in blood become a prince...?

Height-wise, if we consider King Dedede to be one of a breed of extinct "mega penguins" then Noir, fully grown, is of comparable height. (Dedede insists he's taller because of this crown puff. Huzzah! His title as king is safe!) In human terms, this does make Noir a short king :cough: prince, which in his case is due to malnourishment, physical abuse during puberty, and just plain genetics. ^^;

Anyway, despite how shockingly decent he looks cleaned up, Noir is still a feral cat at heart, and he hasn't lost his sass either, even if the edges have been somewhat filed off with time.

(Even the most angsty and tragic of emo boys can only go so many years with sparkly, shimmering, pastel rainbow hair (1) before they give up the act and start smiling ju~st a little more! ^_-)

(1) It is completely impossible for Noir to return his hair to its original dark maroon/black, btw. Even the strongest dye refuses to stick.

...And yes, he has attempted.

(Q: When is this...? Cause he still looked 16 in that FL comic you did.) (A: That's because I hadn't thought ahead when I wrote it! This form is basically meant as something to pull out for the later games with some extra padding for any future games/events. >w< )

(Q: So... is that FL comic still Apologies canon?) (A: ~ish! He would definitely be his older self now. That said, this Noir did still encounter Elfilin by chance, immediately recognized him as ID-F86, and had a PTSD episode over it, dredging up old memories he'd believed he had come to peace with. It was the closest the Dark Matter in Noir had come to re-awakening in years. Elfilin's sincere apology to the innocent victims of Forgo's rage helped Noir keep from losing himself completely and he was able to recover.

Also, following Crystal Shards, Noir DID resume having daily nightmares about Adeleine and her fate. That was why MK encouraged him to stay with the fairies of Ripple Star for a time and recuperate; that Noir could resume his training with Meta Knight later on. The grateful fairies all turned out to completely ADORE him - particularly, his shining rainbow hair. This period away from Popstar meant that he totally missed out on Amazing Mirror though.)

(Q: If he missed Amazing Mirror, what games DIDN'T he miss?) (A: He was actually there for a somewhat altered version of Meta Knightmare Ultra in Planet Robobot! It was his first "mission" with his teacher. (And I have a fanfic brewing about that, thanks to the anon who asked what if Noir got within wishing distance of Star Dream...)

Unlike Meta's relationship with Kirby, where Meta trusts Kirby to bounce back from everything and is excited :wipes drool off face: to see how much Kirby will grow, Meta Knight tries (somewhat) to keep his very human disciple out of danger, if he can. He's not soft on him by any means, with hard blows and even harder life lessons, but he knows that Noir came to them hanging onto life by a very frayed thread and he only pushes as far as he believes Noir can take.

Nowadays, he's much more trusting of him to handle himself.

(Q: Assuming he was in SA, where was he during TDX, RtDL, and FL? (A: In both Triple Deluxe and Forgotten Land, he was away from Popstar. Record of Stopping Dedede Abductions: 0/2. He rolled his eyes at a giant beanstalk erupting from Dream Land leading to a kingdom in the clouds "...You're kidding?" and Dedede was stomping mad when Noir laughed outloud about the story of the abduction - which concealed the fact that Meta Knight WAS LAUGHING TOO.

In Return to Dream Land, Noir was still on Popstar but didn't participate in the adventure in any capacity. When everyone returned and told the tale of Magolor's betrayal, his response was a deadpan, "Okay but you all saw that coming a mile away though, right? .........Tell me you saw that coming." He was a little less sassy when he heard Magolor's downfall came at the hands of a corrupting artifact.)

(Q: Wasn't Noir taller than Dedede in that one random sketch?) (A: As an Earth human. Noir eventually became Popstarian size.)

(Q: It's nice that he's okay but... but Adeleine... ; _ ; ) (A: Yeah... However, similar to Blade and Gooey in the main verse, in the AU AU, it was Painter who took care of and sheltered the Dark Matter outcast. Noir initially hated Gooey, because he despised Dark Matter for destroying his family and he hated it every time Gooey tried to approach him - like a sign that he would never escape his mistakes. Only later was he forced to confront Gooey and realize that Gooey was always seeking Noir out because of Adeleine's memories Gooey had taken in. They eventually had a painful heart to heart, where Noir was able to experience his sister's last memories through Gooey. Noir now lets him wear Painter's beret in memory of her.)

Anyway, that's now two (and a half (?) if you count "Snowflakes") Noirs who have escaped the cycle of misery! Hooray!

Don't worry, Main Timeline Noir, your salvation comes next............Probably???? >w<

#Kirby #Kirby OC #Apologies AU #Apologies AU AU #Noir (human form dms)#I've got more sketches of him cooking but this post was already getting long with just the text alone #Has Dess said how much Dess hates costume design??#(He takes a LOT of elements from MK due to his training)#The hair ribbon was gift from... Ribbon #I wonder if White-Haired Noir needs a new tag now #Seeing as how the DMS elements of him are running low #cw: character death #...for Adeleine ^^;#King Dedede #Adeleine #I may let him play in the OC Reindeer Games now maybe???#I am not sure who WANTS to yet ^^; ... plus I feel like not drawing humans is why a good chunk of us are here but! XD #(Stop being nervous Dess and indulge in the cringe!!!!)

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carnivorousyandeere · 11 months

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Alright more thoughts— specifically about Marcus with afab Darling and kegel balls. Please heed the warnings, this one’s fucked up

More Unethical Pelvic Floor Therapy with Marcus

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: abuse of power, gaslighting, unethical medicine, intentional bad medical advice (leaving kegel balls in for extended periods can actually fatigue your muscles and damage them; any company suggesting you do this instead of actual exercises is working from pseudoscience. If it’s your kink to leave ‘em in a long time go ham or whatever… just know the risks), smut, dubcon, overstimulation, painful fingering, painful sex, mating press but no talk of actual breeding

Info: gn afab reader

Your physical therapists had recommended you start using kegel balls— “it’ll help with your mood and disgestion!” Said one. “It’s a great workout, helps keep you healthy,” nodded the second. The last insinuated it would improve your sex life— as if you’d had sex with anyone but the three of them since you started visiting their office.

None of them had really explained how you were supposed to use them, so you figured your best bet would be to ask Marcus. The other two would insist on “showing you how to use them,” and you’d just end up fucked out in one of their offices again. When you asked, he just laughed a little and pushed up his glasses, typing away at his computer and not sparing a glance, as if you should already know the answer.

“You lube it up, with as little lube as possible, and slide it into the vaginal canal. Then, it should rest rather comfortably near your cervix, much as a tampon might. After that, you just let it stay there for a few hours while you go about your day. Your pelvic floor muscles will contract as you go about your day.”

“Oh…” you feel your face burning. “Is that… it, then?”

“Mm?” Marcus finally glances up at you. “Yeah? You shouldn’t keep them in for longer than eight hours at a time. And if you think the ones we’ll be sending you home with are too big, or you experience any pain or unusual discharge, come back in right away.”

~~~

You made it a few days. The feeling was strange, though not unpleasant— at first. You could feel it inside you as you walked around, though if you ignored it the feeling began to fade. You did notice yourself squirming a bit more, finding it harder to get comfortable. You felt… full in a way you hadn’t before. Eating and drinking made the pressure in your gut all the more noticeable. You tried not to think about it too much, and took it out at the end of your day as instructed, even though the lack of a string to pull it by was a little difficult.

The second day, you had a little trouble inserting the ball, though not too much. You did notice a small ache as the day wore on, and that your underwear felt a little more… wet than usual. At the end of the day, though, you were able to take the ball out and relax.

You woke up hot and wet the third day. You felt a little tight, but the ball slipped in without much trouble. You couldn’t focus on anything, though. Your abdomen felt so tight and hot. You feared you might leak through your underwear, and had to come home early to try and compose yourself. But try as you might when you got home, you couldn’t get the kegel ball out. You’d gotten too tight, painfully so. Embarrassed and needier than you could remember being in a long while, you pulled your clothes back up and make your way to the clinic for Marcus’ help.

~~~

It doesn’t take him long to figure out what’s going on between your panicked expression and the sweat beading at your temples, even as you struggle to tell him what’s wrong. Marcus coaxes you to undress. You lay back on an exam table, and Marcus quickly dawns a sterile mask and a pair of gloves, spreading lube over his gloved fingers. You hiss and flinch away when his fingers ghost over your clit. You see Marcus’ glimmering eyes narrow over his mask.

“You kept that damn thing in for hours a day, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes, you… told me to…”

Marcus’ eyebrows shoot up. “There’s no way… that’s far too long… your poor muscles must be so fatigued.”

He slides a finger inside you, eyebrows raising even a bit further when the tip of his finger meets the kegel ball still lodged inside you. “You couldn’t even get it out again… poor baby.”

He ignores your pained whines as he slides his finger in and out, adding a bit more lube to ease you. He doesn’t want to permanently injure you, after all… You tense and tear up as a second finger begins to slide in. Marcus shushes you, holding your hip with his other hand and brushing his thumb over the skin.

“You’ll be alright, we’ve just gotta open you up enough to pull it out.” He scissors his fingers gently, working you open. His eyes rove hungrily over your form, following the tears that drip from your eyes and devouring your pained expression like it’s a fine dessert. His pants feel much too tight.

Eventually, Marcus is able to grab the small ball and gently wiggle it free. You let out a sigh of relief and slump against the table when his hands leave you, and the ball thumps onto the table then clatters away onto the floor, forgotten as Marcus’ hands come back to spread you open to get a good look. Your folds are wet and puffy, much more than from the lube. Marcus twitches in his pants, fighting back a groan.

You tense again, wet eyes darting to him in surprise when you feel his finger testing your entrance again. “M-Marcus, please, it’s too—“

“Sore?” He interrupts. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you don’t listen to me. And if I don’t massage out these muscles now, it’s only gonna feel worse on down the line.”

You whine, turning your face to the side as Marcus slides that finger deeper inside and slides his mask down with his other hand. He kisses your cheek, tasting the tear tracks there. You shut your eyes and nod. It’s all you can do.

Your muscles are just too tight, clenching painfully around around his thick fingers as he works them inside. He spreads you apart a little bit more, keeping up the pretense of helping to relieve the ache in your core, before his fingers find that sensitive spot inside you. You jolt at the feeling, a lightning bolt of strained pleasure that has you gritting your teeth through the stars in your vision.

Marcus shushes you as you pant and groan at the strange feeling building in your gut, his fingers working that spot ever more harshly. He reassures you that everything’s going to be okay. He kisses your cheek, your forehead, strokes your hip with his free hand. It’s the most painful orgasm you’ve ever felt, but the relief that follows as you gush around his fingers is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You go boneless against the exam table, covering your face and willing your heart to calm down.

Marcus’ fingers still, but only for a moment. He curls them again right before you can catch your breath.

“M-Marcus, no, it hurts, I can’t-”

He curls his fingers harder, breathing in your pained whine as his lips ghost over yours.

“I’ll help you feel better, but you need to relax.”

“I can’t,” you sob.

“You can,” he insists. “Be good and let me help you.”

You sob harder, finding yourself nodding again, relinquishing control over yourself as you let him work you over on his fingers again and again. You feel so tired, so achy, the burning pleasure rubbing your nerves raw like sandpaper.

Marcus relishes in your cries, making you cum twice, then thrice, before losing patience and slipping his scrubs down to rub his cock against you. You jolt and cry out even louder as his tip brushes over your clit. Marcus bites his lip, fighting back a groan at the sight. You look so pretty, tear-stained and incoherent.

He can’t help running his hands up the backs of your thighs, slick with sweat, and pressing them firmly against your chest as he slides in. Marcus stays still for a moment, savoring how hot and wet you are. You’re so tight that every twitch of him inside you makes you gasp with the discomfort. He knows you’re only going to be more sore in the morning. The thought of taking care of you, so weak and helpless, only makes him twitch even harder, moaning against the shell of your ear.

#darling passing out #waking up with jelly legs unable to walk the next morning 🤭#Marcus taking care of them and offering to ‘kiss it better’… by which he means gently eating you out #but of course; gentle as he is the next day he still overstimulates you on his tongue again 🤭#so how much rest is it really? 🤭🤭🤭#oc marcus #yandere therapist #my thoughts #yandere #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere cw #mdni #nsft #yandere smut

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schafpudel · 1 year

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What Kind of Duck, is Duck?

OK. So first, let's get this out of the way:

Duck is not real. Duck is, first and foremost, the vague idea of a duck. Duck... is not strongly based on the reality of ducks as an animal.

She is extremely stylized, a blobby little chibi-mascot in a world of anime humans and realistically rendered animals and animal-people. She has contradictory traits - the yellow coloration of a duckling, on the functional flight feathers of a bird that's entered its adult plumage. Her thoughts and actions are noticeably less bestial than those of Mr. Cat or any of the talking-animal students, not beholden to instincts.

When asking what kind of duck our friend Duck is, we must first admit to ourselves that this is a silly question. Ducks like Duck do not exist. She has little candy-cane legs, for god's sake. God bless her.

(If we want to get real meta, perhaps we could speculate that she isn't a real duck because she is a story-duck: escaped from her narrative like the prince and the raven, and the wilis maiden, and the ghost knight, oblivious to her origins. It would, if nothing else, provide a fun watsonian explanation for some of her oddities.)

But fandom is all about getting fucking silly with it, and building elaborate though exercises about shit the creators didn't think about. And I'm an animal nerd. So this is how I choose to have fun. Let's go.

Analysis of the Birb

Duck can be safely assumed to be a Anas platyrhynchos domesticus, or domestic mallard, as this is the typical barnyard duck throughout Asia, Europe, and... really almost the entire world. I say she must be a domestic mallard, and not wild, for one simple reason:

On the left is the typical appearance wild mallard duckling. On the right are various domesticated ducklings. That's right; the solid yellow color we associate with baby ducks? Specific to domesticated ones! Solid yellow is a sign a duckling will grow up to be a white duck; ducklings that grow up to be other colors have darker fluff mixed in.

(That's right. She'll have white plumage like a swan...)

Many white ducks have orange bills, legs, and feet; other white ducks, especially as ducklings, have orange legs and pink bills. Duck's bill is far more pinkish than her feet, but it's still noticeably orange-y, putting her in sort of a middle area. (By the way, have you ever noticed that Duck's hair color as a girl is the same as her bill color as a duck?)

If she's intended to be anything in particular (which I doubt she is), it might be the German Peking - native to the area, and the creamy-yellow tinged adult plumage of the German Peking compared to other white ducks seems to be reflected by the tint of the duck-feather quill Autor provides as a substitute for Drosselmeyer's swan-feather quill.

However, let me provide my personal baseless headcanon.

Come and see the humble Call Duck

The Call Duck is a Dutch breed, speculated to be descended from a variety of duck imported to the Netherlands from Japan. Call ducks are a smaller-than-average breed, with a note-worthily "cute" appearance compared to other ducks, even as adults: large forehead, round cheeks, short bill. They're also noteworthy for being sociable and friendly with their human keepers, making them great pets compared to other ducks... as well as very, very noisy and talkative.

(Nobody's perfect.)

There's also a certain... symbolism, I think, to the Call as a breed.

Call ducks are friendly and talkative because they were bred not for eggs, or for meat, but for hunting. Not that they themselves hunted! But their innocent, friendly talkativeness, their cheerful noisy voices, were shaped as a siren song to lure wild ducks into funnel traps. Unwittingly bringing the demise of its own kind, the Call duck's sweetness is exploited by hunters to draws other ducks to their doom.

Duck is kind, and sweet, and wants to be friends with people, and wants to help them. She saw the Prince on the lake, like a wild swan, and wanted to help him in any way she could.

In Drosselmeyer's eyes, this made her the perfect person to become Princess Tutu, to set the story back in motion... and through that friendly kindness, send every "character "in the Story to their doom.

#princess tutu

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technocheese · 3 months

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Happy pride! Made with gouache, ink, and gel pens.

This is a project I've been working on for a while for an anti-hate campaign. I chose to rebut the argument that homosexuality and non-cis gender identities are "unnatural" by providing examples of animals that are regularly seen to exhibit these so called "unnatural" behaviors with no human influence. What's more natural than nature itself?

Since the majority of animals have no concept of gender and many do not exhibit romantic attraction (namely reptiles, but just solitary animals in general), it was really difficult to specify what animal might fit in what category, especially gender-wise. This was definitely a thinking exercise, lol.

Here are my explanations for everything. I wish I could write this out a little better, but I've been working on this all day and my brain is completely fried but I wanted to get it out before pride month ended. I also have footage of the process I need to turn into a timelapse but its like 15 hours of video and it's going to take forever to render. I'll probably link it here eventually.

--------

Lesbian: Mourning geckos are an all female species of gecko that reproduce asexually through parthenogenesis. Even though they can lay eggs alone, they engage in pseudocopulation with other females, which seems to trigger ovulation.

Female koalas engage in all female "sex sessions," attempting to mate with each other prolifically. They reject males during this time.

Gay: Penguins have been observed to form same-sex partnerships, even going as far as hatching eggs and raising chicks together.

Male giraffes exhibit striking amounts of homosexual behavior. In one study, sexual activity between males made up 90 percent of all observed mating attempts.

Bisexual: 18-22 percent of rams are bisexual. They also seem to exhibit asexuality, in addition to homosexuality. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2668810/

Transgender: Hens will sometimes stop producing eggs, grow spurs, have increased wattle growth, and begin exhibiting male specific behaviors, like crowing.

Clownfish are born male and become females later in life if no other dominant female is present. They are sequential hermaphrodites.

Intersex: The gene that gives calico cats their coat pattern is linked to two X chromosomes. Male presenting calico cats will have an extra X chromosome, and can be considered intersex. (Sorry that the cat also has white, it's hard to color a calico with only two colors lol)

Asexual: Bees and naked mole rats both live in communities where only the most dominant matriarch (and patriarch, for mole rats) breed. Both male and female mole rats exhibit this behavior. The nonbreeding individuals benefit the community by gathering resources and rasing young.

Aromantic: Reptiles, as a general rule, feel no romantic attraction. Tortoises are solitary by nature and do not form bonds with their mates.

Pansexual: Lovebirds can be non-discriminatory with the mates they choose, and it is not uncommon to see individuals match up regardless of sex.

Agender: Ochre sea stars show no sexual dimorphism at all. Most animals have no concept of gender, but they are especially genderless. The only way to determine their sex is to examine their internal gonads.

Genderfluid: Gobies are one of the few animals that change their sex multiple times in their life.

Nonbinary: African land snails are hermaphrodites. They have both male and female sexual organs.

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merakiui · 2 years

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Is it ok for some Goldfish mer Riddle though?

It is more than okay!

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, captivity, codependency, mentions of breeding)

Riddle is actually quite well-behaved for a mer in captivity. Unlike the eel twins or the octopus, he’s much more accepting of humans and their interest in him. He tends to show off sometimes, especially if there’s a specific person he wishes to impress and receive praise from. He’s very intelligent and has even managed to pick up a few words and phrases he’s heard during his time in captivity. And he is very particular about his routines! He has each of his days memorized and by some miracle, despite never seeing the clock, he always knows when to wait at the surface for the researchers so they may run their usual examination of him. He seems to get huffy if they’re late, even if by a few minutes.

Though he’s obedient and follows everything the researchers want him to do when signaled, he seems quite lonesome in captivity. On days when he isn’t being seen by anyone, he’ll swim close to the glass, peering out at the lab equipment that waits behind the confines or he’ll swim in circles with a very thoughtful expression on his face. It always looks like he’s thinking through something, and he loves to observe the space that remains outside of his tank.

It isn’t a surprise when you’re assigned to study more of his behavior while also keeping his mood uplifted. You’re known to excel at caring for merfolk, hence why you’re usually assigned troublesome, fussy mers because your colleagues think you’re some sort of “mer whisperer.” Truthfully, you’re just genuine and you know how to connect through patience. On Sundays, Mondays, and Tuesdays you’ll meet with the octopus to keep him company and study him (though he rarely comes to the surface, which means you usually don diving gear and sink to the bottom. He’s grown accustomed to your visits now and doesn’t seem averse to you anymore, in fact even peering out of his octopus pot in anticipation when he knows of the times you usually arrive). On Wednesdays and Thursdays, you meet with the twins to keep them company. Though since they have each other, they’re a lot less dejected about captivity. They make for very mischievous playmates. You love studying their behaviors and how they interact with each other, with you, and with other researchers.

Now that your Fridays and Saturdays have been dedicated to seeing Riddle, you’ve decided to take a different approach. With the octopus and twins, there’s a certain level of caution you exercise due to their sizes and the fact that they are still known as predators from the deep sea. But with Riddle, who is much smaller and was found in a warmer, brighter freshwater habitat, he’s considerably more docile and social. He doesn’t exactly warm up to you at first, as your appearance disturbs his routine—his carefully crafted schedules that are so very important to him. He acts as if that breaks some horrible rule when you first arrive and introduce yourself, looking so horrified and confused that his expression shifts through various feelings all at once. But when you make it clear that you’re to be a recurring figure in his schedules, he relaxes and offers his webbed hand in greeting, mirroring the handshakes he’s watched the researchers do.

Riddle is very charming. He learns very quickly throughout the time he spends with you and the time spent observing other humans. He’s trying to teach himself more words so that he can converse with you, which has led him to insist upon communicating verbally rather than through actions or gestures so that he can better understand. Much like the octopus, he grows attached rather quickly and seems to be very receptive to praise of any kind, whether it be a reward or a proud gesture.

Riddle feels like his meetings with you take far too long to arrive and they always feel so fleeting. How time can pass so quickly when he’s with you but draw out forever while he’s waiting to see you is simply unfair. He tries to keep you longer, obviously desperate to remain in your company, but you can never stay for too long. Sometimes you’ll go over the allotted time and Riddle’s so very pleased when you say you’ll stay for a while longer. He does everything you ask of him, and he never causes any troubles. He doesn’t try to escape from his enclosure, he doesn’t splash any of the researchers (unless agitated), and he’s always been so cooperative. He’s a perfect, model mer! Surely you’ll continue to stay if he continues to follow the rules.

Even though he does very well on his own, he depends on you a lot. At first it was for learning purposes. He’d request materials to look at, such as textbooks, picture books, or certain objects he’d either heard of or seen while in captivity, and you would always be sure to bring them. And while he still relies on you for that, he also relies on you for company and affection and connection. He spirals into codependency so quickly that it takes you by surprise. Riddle has never gotten violent or temperamental with you or any of the researchers, but when you attempt to leave him one day and he grabs your wrist so tightly and yanks you into the enclosure with so much desperation it makes you realize he’s starting to pick up unhealthy mannerisms. The octopus and the twins have been like this before. Once, he trapped you in his octopus pot, folding himself around you to keep you there with him even though your oxygen tank’s supply was dwindling. And the twins had trapped you in an endless game of chase when they’d pulled you in and wouldn’t let you climb back out, insisting on playing with you until you could no longer keep yourself afloat due to sheer exhaustion. Perhaps you’ve kept your guard lowered around Riddle solely because he never posed any threat to you.

And he still doesn’t. In fact, when he has you in the water with him he doesn’t seem to know what to do. He looks absolutely saddened and scared and confused all at the same time, and he’s holding your arms so gently as he peers at you. But he seems to realize something and he’s quick to bring you back to the surface, pushing you towards the ledge so that you may climb out. He looks conflicted when you do this, his hand outstretched as if he expects you to grab it. Instead, you gently touch his palm and promise that you’ll be back next week. Poor Riddle is so ashamed with himself because he’s broken a rule, but he couldn’t help it. He wants you to stay so much. He misses you immensely in the days leading up to your scheduled arrival and almost doesn’t have the motivation to follow his other routines. But he focuses on those so that he won’t have to think of how lonely he is without you, as the familiarity and logical nature of a routine makes for a good distraction.

Riddle would never hurt you. He cares too much for you, almost to an obsessive degree. When you visit him next and your hand is wrapped in bandages and you offhandedly, casually mention one of the twins got you he frets over the injured area with a displeased frown and a dark look. He cradles your hand in his webbed ones, pressing it against his cheek and just holding it there. It’s a very endearing gesture. You wonder where he’s learned that.

For a while, you never had any problems with Riddle, aside from his usual desperation to get you to stay. No matter how hard he tries to keep you, he always lets you go. It seems he can’t bring himself to break the unspoken rules that have been put in place ever since you met him. Although things are a little different when breeding season is upon him. All merfolk act differently during this time; it’s an important moment in their lives. You’ve always avoided the octopus and twins when they were going through their cycles. The researchers would usually provide them with something to use to make up for the lack of a mate: an inflatable or molded silicone that was safe for them to use. It was too risky and dangerous to study them up close when they were so hyper-focused on breeding, and any cameras that may have been installed in advance for that purpose had been found and destroyed by both the octopus and the twins.

But Riddle is not as destructive or volatile as they usually are. In fact, as unfocused as he is, he’s actually more restless than violent or protective. He presses himself against the glass in hopes of seeing you, staying there for hours on end with his pupils blown wide. He remains perfectly still and even curls up at the very bottom to watch through the shadows. He never does anything to resolve the heat that overwhelms him, and if he does no one sees it. He becomes very private and subdued the deeper into his cycle he gets. You don’t visit him because, as kind and gentle as he is, he’s still a creature so uniquely different from humans, and all merfolk usually act rashly when in the throes of their natural biology.

Though if you had, he would have still treated you how he usually does. Riddle thinks of you and it helps get him through the unbearable. He wishes you’d visit. He wishes you were here with him. He wishes he could press himself against you and feel your delightfully human warmth. He wishes he could see you every day of the week, listen to your voice, touch your hands…

He resolves to have you during his next cycle, even if he has to break a few rules to achieve that.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #goldfishie <3 oh how i love him #now consider mer rollo >:)#i wonder what type of mer he would be #maybe something like an anglerfish or a jellyfish

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abirddogmoment · 4 months

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A little bit about CKC pointing field trials (puppy stakes) in general for those who are interested in how they run.

CKC has its hunting dog events broken out pretty specifically. CKC is restrictive in which breeds can run which events (e.g., only CKC registered approved pointing breeds can run pointing tests, other breeds are excluded even if they technically could complete the exercises. Rory can only run pointing events, she couldn't do a retriever test or a spaniel test).

We also have a distinction in trials vs tests, as most other venues do.

Trials - you are competing against other people and being judged against a standard. You run in pairs. Top 4 dogs get placements, once you get enough points you get a field championship.

Tests - you are running alone and being judged against a standard for a qualifying/non-qualifying runs. 3 qualifying runs gets you a title.

We are currently running CKC pointing field trials.

CKC pointing trials have two main distinctions within them - puppy stakes and senior stakes. You can enter whichever stake you're ready for, with some exceptions (like age) - you don't have to run puppy stakes before running senior stakes.

Puppy stakes are a little lower pressure because they judge puppies' potential. Within puppy stakes, there are two main types of runs.

Open puppy stakes: any puppy *of eligible breed* between 6 and 18 months old. No birds hidden in the field, no gunshots on the course, 15-20 minutes running.

Derby stakes: any puppy of eligible breed between 6 and 27 months old. At least two birds hidden in the field, puppy needs to point birds if encountered, gunshots, 20-30 minutes.

We run open puppy for now. Here's how this goes:

We are randomly paired with another puppy and handler (this pairing is called a brace, the other handler and dog are our bracemates). We walk up to the start line together (usually the entrance to a big pasture) with our puppies on leash. Two judges (on ATV or horseback) give us a quick overview of the course we have to walk. The course is usually through a big open field with medium cover (think knee high grasses and shrubs, some wetlands, some hills but no forest) and typically avoids fencelines or roads. They tell us to release our dogs at the same time, so we let the dogs off leash and start walking (very fast, and I'm a fast walker to begin with). The course is usually huge, much bigger than we could possibly walk in 20 mins.

Usually the puppies play a little bit and then get to work. The judges are looking for puppies who can ignore the other dog and handler, judges, ATV, horses, and spectators, hunt independently, cover lots of ground (move fast and steady across the terrain while still sniffing), use the wind to follow scent, and respond to their handlers' directions. If the puppies want to play too much, the judges will ask the handlers to split up a little bit to encourage the puppies to work independently. Usually you stick within about 10m (25ft) of your bracemate. Puppies can range anywhere as long as they stay visible and ahead of their handlers. (Puppies are often about several hundred metres/yards away from their handlers depending on breed. Rory ranges about 50-100m in real life and about 75-300m in field trials. It is an exhilarating exercise in trust in my training.)

The judges follow behind us and then spectators can follow behind the judges, if they want. We have to keep up a very fast pace to encourage the puppies to cover as much ground as possible, not at a jog but pretty close.

In puppy stakes, you want to keep as quiet as you can. The judges are looking for instinct and basic potential, so you don't want to ruin that by giving your dog tons of directions. If your puppy follows directions, that suggests they need directions to function. If your dog ignores directions, that's unresponsive and also bad. Ideally you shouldn't say much during your run unless there's danger (if a deer runs out, you would recall your puppy) or evils (if your puppy is eating poop, you could recall or redirect). You are allowed to chat with your bracemate but you have to hustle fast so it's usually friendly but minimal.

One important piece of open puppy stakes is that there are no planted birds in the field! There may be wild birds, but it's unlikely. Many people "over train" their bird dog puppies on live birds, and then the puppies get really frustrated that there are no birds in the field after they search so hard. This causes puppies to slow down or give up entirely during their run, so this is something that judges look for. In real life hunting, there's no guarantee of birds so it's important that puppies can work through frustration without losing enthusiasm.

The judges kind of shout directions (go left, head for those trees) from behind to keep us on course. In the best courses, the judges make you walk a loop, but sometimes your time ends in the middle of a field. When your time is up, the judges will thank you and tell you to leash your dog. We recall our puppies and put them on leash and walk them back to our cars for water and snacks.

That's the whole run for open puppy! It's very low pressure. The puppies basically just follow their hearts and do what they were made to do.

Derby is extremely similar, except there are birds planted in the field. The puppies don't HAVE to find birds but obviously its preferable that they do. If they find birds, they must point (stop moving and stand still staring at the bird). They don't have to be steady to flush or shot (they can chase when the bird flies or when the gun goes off), and only blanks are shot in derby. The course is a little longer but everything else is the same.

In open puppy and derby stakes, the judges are just looking for potential. They want to know if your dog would be competitive in the senior stakes, so they're looking for lots of independence, lots of bird drive, lots of stamina, things like that. Because they're judging potential, younger puppies may be judged a little easier than older puppies.

I think that's the gist of puppy stakes in CKC pointing field trials! Send me a message if you have questions about our experience so far!

#dogblr #field dog chronicles #bird dog training #ckc pointing dog field trials #people get frustrated about a lot of things in puppy stakes but ultimately puppies can do no wrong #it is just to see how they do in the field #do they have an interest in the game? do they care about their handler? can they ignore another dog?#its soooo low pressure and so fun #i think rory got placements because she is extremely responsive to directions without me having to say anything #she has extremely good stamina and doesnt get frustrated or lose enthusiasm #and she ranges super appropriately (always within eyesight but far enough out to search)#also she did some extremely nice search patterns and checking the field #it is so cool to see and so fun to participate in #and truly a genuine trust exercise #to see my dog running full tilt several hundred metres away and trust her to use her brain #AND SHE DOES #she does SO WELL #when i give a short whistle and she spins around to look at me immediately?#its enough to bring real tears to my eyes #mav and i cooperated well but never to this extent #i see why people field trial their dogs #it is so rewarding to see her do what she was made for

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sea-salted-wolverine · 1 year

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Story time from fish camp: content warning for the god damn dog

So, yeah, fish camp, forget connecting with nature, nature's connecting with you at high-speed impact via fish gut. Yes, the damn dog deserves every ounce of derision, buckle up, here we go.

Let's preface this by saying the dog does not go to fish camp. He stays at home. We are all aware of this issue. No one was surprised by this chain of events. Well, maybe the dog was surprised because he has half brain cell bouncing around in his useless skull but no one else was surprised.

So Adak is a gorgeous dog. He is a specimen of his breed. He goes out in public on a leash and strangers walk up and ask about his stud. We are talking kennel club level specifications.

He is also the most cringe fail fucked up canine who ever lived. You see pugs that can't breathe because their faces are too squashed and their legs don't work but their supposed to look like that because some eugenicists thought it would be fun to pose new and exciting questions about ethics. Those fuckups are intentional.

Adak is a retriever. He was intended to be a duck dog. He is meant to sit quietly next to you while you shoot a duck and then go get it for you. That's the entire purpose of his breed. He came from a litter of pups that do this competitively, and his owner used to train dogs to elite levels of competition. He now no longer does this for reasons we will get into in a moment, but suffice to say this dog started with higher expectations. He's not a Labrador he's a Chesapeake, a breed known for their intelligence but somewhere along the line something went fucking wrong.

The dog cannot retrieve. He doesn't know how. Its not instinctual and he refuses to learn. We have tried. People can't teach him, dogs can't teach him. He won't fetch a stick, or a dog toy or a training bumper or anything else you throw for him.

The dog is gunshy. He panics at the sound of a shot. Sometimes he forgets he's gunshy and there's a solid thirty seconds between the shot and when he decides to lose his shit.

The dog cannot sit quietly. If he is not the center of attention he makes sounds I have not heard from any other organic creature. Is is a squeaky hinge, a far off engine, something stuck in the garbage disposal? No, it's the dog, steadily getting louder because no one has looked at him in the last 2 minutes.

So yeah, arguably the worst possible example of a retriever. He's pretty, he's friendly, he's a good dog and a wonderful pet, just never expect him to do anything useful. Currently his primary function is vacuuming up toddler meals from underneath a highchair so he's happy.

But there's another peculiarity about this damn dog.

He has an engine fetish. A fixation, an obsession, whatever you care to call it. This animal's one true goal in life is to meld his skull to an engine plate and crack off all of his teeth on a spinning flywheel. Yes, some of this is learned behavior because he knows that when an engine starts up his people are off to go do things, fun things, and if he makes himself annoying enough he'll get to go with us. But that only accounts for about a third of how fucking bonkers this dog gets around internal combustion.

Fire up a snowmachine? His head is between the skis and he's doing his best to get inside the cowling. He has chiped his teeth trying to chew on a moving dirt bike tire. He has been run over multiple times, by multiple different machines. There is nothing you can do to dissuade this dog from hauling ass after a four wheeler. His mania is limited to small engines because if he was this stupid around cars he would have been roadkill years ago.

He's been to vets, he's been to experts. He has a wonderful doggy life with plenty of stimulus and affection and exercise and socialization. There's just something wrong with him.

So this is the animal we brought to fish camp. He's having the time of his life because he's surrounded by strangers who would love to pet him and stinky fish smells. Our camp has plenty of people so someone always has his leash to walk him around and he doesn't need to stay in his kennel. There are lots of other families here and a good number of them have wheelers for hauling people and nets and fish up and down the beach, but as long as he has a firm hand on his collar he is at least smart enough not to chase strangers wheelers. He can behave. He just loses his damn mind when it's a machine he recognizes.

We have a four wheeler with us, Adak is insufferable and loudly announcing to the entire beach that he's being cruelly oppressed because he's not allowed to eat the engine, or make love to the engine, or have some long and tender yearning romance with the engine, I don't know what goes through that dogs head, all I know is that passersby are looking at me like I'm skining this animal alive because that's what it sounds like.

We also have a boat, a mid size inflatable with an outboard. Our group has six families and it does make sense to show up with everything but the kitchen sink. Harvest from the beach is perfectly fine but dipnetting from a boat is fun.

There is no way the dog is going on the boat. There are too many people, too many moving parts, some of those parts being live flailing fish, and the dog is not going on the boat. Everyone knows this, including the dog. Yes, he's got a thing about boats too.

So what happens is this.

I've got the dog leash. I've already been out on the boat and now I'm taking a break and getting a rest while someone else has a go. The four wheeler is at the head of the beach, after being used to launch the boat. I'm braced against the dog for when the wheeler starts up again and he inevitably lunges for it.

People are loading into the boat at the waterline. While the dog and I are up on the gravel of the beach, they are down in the indescribable glacial river mud, slick as soap and thick as cement.

My sister inlaw comes down the beach, phone for photo taking purposes in one hand, coffee cup in the other, toddler strapped to her chest. She hands me her coffee cup, to better situate her dozing baby.

I take a hand off the leash and accept the cup.

My beloved husband pull starts the engine.

On the boat.

In the water.

I am suddenly 15 feet further down the beach than I was, skidding through the mud, heels digging a trail behind me. It is worth mentioning at this point that I out weigh the dog by a slim margin of about 30lbs. I let go of the leash. I'm not going in that fucking river.

The dog is going in the river. At speed. He's gonna be the first dog to eat a running propeller. In a river.

(Some dogs are smart enough to be current savvy and not endanger themselves swimming in rough waters. Based on the information you know about this dog, what do you think the odds are that Adak is smart enough for that?)

Despite everything, this animal is a beloved family pet and we do not want to see him swept out to Hawaii or his face made into mincemeat. So now there are 2 adult men in chestwaders wrestling this suicidally stupid dog out of the water and away from the running engine. Oh wait, they were in the process of launching the boat into a stiff current. Now they have to pull the dog and the boat back up into the nightmarish morass of glacial mud, were I'm trying not to lose my boots in the calf deep mud so I can grab him again. Someone is shrieking to kill the engine, which is the most sensible course of action so off course no listens.

Thirty seconds ago my dad saw me telling Adak to stay out of the mud. He blinked and missed the initial drama so now he looks back down the beach to see me and my inlaws mudwrestling that same animal out of the water. He is a master of the "not my circus, not my monkeys" mentality, but he's thrilled to see the show. My sister inlaw came to take pictures and record the moment and she's doing just that, with glee and a sleeping baby.

I have the damn dog. I am back on solid footing. I am only mostly covered in mud. I have not dropped or spilled the coffee.

(Most amazing part of this story tbh,thrashed. The coffee never hit the ground, it was one of those nice insulated to-go cups but still)

The boat and it's fishermen are pulling away. I have given up on the leash and have the dog in an armbar around the belly with a fistful of scruff. He doesn't care. He wants so badly on that damn boat that he's fully committed his weight to his hind paws. If I let go of him right now he would biff it on the concrete pad of the boat launch before launching right back into the water. The four wheeler starts up. I do not outweigh the dog by alot but I now have lifted him bodily into the air with all feet off the ground while he squeals and thrashes.

The sound coming out of this animal is what I imagine a whale overdosing on cocaine would sound like. A weasel in a blender. A clowncar demolition derby. A millennia of tortured souls cursed to damnation possessing a kazoo played by a maniac elephant.

People are staring.

Theres a lot of profanity coming out of me. I feel it's pretty justified.

2 and a half minutes later, the boat is gone. The four wheeler is gone. Adak and his stupid doggy brain have calmed down and quit thrashing. He looks up at me with a completely empty skull and a the canine personification of 😄

I'm gonna skin him for mittens

#fish camp #storytelling #dog #Alaska

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