#of their pickaxe too

[captainmvf]

New Mags ref!!!!!! New Mags ref!!!!!!

The older ref I made at least a year ago needed some updates and I wanted to tweak the design a bit. I’m hoping to draw his vivosaurs and some extra doodles next.

Main Team:

Sissy the Coatlus (Gold Skull)

Terra the Teffla (Gold Skull)

Gigantor the Giga Spinax (Gold Skull)

Guinevere ‘Gwen’ the Aopteryx (Silver Leg)

Queen of the Night ‘Queen’ the Krypto (Silver Arm)

Other vivosaurs:

Mari the Megalo (Gold Skull)

Ignus the Daspleto (Gold Skull)

Candy the Zino (Silver Body)

[plain-and-simple-ninja]

i know close to nothing about working in the mines, especially in a fantasy/steampunk setting, but. what was silco even doing there?????

vander? sure, he's an absolute unit of a man, he has HUGE MUSCLES, he could probably dig in the bedrock with his bare hands without breaking a sweat. minecraft steve style

but silco??? SILCO???? walking toothpick silco? this noodle-armed skinny legend? he's a stiff breeze away from flying off ffs

this twink was built either for fashion or for leading a criminal underground empire, not hard labour. what. was. he. doing. in. the. mines.

felicia is more fitted to work in the mines than he is ffs.

seriously someone has to explain it to me asap

[banditblvd]

Every time Mumbo talks about Bdubs or impulse he says their full legal names and I think that’s really great for him

[rozugold]

c!ranboo..... i miss them

THE BOO!!

[puckpocketed]

As someone who’s the go-to prospects blog in my mind, do you have any thoughts on Aron kiviharju dropping to the fourth round? The video the Wild shared after he got drafted is soo interesting to me

"Let me tell you one thing, man; you just made the biggest steal of the draft. I promise you that."

29/06/2024 - The Minnesota Wild draft Aron Kiviharju 122nd overall

Aron Kiviharju was supposed to go 1st overall.

Can you be a bust before you ever get drafted? Can the narrative miasma of going 1st overall linger on someone who went 122nd?

Kiviharju’s first game report from the 2024 EP Draft Guide is dated November 24th, 2019. He was 13 back then. According to them, no other player in EP's database — nor in any other draft guide this year — has had scouts' eyes on them so early, for so long. They say he understands the game beyond what's reasonable for a player his age, that he's always excelled while playing above his year level, that even though he's small and light there's something special about his game. Singular, elite, a phenom. This child is the next big thing. He is 13, 14, 15, he is anointed Boysaviour before his voice has cracked.

How many times have we heard this story before?

One day, Aron Kiviharju will be competing with and against players his age. And when that day comes, it might feel a bit odd for the defenceman. For years, ever since Kiviharju was young, he has played up a level, or two, or three. At age 13, he was playing U16 hockey with TPS Turku and, this past season, as a 15-year-old, he started with TPS’ U18 team before moving on to the U20 club. His numbers – 30 points in 35 games – would be deemed impressive for a 19-year-old forward, never mind a young defenceman who only turned 16 in January.

Steven Ellis' article on Kiviharju for Daily Faceoff, early September 2023, broadens the scope of public scrutiny even further:

Time travel back to 2022, and you'll find his name is printed right next to some familiar faces from this year's draft: Macklin Celebrini, Cole Eiserman, Berkly Catton, Ivan Demidov — except, they're all listed as possible challengers to his assumed throne.

And then, the accident.

The glaring flag on Kiviharju's draft profile, and across every report, every interview, and article since is the reality of his stalled potential. A scout’s job is to project a player’s future, but progress is rarely linear. What might halt a once-promising player's progress? Injuries and global pandemics and a poorly managed season or two; these things don't care for destiny. For every realised prodigy there are a dozen more who will fall short of expectations — this is something you pick up fast reading backdated draft guides and sifting through the history of the NHL.

In Kiviharju's case, the dislocated kneecap and the skate cut to the throat are the things most will write about. Behind the scenes, however, there were evidently other factors that contributed to his drop to the 4th round.

You see, every time I think I've escaped it, the size issue comes back.

The belief remains, however, that larger is better. I’m understating just how much it pervades hockey discourses: it’s present in scouting reports and has had measurable impacts on drafting; I hear it on professional and amateur hockey podcasts; it’s thrown out casually during interviews by coaches and fellow players. I can’t read or listen to anything about Faber without stumbling across it — the preoccupation with size. I’ll be very clear here: I’m not reading anything malicious from specific people, I’m not accusing anyone of crimes, and in no way am I implying that ice hockey is unique here. Just the opposite, in fact. I know professional sports hinges upon producing stars, that the commodification of young bodies is endemic to the business. Those stars are, stripped down to the basest definition, workers who perform with their bodies and sell their labour, whose bodies will inevitably be coveted and revered for their adherence to the Platonic Ideal of their respective crafts. For men’s sports, there’s something extra on top of the commodification of children’s bodies — it’s the vernacular of near-fetishistic worship; of the masculine, the oxymoronic youthful-but-mature, the virile. The language used to praise Faber and other young d-men like him has my stomach twisting in a discomfort that I find hard to quantify — players, coaches, and the media all talk about him, and the hockey blinders slip. He’s a “workhorse”, a “stud”, he’s got “a man’s body” — and call it projecting, call it reading too deeply into innocuous statements, but the closest thing I can compare it to is hearing my AFAB body spoken about as an object whose value can be reduced to its function, its usefulness, its closeness to sexual maturity.

Excerpt from the last time I wrote about a Minnesota d-man (sensing a pattern here).

Kiviharju probably would've dropped some places regardless of his injury and missed time; that's where the league is trending right now in terms of draft preference. When you're small, every mistake is amplified by your lack of size. You must be twice as skilled, faster, more consistent.

p. 595, The 2024 Elite Prospects NHL Draft Guide

Kiviharju's media appearances read like someone who is haunted by his draft stock despite his assertions otherwise.

Kiviharju's bold proclamation, caught on GM Bill Guerin’s hot mic, that the Wild just got "the biggest steal of the draft” will likely be associated with Kiviharju's rise — or perhaps his fall — as Minnesota media and fans work at their mythmaking. I don't know if I want to care about some hockey myths anymore. My appetite for them sours day by day. These myths were started by the eyes and hands and mouths of people watching a boy of 11 play hockey, who witnessed him and salivated at his unwritten future. Part of me thinks: I don't want to be complicit in their continued weaving — though I know I will be anyway.

I read what he says in the lead up to the draft and it's like he's telling himself as he tells us; that he will not care, because he is worth more than this.

From Kiviharju's draft day interview, transcribed by me:

Q: What's the biggest thing you learned about yourself going through the rehab process? AK: Kind of like... it's — life is more than hockey. Hockey is the biggest thing for me. I love the sport. I will do this for the rest of my life, for sure. First playing it, then probably I will continue with hockey after my career, so I've been always thinking like that, and I'm still thinking like that, but it's just that it's — more. Life is more than just hockey, there's a lot of things. And there's a lot of different things about myself, kind of like when you don't — if hockey is my fuel and I'm a car and I'm 200 days without getting any fuel, we have to find some new ways how to get that fuel, to keep my car going. - Q: How has your cut healed since U-18's? AK: Yeah so (he gestures to the cut right below his jawline) that was a pretty close one, but thank God we're alive. That's what I kind of meant when I said that this life is more than just hockey. So first you're 200 days without playing hockey and when you come back your first game the World Under 18's a skate cuts your throat open, so it's very close calls, and that's when you remember that this is only hockey.

Whatever happens, I want Kiviharju to hold on to this. Don't get me wrong, I'm rooting for him. In so many ways, he fits the archetype of players I enjoy. I want him to make it to the show and blow everyone's expectations out of the water and bring Minnesota the Cup. I love this team, even if I rarely post about them. Even still, whether he shoots into stardom or he washes out of the NHL, it doesn't fucking matter. It's only hockey.

And he is more than his ability to live up to our myths.

[cillyscribbles]

universal rules of hema

have fun

be yourself

no mordhau unless in plate armour

no the club cannot afford plate armour no not even one set yeah no we probably can't even get a single piece no really we really can't no because hey because HEY listen to me have you seen how much plate costs do you know how much just this steel longsword cost do you know how many people we hounded just for these sabers no you answer me first

[idlywoolgathering]

putting Lene in the microwave and spinning her so I can really get a good look at all that religious anxiety

[scucouncil-doodles]

no doodle for today since I had some responsibilities that ate up more of my time than expected, but I do have a request for scu nation- send me your favorite scu side characters!!!

anyone who's not the council, from the one and only schlatt to the most random obscure hunter from 100 hunters and anything else or in between, I wanna draw some guests on the blog :D! bonus points for telling me why or what you like about em ^_^

so name em in tags, reply, send an ask, whateva, I just want to draw some beloved side characters in the next week or so <3

[milk-lover]

Grian is so unhinged. At any given point he is entirely ready to conduct psychological warfare on his enemies and allies alike, for seemingly no reason beyond “It would be funny.”

[lelianaslefthand]

how i feel finding a flow tree in palia

[vparka]

I know i'm late and very behind, but... day 1 of trying kinktober!

Prompt: Oviposition! MIDAGUE. (Midas x Montague)

*AO3 link *

Word count: 9.5k.

Warnings: Explicit. AU! Merman! Montague, Human(?)! Midas [[THEY MAY BE A BIT OOC], Fingering, *the eggs*, slick, scents, use of the word alpha, weird mermaid biology (don't ask me, i just listened to the brainworms in my head), not beta'ed. And this probably has some errors I overlooked (english isn't my first language;u; sorry)

💛💎💛💎

Living in a yacht was a relaxing experience, truth to be told. The vista was great, the air was always fresh and clean, add to that the fact that the coast was also the Agency’s territory and it was a perfect place to live in.

Most people would stay away from that side of the beach and the boat– as they should, unless they wanted to be mistaken for an enemy and be killed. So it wasn’t only a beautiful place, but a calm one too. Most days were silent, only the sound of the waves and the fauna could be heard, but if you entered the yacht, numerous meetings were held and many plans were made. Overall, the place was quiet and excellent to unwind.

Or at least that was until a certain sea creature decided it was time to wreak havoc on board whenever he pleased.

“Where’s Midas?” A silky voice asked the first guard he came across, sharp claws digging into the yacht’s paint job; something that would definitely annoy Midas, the owner of the yach, but only if the guard or Montague himself told the owner that he was the one who damaged it. But Montague would never declare himself guilty… and every member of the crew inside the yacht knew better than to annoy the merman.

Being now kind of part of the crew had its privileges, though he sincerely didn't need them much, being a predator whose place was high on the food chain already had the landwalkers walking carefully around him, enough to not upset Montague... but nobody needed to know that Midas had forbidden Montague from eating his crew members. Land walkers still needed to know their place.

The guard who had been scouting ahead with binoculars on the deck jumped, taken aback from the sudden question.

Then he glanced below, noticing a familiar presence.

An ethereal creature that possessed the form of a man, but also fish. Half and half, an existence that was supposed to be part of a fairytale, but instead swam lazily around the yacht with uninterest on dual colored eyes.

A merman.

A very pretty one: short black hair with curtain white bangs, heterochromatic eyes, full lips surrounded by light stubble. His bare chest was impossible to ignore, being a swimming creature had toned his muscles nicely, just as the sun had kissed his skin enough for him to be tanned. He possessed a large, heavy and powerful iridescent white tail, the scales shining like diamonds with the sun, just as smooth and sharp. A deadly beauty.

A breathtaking being who had the Agency’s leader wrapped around his sharp claws.

“Sir.” The guard acknowledged the merman with a respectful nod, then proportioned the information. “Mr. Midas is currently at a meeting in his office. Would you like to be aboard? ”

Such was their closeness that Montague, a maneater predator, was trusted to be inside a vessel full of food without constant supervision.

“I think I’ll wa– ugh.” Before Montague could answer, he grimaced in pain. He bit his tongue hard enough for his fangs to puncture the organ a bit, drawing some droplets of blood. One of his hands immediately went to touch his navel, trying to soothe the area. It didn’t work. “Oui. Get me inside.” 

He hated being onboard: being limited in his movement and having to endure the stares of the crew. Don’t get him wrong, he loved having people admiring his perfect self, they should be awed whenever they saw him, but truth to be told, Montague preferred to take Midas into one of his numerous caves in his territory, just the two of them (and being able to swim freely) but in this occasion it was just impossible.

Montague had fought a lot during his lifetime, especially when he swam by himself all the way from France to the Island, fighting other mermen and sharks during his journey; he wasn’t a stranger to bruises and pain, but this time he couldn’t do it alone, he needed his mate.

The guard nodded and immediately called for others to help Montague get in.

💎💛💎💛

He ended up on Midas’ personal jacuzzi, inside his bedroom on the yacht. It was decent sized, maybe five people could fit in– or in this case, Montague and his large tail, Midas could squeeze in just fine too. In fact, they have done that before; whenever a storm hit the island and Midas couldn’t be outside the yacht, the caves being too dangerous for him in those times.

Even if he couldn’t swim at all, Montague found himself being comfy in the heated and bubbly water, it was great and never failed to make his muscles relax.

Except that this time, the jacuzzi couldn’t ease his pain. Montague’s scent screamed for comfort.

It was that excruciating time again, the dreaded three months after mating season for merpeople, the time to lay eggs so a new generation could be born. Only a mated mer could produce the eggs after mating season, though they were just duds in this case. Montague hadn’t let Midas breed him yet because he wasn’t ready to take care of an entire clutch of tiny versions of them–  and Midas already had his hands full of looking out for his own daughter Jules, a strong young woman but forever the man’s kid. Montague adored her. Still, Midas didn’t know anything about this; their biology was completely different along with the fact that the merman hadn’t bothered to tell him about it. The crime boss probably thought that Montague was like a human male, but it wasn’t like that with merpeople at all: they only had a slit that could either sprout a cock to impregnate someone else, or use the slit to be impregnated; in their relationship Montague took the later role.

This was only Montague’s second time going through this; laying eggs was a painful process if not done correctly, a pain he thought he could survive all by himself but after swimming far away from the yacht the first time he laid a clutch of empty eggs Montague felt like he would die.

Merpeople mated for life; only having one partner during all their entire lifetime, someone they deemed worthy of them, someone who was equally as strong, reliable and that loved them with every inch of themselves just as they did. A powerful connection that could only be broken by death. It was a precious and important ritual for a couple, forming a family was actually expected of a couple after their first spent together mating season.

Intercourse could be done for pleasure just like humans did, but the bite of possession, or often watered down as just the mating bite sealed the deal; a mark that other mer respected with their lives and the only thing that indicated to their body that they had some kind of stability enough to breed and continue with their species. The message was crystal clear, one being belonging to another. Maybe it sounded a bit harsh, even primitive, but mer were incredibly possesive creatures, Montague hadn’t over did it when he bit Midas hard, it was totally justified. A great mate that also turned things into gold? Mer loved being adored and collecting shiny things, he had won the moment when Midas accepted being his human.

Though Montague hadn’t actually expected Midas to bite him first with enough force to puncture Montague’s mating gland on his neck, he didn’t even know how Midas knew about the bite but apparently he did and decided to boldly claim Montague while they had sex a year ago after seeing each other for about three years. The french mer was even more surprised that it actually worked, interspecies couples were rare but it was even rarer that mating worked on them. Montague of course then bit back with ferocity, how could he not claim Midas back? He was way better than any other met Montague had met during his lifetime, though them meeting had been a pure accident.

Which was a fun memory; the yacht had been navigating the ocean three years ago during a mission and Midas had turned something into gold; he dropped it by accident on the waters and Montague mistook it for a courting attempt. Montague had been flabbergasted that a mere low life land-walker had tried to court him, a mythic and perfect creature such as himself, but revealing his presence and embarrassing himself when Midas, in awe at the merman’s presence, denied the courting attempt was a memory that never failed to make him cringe. Still, Midas joking that it was destiny that made them meet made the memory somewhat bearable. 

“Uuugh, merde. Fils de pute.” Montague groaned, closing his eyes and biting his bottom lip as he rested his head on the marble surface of the jacuzzi. Nothing could distract him enough, not even their embarrassing first meeting. The pain would decrease every now and then, turning into a dull one but then it would come back full force, very much like that time a shark bit Montague’s tail when he had been sleeping… but worse. He had never endured this kind of pain before mating Midas, so it was only fair to cuss him right now. Montague was at least owed that.

Not only was it the physical pain of the eggs inside his body that tried to get out of his small slit without succeeding, but the emotional pain as well. The feeling of hopelessness and emptiness of not having his mate at such a vulnerable moment, which became even worse when he remembered that they were unfertilized.

Laying eggs was an intimate beautiful moment for a mer couple, the impregnated mer couldn’t be alone in it, especially in the dangerous ocean waters, the mate should be there to soothe, aid and protect.

But Midas wasn’t there for him. It hurt, horribly so. The first time Montague had swam far away from the yacht, ashamed of his biology and sure that Midas would find it disgusting. He heard from other merpeople that it sucked not having his mate present but he had incredibly underestimated it, the desperation and emotional agony was something he couldn’t endure again. And his slit either, because he had to pull the eggs out one by one all by himself that time, his sharp claws hurting the small opening in the process. 

Never again.

That’s why he returned to the yacht after going missing for three months, right after mating season. Montague thought he could do it alone a second time, but the moment he felt ready the physical and emotional pain came slowly but surely, making him absolutely miserable when it reached its peak. Mindlessly, he found himself swimming towards the yacht with the plan of taking Midas into one of his caves, but he ended up in the man’s jacuzzi, waiting for him.

Hopefully, Midas wouldn’t be as disgusted by Montague as he catastrophizes in his mind.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but Montague guessed it had been a considerable one when he heard the voice of his lover. The merman hadn’t even noticed when his mate had come inside the bedroom.

“Montague?” Talking about the devil. Midas’ deep voice distracted Montague from his pain for a second, his shoes making a subtle noise as he walked towards the merman in his jacuzzi. Midas sat on the edge of the jacuzzi, a golden hand rubbing Montague’s back softly. “You finally came back, my treasure. ” he whispered, taking in the sight of the beautiful merman inside his bedroom.

Montague only groaned as he felt the golden hand touching him, one of his own clawed hands immediately covered his lower body. Montague’s stomach was slightly more round than the last time Midas had seen him, coming back full of eggs suddenly felt too embarrassing again. Full of dud eggs. Not even fertilized, full of life ones. Was it too late to act like nothing was happening and swim as far as he could?

Why was he here, again? 

“Bon après-midi.” He murmured, grimacing as his white tail spasmed of pain, but he still didn’t look at the crime boss. Montague instead opted to stare at a droplet of water that fell on the floor. He was dying to hug Midas, to kiss him and tell him that he missed him too, but the embarrassment was greater.

How would he look at his mate and tell him ‘hey, I ran away because I didn’t want you to see me laying our eggs, but I’m back and I want you to help me this time’ after he left the man for three months?

“I know that you like to travel, but I missed you a lot.” Midas confessed, eyeing the merman with great attention, trying to read his body language, to notice something different. His voice carried a calm tone, but inside himself Midas wanted to ask a lot of questions. “This is the second time you’ve left for such a long time in the same year, you never did before.” An opening so Montague could tell him, Midas desperately wanted to hear the man’s reason for leaving so suddenly, without a single word nor note, after spending such a marvelous night together during the last day of the mer’s rut. It was the second time he did it. Montague had been missing for a total of six months both times combined. It hurt.

They had a connection unlike any other, one that Midas and Montague had never shared with another being: Midas was never a very affectionate man, Montague neither, but they were on the same side, trying to overcome that coldness and stiffness to show the feelings that were already there. They loved each other so much in their own way, they were mates.

To Midas’ understanding (thanks to Jules informing him about merpeople when she found out that her dad was seeing the sea creature) being mates was something far more superior than a human marriage. He wanted that with Montague, but apparently the mer wasn’t as interested as him, if his disappearances without any explanation said something.

Montague remained silent, but Midas’ golden eye caught the sight of the merman’s white tail spasming at the same timeMontague sucked a breath in, his pretty face showing the discomfort.

Alarms rang in the man’s head.

“Are you hurt?” Midas tried to take a peek of the merman’s tail, but there wasn’t a single trace of blood or a cut as far as Midas could see. Montague’s upper body looked fine as well. “Did something happen, Montague? Talk to me.” His voice was soft, but firm.

“I’m okay. Just–” Montague’s eyebrows furrowed, his breath becoming more elaborated. He had been trying to hold it in for an hour but couldn’t do it anymore, he needed to lay his clutch but his slit was still so small. It would hurt like a bitch doing it like this and already knowing himself, he would become even more desperate trying to get thand hurt his body with his claws. He needed his mate. He needed Midas to help him with this. The crime boss couldn’t smell it because he wasn’t a merman, but Montague’s scent was incredibly sour at this moment, the smell of distress inside the room was suffocating even for himself. “Fuck no. It hurts, Midas.”

Absolute worry filled Midas’ face and his touch became even more firm, golden fingers started trying to find a bruise or cut on the merman’s skin, but it was useless. Midas’ worry would be endearing if he wasn’t so uncomfortable, Midas was more a man of action than one to express or tell his feelings, something that came with his line of work.

“What happened? Do you want me to bring a medkit?” The pale human then directed his hands to the shiny white tail, looking now for any bruise there once he noticed Montague’s upper body was fine. His fingers still caressed lovingly the sharp, iridescent scales on his way as he would often do. “Did you eat something that upset your stomach?” He asked once he noticed that Montague was rubbing his stomach insistently, trying to soothe the area.

It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened, Montague liked to show off how strong he was, though the time he ate a poisonous jellyfish had been a little too much.

His stomach was far more developed than a human’s, but still there were things that weren’t that edible even to them.

“I wish it was like that.”

That confused Midas even more.

Montague was the type to ramble on and on when he noticed that Midas was actively listening, he even stopped concealing his accent because he knew Midas liked it a lot. Him talking less than usual was a warning sign.

“Do you want me to take a look?” Midas offered, hands already trying to touch the merman’s stomach. 

Before Montague could argue against that, Midas insistent hands were already on him. In any other context, Montague would be smug about it because of course Midas couldn’t take his hands off of him, he was that captivating… but right now his ego was on vacation, maybe even destroyed. His usual confidence wasn’t accompanying him today actually.

His tail spasmed again when another wave of pain hit, this time he scratched the edge of the jacuzzi with his claws. In any other scenario Midas would frown at Montague damaging his things so carelessly but this time he didn’t, his golden hands instead rubbed soothingly Montague’s stomach as he pressed a kiss on the merman’s neck.

“Food poisoning? I didn’t want to mention it, but your stomach feels a bit more round. Was it a jellyfish again?” 

“It’s not that..” His stomach was in fact rounder, but now knowing that his lover had noticed it made him want to talk about it even less. “I prefer shark.” he bit his bottom lip, fighting the urge to whip violently his tail so he wouldn’t splash Midas with the jacuzzi’s water.

“Perhaps constipated? Last time I saw you, three months ago, “ Even when he was not facing Midas, Montague could feel the man’s icy stare on him. “You were also eating a lot of raw meat, almost no seaweed nor fruits.”

“Fuck you.” Montague’s voice was rough, but decided to fuck it. Fuck everything. They were coming, he needed to do something, he needed to get started. If he tried to hold it again, it would only be worse. Without saying anything more, the merman turned around to face his lover.

There were tears threatening to fall. “It hurts. Just… please.” 

There was no time for explanations, his insides were contracting trying to get the eggs out. Midas wanted to mate him? Well, he should’ve known better. This was part of Montague’s species and he couldn’t do anything but suck it up.

Midas sighed at being cussed at, but directed his hands towards Montague’s hair so he could pet his head; something caught Midas’ attention the moment he noticed it.

The merman’s slit. It was a place Midas knew very well like his own hands, and it was in plain view… but Montague didn’t seem aroused. Quite the contrary actually. Still, he couldn’t help it but murmur:

“Well, aren’t you a demanding pretty thing? A little bold, even… considering that you haven’t apologized yet for disappearing on me after such a special occasion. ” The crime boss continued to observe, curious about why Montague wanted Midas to touch him when he wasn’t aroused.

Montague couldn’t resist it any second more, he loved Midas’ deep voice, he really did, but this wasn’t the time to hold a conversation.

Just as another wave of pain came Montague let his own hands immediately go towards his slit, on the way scratching the sensitive skin of his tail around it. 

“They’re coming, I need them out. “ he whined, closing his eyes as he tried to insert a pair of clawed fingers inside the slit so he could pull out the eggs by himself. Not a second after, Montague hissed in even more pain as his claws poked his soft and sensitive inner-walls. He tried to suck it up and go even deeper, but his hands were removed with great speed.

Midas was looking at him with horror.

He knew Midas would find it repulsive, was what Montague thought.

Midas, on the other hand, couldn’t believe how reckless that move was, he knew first hand how sharp and deadly these claws were, and how sensitive and delicate was Montague’s slit. These two didn’t mix well.

“Montague, what are you doing? Who's coming? I don’t understand.” Midas took Montague’s hands into his own, caressing the fingers in an attempt to calm him down but his eyes remained on Montague’s slit, or more precisely, the skin and scales surrounding it and the tiny droplets of blood that were now painting the beautiful white color. “You’re hurting yourself!”

“The eggs.” Montague couldn’t fight the urge to whip his tail now, so he did it, not caring about soaking Midas. “Out. I want them out, now.”

“... Eggs?” Midas asked, now staring blankly at Montague, still holding the merman’s twitching hands.

Then the merman did something he hadn’t done since their first meetings.

He bared his fangs and hissed at Midas.

“Birth, Midas. “ 

It took the man a full minute to understand Montague’s behavior and words. 

“Mermaids give birth to eggs?” Midas asked with sincere curiosity, but the only response he got was a glare. If that was the case, then it explained Montague’s slightly round stomach and how protective he was of it, but also the pain he was in. “Okay. I have many questions, but I still need your guidance, so–”

“Stretch me, that helps.” Montague demanded as he swallowed hard, removing his hands from Midas’, now clawing on the jacuzzi once again. “It’s so small right now, it hurts.”

Midas had to agree despite the circumstances. 

Montague’s cloaca was small and exquisitely tight inside, but Midas supposed even that had its disadvantages. He couldn’t imagine the small opening giving any kind of birth, but as always, Montague was a creature full of surprises.

Still, Midas understood: there was no time for further explanations. Apparently Montague didn’t give birth like humans did, he laid eggs instead. And… birth? It shocked Midas greatly. Was Montague pregnant? Maybe that was the reason he disappeared out of nowhere. But… the merman had never allowed Midas cum inside, even in their most desperate, clingy sex they ever had.

Maybe the fact that they were different species had something to do with that, but Midas wasn’t really convinced. Their biology wasn’t that different from the little knowledge he had on mer; Montague liked to be an open book whenever he wanted or as closed as the heaven’s gates were for both of them. He had informed Midas a bit of merkind, but nothing as important as this.

Still he directed his golden hands towards Montague’s beautiful tail, the small slit five inches below the merman’s navel. With great care, Midas wiped off the blood staining the iridescent tail, scales very soft and slippery to the touch. Then he rubbed his fingers around the opening, poking softly with just the tip of his gold tainted fingers.

Montague sucked in a breath, but forced himself to relax and not whip his tail, which was larger than his upper body: the thing was pure muscle, extremely heavy, he didn’t want to knock out Midas accidentally a second time (the first time was a funny memory, though).

Midas watched attentively with his golden eye, looking for any sign of discomfort. Montague could hide his expressions very well, but his tail was something he couldn’t control fully. Even when Montague’s face was completely blank or he showed an expression that indicated he was annoyed by Midas, his pearlescent, almost see-through fins would flare and the end of his tail would wiggle a bit. When Midas swam with him around the yacht, Montague would often circle him as if he was a shark but in reality it was closer to bunny behavior. It was truly endearing. He could lie and mask all he wanted, but he didn't have full control of his body, just like Midas would turn things into gold accidentally when his emotions were too much for him to handle.

Noticing that Montague had relaxed just a bit by his touch, Midas pressed more insistently the tip of his fingers, slowly trying to make hid way in. Questions could wait.

“Oviposition then, mn? Not how I imagined us catching up after your vacation, but this certainly will make us closer, my treasure.” Midas let out a deep laugh at Montague’s look of mortification.

His fingers rubbed the slit in small circles; the tip of his fingers still slowly trying to make their way in, which seemed to get the insides slightly wetter and not with blood this time. Montague must be really sensitive right now if he was lubricating himself with the slightest touch, he thought.

“Merde.” The merman whined, biting sharply near his own shoulder. He let out another hiss when he felt Midas stopping, wanting to see if Montague had hurt himself with the bite. His fangs weren’t a joke. “Keep going, open me up.” he urged.

“I’m patching you up after this.” Midas sighed, wanting to do it now so he couldn’t see this majestic being bleeding in his jacuzzi; it still mesmerized him knowing his partner was this beautiful humanoid creature. “Relax, you’re incredibly tight.”

Midas introduced two fingers vertically in a slow pace, caressing the mer’s inner walls: up and down, feeling them up without any rush. Golden tipped fingers tapped on the walls in a playful way then caressing their way to the base of the slit, then going up to the middle and where he positioned his fingers horizontally with great care. Once he did it, Midas then started to pull his fingers out completely, then penetrated the hole again, repeating the entire process, enjoying the velvety insides and the way Montague’s tail and arm fins flared at the touch, his body shivering a bit.

Around the sixth time, Midas then started opening his two horizontally positioned fingers to start stretching him. He needed to get Montague used to the touch first before stretching him, after all. The slick that started being more produced was a nice bonus too.

It was incredibly soft and warm inside, Montague’s natural lubricant made the movements of Midas’ fingers way more easier and slicker. The feeling was pretty erotic.

Montague groaned at the feeling of being penetrated, he wasn’t as full as he would be when they had sex, obviously, but the fingers weren’t easy to ignore either, especially these; Midas was crazy good with them, his fingering technique was truly something else. They were working their way in, trying to stretch him and it just felt incredibly good, almost enough to make him ignore the pain. 

With every second that passed, Midas’ fingers slowly increased their pace, becoming faster and deeper.

“You’re getting so wet.” Midas declared, now trying to make eye contact with his mer. With the hand he wasn’t using to finger Montague, he collected a bit of the slick that gushed out with the tip of a finger: wordlessly, he licked it clean. “Delicious, as always.”

Montague didn’t need to be told, he knew. He felt it, he could now hear it. The slick and the quick pace Midas was fingering him with gave place to a lewd slapping sound they were very familiar with, though it wasn’t as loud as it usually was.

Montague moaned, both at the memory of their last time having sex and the feeling of these wonderful golden fingers working him open.

“Oh, fuck.” Mindlessly, Montague’s grip on the jacuzzi got tighter, puncturing the material and leaving small stretch marks. “Ç-ça fait du bien, baby.” It was a shame Midas would never be able to smell it, but in a few minutes, Montague’s scent had gradually changed from an acidic great distress to a sweeter arousal. 

“You like it?” Midas licked his lips, adding a third finger and repeating the initial process. He would never get tired of these warm walls hugging tightly his cock or his fingers; or when Montague decided to use his own cock, this very precious slit let him see it, touch and suck it. Midas loved whenever Montague wanted to rub their cocks together as well. 

Montague’s cock was slightly different from his actually: it was white, almost like his tail and the length had small spikes over it (they weren’t like real ones, they actually gave Midas a ticklish feeling) overall, it had a similar appearance to Midas’. The difference was incredibly erotic to the crime boss, a reminder that he was the ethereal creature’s mate.

Montague bared slightly his neck the moment a deep thrust of the golden fingers reached even more deeper, making him groan out loud… but Midas, being just a human, didn’t notice it right away as another mer could. Submission. Midas didn’t know, but he was Montague’s alpha. He surely would be one if he was a merman too, just like Montague was an alpha mer: the reason why he had been flabbergasted when he assumed a simple landwalker (Midas back then) had tried to court him with gold. The reason why Montague had an attitude whenever they had an argument: Midas liked to be right, Montague would feel as if his mate was fighting him for dominance: he already let himself be ‘bitched’ as other mer would vulgarly call it, but he wouldn’t let his mate fight him on that, he made sure of it. Montague was a prideful mer alpha.

Good thing was, despite them being hard to deal with individually, they worked well together. 

Montague bared even more his neck, moaning as now four fingers stretched him out. He hadn’t noticed when Midas had added one more, but now he felt it, he felt how Midas was scissoring his fingers inside him. 

“That’s it, yeah… look at you, so wet and open now.” Midas continued fingering him, every now and then pulling his fingers out so he could soak them with the slick that gushed out, staring at them as he separated his fingers, enjoying how strings of slick connected his golden fingers, only to press them inside Montague again, sloppily penetrating him. “Do you think you’re ready? Or just a bit more?”

“A bit more, aagh.”  The mer then tried to get close enough to circle his hands around Midas’ neck, who was still sitting on the edge of the jacuzzi.

Midas, noticing that, decided to get into the jacuzzi so the proximity would make it easier. He still needed to help Montague get the eggs out. When he pulled his fingers out and took a couple steps behind, Montague looked at him in a way Midas wasn’t prepared for. His eyes were glassy and his eyebrows almost flat, his full bottom lip trembled. Hurt.

“I’m gonna get into the jacuzzi with you, we’ll be closer.” Midas explained briefly, quickly removing his black dress pants, vest and white button-up along his gun holsters; only being left with his dark, tented boxers.

It would be a crime to not be aroused when he had been fingering his love and enjoying the sinful expressions on the man’s face. You couldn’t blame him.

“Be quick, last time there were three of them.” Montague lowered his gaze, his tail twitching in nervousness, though his scent had just gotten stronger; he still felt uncomfortable and in pain, but at least his hole was stretched; the arousal had helped in dilating his insides, almost enough to start pushing the eggs out.

Midas nodded as he entered the jacuzzi, but stopped when he heard Montague.

“Last time? This isn’t the first time you lay eggs?” Midas was surprised, when did Montague do that? And why hadn't he told him? To Midas’ understanding, Montague had to participate in something sexual to do that. Or… not? He wasn’t exactly open about mer biology. “... were they ours? Or…”

“Yeah, ours. Later.” Montague closed his eyes, his tone urgent in wanting to change the topic and continue. They were about to pull his second clutch out, but he wasn’t ready to tell Midas they were empty. There was no life inside them.

He didn’t want to admit it but that played a huge role in the emotional pain he felt. He was, in human terms, birthing but his eggs were empty, not fertilized. No mini Montagues nor mini Midas inside them. In normal mer couples, they should be. But they weren’t, he wasn’t even sure if they could be fertilized if he let Midas breed him at some point.

Empty duds were just a signal that he was a failure.

He knew that and still had taken care of his first clutch in one of his caves underwater whenever he wasn’t with Midas near or on the yacht. He knew they were empty the first time and still had grown attached, only for them to never hatch.

“Okay, let’s continue then. “ Midas sat on Montague’s tail, straddling him, sighing as he felt the heated crystal clear water of the jacuzzi relax his own muscles. The position made this way easier and intimate, being face to face so he opted to stay like that; then Midas started kissing Montague’s cheek, the stubble on the mer’s skin poking his own softly. Midas made his way to the merman’s jaw and went lower, making sure to bite and suck on his neck, leaving love bites wherever he could reach. His golden hands immediately resumed their work, four fingers slowly entering the mer’s hole and fingering it. Sweet and sensual first only to quicken the pace as the seconds passed.

Montague let out a variation of moans: tiny and barely audible ones when he felt Midas’ fingers caressing the warm and slickened walls on their way out; loud and whinier, sometimes incredibly deep ones when golden fingers penetrated the hole again and again, reaching deeper every time. 

When Midas scissored them, Montague would respond by tightening his walls and gushing out more slick.

With his other hand, Midas started touching Montague’s pecs, knowing very well that the mer loved it when he did that; he cupped and massaged a pec, groping it the exact moment his other hand went deep inside Montague, the tips of his fingers touching something very firm but very slippery.

“Oh, god. Midas, Midas.” This was it; Montague moaned loud as his lover’s fingers reached even deeper, his stomach contracting at the feeling: the movement making him feel that something inside had moved.

Midas had touched an egg.

The mer was dilated and slicked enough that he hadn’t noticed when the womb he had developed the first time he let himself be bitched had pushed out the first egg.

He hadn’t noticed it.

This was already very different from the first time, which had hurt like hell and left him incredibly swollen and bloody.

This wasn’t. It hurt at the beginning along with the contractions, but it wasn’t as bad. He hoped it stayed like that.

“It’s coming, mmgh. Continuez, s’il v-vous plaît, mon coeur.”

Midas just hummed, delighted at hearing Montague’s breathless and slightly deeper voice.

He continued gathering enough slick to push inside, scissoring the warm walls as he waited for Montague to tighten his insides so the egg was pushed out a little bit more, that way Midas could pull it out carefully with his fingers. While he waited for that to happen, Midas leaned enough to suck on the closest nipple on Montague’s chest, groping the other pec at the same time.

Midas’ tongue immediately showered with immense attention the small brown bud, sucking harshly and biting softly. After some seconds, his sucking and groping were as unforgiving as the fingering.

Montague shivered as he felt small tears drop from his dual colored eyes. All of the stimulation was too much, but too good. He had missed this terribly.

Would Midas have done this the first time?

“Of course, Montague. My precious mer...”

Montague cried out when Midas’ tongue continued its assault on his nipple, his other hand pinching the other brown bud; along with the wet and sloppy penetration, all of these combined had his mind going blank. He could only feel.

Montague’s sudden hiss made Midas pause for a second, thinking he had hurt him with how rough he was going. He couldn’t say something because Montague quickly beat him to it.

“It’s stuck.” The mer whined.

“No, my treasure, it isn’t. You already have done this, just take a deep breath in and try. ” Midas stopped his obscene touch on one of Montague’s pecs and instead lowered his hand, touching the area around his navel. “I didn’t know you could get… pregnant.” Midas murmured as he got closer to the mer’s face, pressing small, sweet kisses on his jaw. Then he started caressing the skin slowly. “But you look beautiful. You’re truly wonderful, you know that, right? Unreal. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Montague looked at him with incredulity.

There was no way a man cold as ice as Midas was sweet-talking to him like that.

The man usually kept these thoughts to himself as far as Montague knew, often he would just demonstrate it but… it was endearing. Comforting, even, just hearing these words.

But maybe it wasn’t that difficult to believe in reality, after all. He was a great father to his daughter Jules– he still didn’t look like a poster family man, though. 

Montague’s inner alpha purred loudly at that. Maybe it also wasn’t bad being sweet-talked to like that.

“I didn’t know you could purr like that. Meowscles does that a lot when he sun bathes on the deck.” Midas added mindlessly, pressing a kiss on Montague’s navel, fingers still deep inside stretching him out.

Montague blushed and whipped his tail enough to soak Midas a little bit.

He didn’t appreciate the human mentioning others when they were doing something like this, it felt wrong.

Midas let out a deep, breathy laugh.

“Okay.” He continued pressing kisses, sucking the skin around Montague’s adonis belt, making sure to leave lasting hickeys. 

He didn’t care that the others in the yacht saw Montague shirtless when he was around, the reason being that the merman often was covered in Midas’ lovebites and at his side.

Okay, maybe he was a bit jealous when they stared a bit too much, but everyone already knew that the ethereal creature was literally Midas’ husband in human terms. “Breathe deep and try again, I think I almost have it.” 

Montague just nodded, not trusting in his voice to break.

This was supposed to be a beautiful moment, laying his eggs with his mate… but he felt a bit guilty as he found himself feeling horny thanks to the penetration and Midas’ wonderful mouth on his body.

Still, Montague did as he was told. Took a deep breath in and put pressure on his belly, whining in pain and pleasure as his lover’s fingers reached deeper again.

“Golden f-fingers, huh?” He couldn’t help but try to joke to distract himself, trying again to put pressure.

This time the first egg felt bigger than the ones from his first clutch.

Midas snorted and bit lovingly at Montague's left hip.

“Very funny.” 

Slowly but surely, the first egg touched the tips of Midas’ fingers inside Montague’s hole.

The mer was whining and moaning in an incredibly lewd way that it almost distracted Midas from the objective multiple times, only the feeling of the egg on his fingers maintaining him sane enough to focus. Midas’ erection was uncomfortable inside his tight tented boxers, he bet they weren’t only wet thanks to the jacuzzi’s water, but also pre. But it wasn’t the time to jerk off, even if he really wanted to.

Sometimes Midas refused to believe that one time where Montague told him that sirens didn’t exist and that he wasn’t one of them because they didn’t exist, duh; just a drunk sailor fairytale. Sirens in the media sang beautifully and were deadly, maneater creatures, mermaids on the other side were docile and sweet. For Midas, Montague was a siren: one that had captivated him like a siren would do to a sailor.

Montague’s already hugely inflated ego didn’t need to know that yet, though.

“That’s it. Just a bit more.” Midas informed the mer, stopping the fingering and instead placing three fingers wherever he could on the slippery egg with a firm grip. “Can you do that, love?” He stopped kissing Montague’s adonis belt and instead looked up, trying to make eye contact. “You almost have it, you’re doing so well…” another kiss was pressed on his navel.

“I’ll try.” His face contorted in pain as he did. This time the egg was definitely bigger than the first time, no doubt about that. Montague almost feared it would be too big and he wouldn’t be able to pull it out. He had heard stories about it. No, he shouldn’t think negatively. What you feared you attracted, or something like that Valeria (a fellow mer and his friend) had once told him when they were navigating Orca infested waters once.

No. Think positively.

Montague let out small gasps and continued: he had Midas, his mate, there for him. He wasn’t alone in one of his farthest caves all alone, hurting himself with his claws on cold waters, drawing blood and fearing sharks would find him in that vulnerable moment. No. This time he was on a heated jacuzzi with his mate aiding him carefully, trying to calm him down.

And Midas wasn’t disgusted by him.

With a loud cry, Montague tried again and this time his inner-walls tightened enough for the egg to be pushed out a little more: with the help of Midas’ fingers inside, he pulled the egg out slowly, trying to not hurt his mer. Finally. 

Once Midas pulled it out, he observed the egg and his mate’s gaping hole, internally awed at Montague’s excessively produced slick, which not only was delicious on his tongue, but also had helped greatly: the egg was about the same size as Midas’ hand: in normal circumstances  it should have hurt a lot more, perhaps even hurting the mer… that if Montague hadn’t lubricated himself as he did.

The egg was pearly white and had something Midas couldn’t point, but it seemed almost… iridescent? Like Montague’s tail. it was… pretty. It was really pretty.

Midas held it with great care, maybe it wasn’t like a human birth but it was one nonetheless. 

He felt a smile taking over his face.

Until he heard Montague’s panic.

“What?! Only… o-only one?” His eyes looked frantically at the egg on Midas’ hands and his belly. The slight roundness was gone and he didn’t feel as full as he had in the beginning. This may have been only his second time, but he knew the feeling of his eggs being inside him very well. He had carried them three months inside, his body forming them after all. He was empty, there weren't any other eggs inside. “Just… one.”

“You can have more?” Midad asked carefully, not knowing how Montague would react. He looked very different from just seconds ago, almost sad, angry.

Montague’s bottom lip trembled at the question. Midas didn’t know because Montague hadn’t gone into deep details about merpeople with him, it wasn’t his fault, but the question hurt him. Yes, he could have more. He should have. A healthy, fertile mer could lay up to six eggs. He had three the first time. This second time he had only one.

They were just duds, lifeless eggs… but he had three. And now he had only one.

He knew he hadn’t let Midas breed him because guppies weren’t something they had discussed yet, but knowing he wasn’t laying fertilized eggs and was having fertile problems hurt something in his more animal side. His humanoid side could understand why that was happening and that his choices were the cause of that: he hadn’t the most healthy diet even before last mating season, so maybe that was the cause, the eggs needed more nutrients; but his feral side didn’t understand that. It couldn’t reason, it just felt.  Thankfully, he could somewhat control himself, any other mer would have gone crazy and on a killing spree just out of spite and fury right now.

Montague bit his lower lip and tightly shut his eyes, not wanting to look at Midas and the egg. His mate probably thought a mer guppy would hatch off in six months or so.

He couldn’t bear Midas’ disappointment right now.

After a couple of silent minutes, the mer felt his mate sitting next to him, a tattooed arm circling around his shoulders.

“It’s very beautiful, don’t you want to hold it? I already washed the slick off of it, it should be less slippery.” Midas offered the egg to the mer, watching attentively how the mer started crying. Midas felt confused. Mer didn’t celebrate a birth like humans did? They were parents now, to Midas’ understanding. Very sudden, but they were adults already. Maybe Midas’ line of work wasn’t the ideal, but the waters were also dangerous. Montague was scary when he wanted to be and killed very easily, Midas had guns: they wouldn’t ever struggle financially with Midas’ golden touch. Maybe they needed to work more on their emotions, but they were fine. He had already raised Jules all by himself and she turned out to be a wonderful, strong woman; Midas had some parenting experience, surely their little… mer baby wouldn’t be too difficult.

“Get that thing far away from me unless you want me to break it.” Montague growled, refusing to look at them. He didn’t even want to see Midas’ soft expression as he held the empty egg. He would only yearn for the impossible, for it to be fertilized and then raise the hatchling with his mate. It would hurt even more. Just no.

Midas frowned at Montague’s defensiveness.

He didn’t… want the egg? For what reason? They were mated, Montague had bit him back so of course the merman wanted him, mer didn’t play about their mates, Montague himself had warned Midas when he asked how to court him. But why was he rejecting their egg? He didn’t want to raise a kid with him? 

“That was very rude of you, Montague. That would be… killing.” Midas’ incredulity could be heard in his voice. “Would you kill your own kid?”

“It isn’t alive, it’s not killing. Flush it down the toilet or make it an omelet… if that is even possible. I don’t care.” the mer growled again, refusing to turn. Tears started to fall down again, wetting his cheeks.

“I can’t believe what you’re saying, you–”

“It’s empty! An empty shell, it’s not alive!” Montague then turned, facing Midas, refusing to be scolded. His inner alpha wanted to cry, he was once again going through the emotional pain of not being able to take care of his clutch because they didn’t exist. “Je suis un échec! A failure! That’s what you wanted to hear, right?”

He usually was calmer and more reasonable than this. But with something so personal that hurt deeply… he wasn’t in his right mind right now. Midas shouldn’t provoke him unless he wanted to get bitten for real and the human knew that very well, Midas had seen him hunt a shark with only his fangs once.

“Empty? This one isn’t alive?” Midas looked at the pretty egg, then at his mate. Montague had never exploded like this emotionally, so his words must be true. The tears falling off his pretty eyes only confirmed it further. “Like chickens? It’s a… dud?”

“Yeah.” 

“Oh, my precious mer.” Midas unexpectedly didn’t yell at him nor reacted harshly, instead he… hugged Montague? and let Montague rest his head on the tattooed shoulders? Then he felt numerous kisses being pressed on his temple. 

Midas wanted to cuddle the merman and not let him go. To his understanding, this was the second time Montague passed through this, the first time should have left him scarred deeply enough for him to act this way and reject his egg because it pained him to look at it, which was an extremely depressing scenario to think about.

Being the mer equivalent of human pregnancy only for your creation to not be alive in the end. What an evil, sick joke. Montague had been missing for three months, so that should be the time he was gestating this egg all by himself. Where had he been when his mate had gone through this the first time? If Midas thought about it and looked for the similarities, maybe the first time had been months before the last mating season.

Montague had said he was a failure… but perhaps the failure was Midas, who hadn’t noticed his mer had been in great pain.

Of course he went crazy looking for Montague, he even bought scuba dive gear for himself and the members of the Agency so they could help him on a search party, but they had never found the sneaky merman. Every day for two and a half months, for hours, each time that the mer had disappeared, unless they had a mission they couldn’t postpone. Perhaps Montague knew Midas would go looking for him, so maybe he went deeper into the water where humans couldn’t go thanks to the pressure of the water, or maybe he even had left the island. Midas didn’t know, but didn’t doubt it, Montague was always a master of doing the unexpected just because he wanted to.

“You’re not. You didn’t know.” Montague murmured, sniffling and opening the palm of one of his hands, finally wanting to touch the egg. “I didn’t want you to know, because they’re not fertilized.”

He thought out loud, it seemed. Still, Midas continued kissing Montague’s temple, with the arm he had around the merman’s shoulders he pulled him closer: golden fingers now caressing the iridescent white scales on his shoulders. He wanted to soothe the merman, going through all of that alone… he was incredibly strong, but the weight was too heavy.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, Montague. You know you can lean on me, right? That’s what mates are for.” Midas deposited the egg on the mer’s hands, watching intently. The egg and Montague’s tail were almost the same color… if they had a mer baby, would the baby possess Montague’s diamond like tail and scales?

“I know…” Now he did. After examining the dud egg, he returned it to Midas, not wanting to get attached again. “You can do whatever you want with it.”

“You don’t want it?”

“Duds dissolve after a month in water, ” Montague sucked in a breath, not wanting to talk about how he had watched two of his first clutch dissolve right in front of him, how desperate he’d been to reunite the incredibly delicate thorn pieces… only for the pressure of the water to disappear the remainings into nothing. “and they fall apart after four months here, on the surface, so…” the remaining egg from his first time. Montague had swam all the way to an empty tiny island to get it out of the water, not wanting it to dissolve too; he kept it there well hidden and protected, often visiting it after spending his day with Midas’ only to return one time and find nothing but pieces of it on the sand. They didn’t last forever. “You can do whatever you want with it.”

Midas wanted to comfort him about that, but Montague’s glare was clear, he didn’t want Midas to mention something about it because the mer himself didn’t want to talk more about it. The human nodded and took the egg into his hands, after thinking for a couple seconds an idea came into his mind.

“Its natural course is to disappear. “ Midas nodded, keeping quiet for a bit, not knowing if what he was about to propose would be seen as incredibly inappropriate or even disrespectful, but he was desperate to help in any way he could.” … But if there was something you could do, would you take the opportunity and be selfish enough to preserve it even if its appearance changed?”

Montague thought about it mindlessly but the realization hit him instantly when he noticed how delicately Midas was holding the egg, almost as if it was a treasure.

Was he… offering to turn it into gold? 

Montague didn’t have to think about it twice.

“Do it. Turn it into gold, please.”

Anything to preserve it.

Midas stared at him, trying to find a single trace of doubt- if there was, he wouldn’t do it. It was their egg, something that was a product of their love even if it was empty inside, but he wanted Montague to be firm about his decision. If it was turned into gold… the beautiful color it was birthed by Montague would change, along with the softness and warmth: it would turn golden and heavy, cold. But forever preserved. 

“Midas, do it.”

Midas didn’t see any single trace of doubt in Montague’s fiery dual colored eyes, so he kept the eye contact and let his golden touch work, the egg slowly turning into gold. Montague’s gaze lowered, seeing his own creation become a statue like the ones Midas kept laying around the yacht. 

Once the egg was fully turned into gold, Midas offered it to Montague, who took it carefully.

Before Montague could say something, Midas hugged him tightly, not letting him go.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t reliable enough for you to come to me the first time. It hurts me deeply, but I trust you had your reasons, whatever they were. “Midas said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t know what made you return, but I’m grateful about that. Please talk to me when something happens.”

“No, no. I just… I had the wrong idea.” Montague admitted, placing the golden egg on his tail and hugged back Midas. Then he tried to joke to lighten up the mood because it was extremely depressing right now. “Well, these are a lot of feelings right there. Who are you and what have you done to my stone cold Midas? Are you an impostor? perhaps a clone?” And it was depressing, he would probably spend an entire month mourning his egg, but this time he had Midas with him… and an indestructible golden egg.

Midas let out a small laugh.

Was it really that rare for him to express his sincere feelings? He knew both of them weren’t exactly the idealized couple, but they were trying.

“I’d really like for you to be more open to me.” Midas squeezed his mer reassuringly, not breaking the hug yet. “I love you, Montague.”

“Don’t say that right now, makes me want to actually try for a fertilized egg.” And it was the truth. This soft side of him was rare, but extremely welcomed- something Montague hadn’t admitted outloud yet, along with the fact that Midas hadn’t been disgusted by Montague and his egg, instead he had helped during the process and even seemed quite content with the idea of having to take care of the egg with him before Montague told him it was a dud; plus he already was a father, the man had raised his human daughter, surely he would be just as an excellent father for a pod of their own as he was with Jules.

Montague purred at the idea of them raising an entire pod. He had never considered himself a family man either, in fact, he never thought about having kids, but he knew he liked them. Well, Jules wasn’t exactly a kid, but she had been his stepdaughter the moment he mated Midas. Surely that counted, right?

“How do you fertilize an egg?” Midas asked with curiosity, smiling when he heard Montague’s purring. He had an idea, but knowing Montague as he did, it was better to never assume: Montague always found a way to surprise him anyway.

“By breeding me.” 

“Breeding…?”

“Yeah, cumming inside, especially during mating season, duh.” Montague let himself grin, noticing how Midas tensed. The man always asked to cum inside, but Montague would deny him every time, even going as far as biting him playfully to stop Midas from asking a second time. Montague wanted to, but he never really tracked the days after a full moon where the chances of fertilizing an egg would be close to zero, he was way too lazy to do that. Maybe he should start, though. Knowing what he did, he murmured. “I love you too, Midas.”

C'est tout!

The end :) 💛💎

[aria0fgold]

Playing minecraft singleplayer isn't usually this fun but as a system it got really fun in a way where it also simultaneously fixes my horrendous sleep sched by being so lenient with the use of creative mode from time to time.

[shrapnarl]

.

quick dreamsnso i can find them later

[thursfys]

So, uh,,

I made a reference-

[savefrog]

All you need to know about me was written in a speech assessment from when I was in preschool where the writer specifically noted that I "Got really mad when other kids drew dinosaurs incorrectly" and "Did not contribute to a conversation on sports".

I found this paper only recently and it certainly hurt to see how little ive changed lmao

[datmoongamer]

I got the "scout but he can't move it move it" mod