The Nib ( @thenib ) is doing a whole month of queer comics and I was honored to contribute this one! You can read all of the other comics I’ve done for them here, and here is my comic from last year’s Pride Month. You can find more of my comics, including my Genderqueer series, on instagram and you can support me on patreon or on ko-fi if you’d like to help me keep making this work :)
Red flags: Unbelievable nature you've never seen before!, no external source cited, low image quality could be hiding AI artifacts, lacks scientific name for plant, OP is an aesthetic blog (no offense, I see you credit most of the artists you post, OP <3).
Green flags: Common name of the tree provided (although the leaves don't look like any olive tree I've ever seen).
Reverse image searches and citation trails all seem to lead back to now-deleted Reddit posts. Google Images says it's this one in r/NatureIsFuckingLit, and TinEye says it's this one in r/interestingasfuck. Both were posted back in 2020. This is important because the rise of AI images was in 2022.
People in the comments of places this image is posted throw around botanical terms like "dichotomous branching" [branches split into two at the nodes] and "divaricated" [branches grow far apart from each other], which are cool, but don't tell me what the tree is.
Searching up "Black Olive" on iNaturalist finally got me some answers, and it turns out that YES. This is a real tree! This tree is a Dwarf Black Olive (Terminalia molinetii, Formerly Bucida spinosa). The above photos are some particularly nicely framed shots of a tree with particularly small leaves, which really highlights the branching structure. I really wish we knew the photographer's name. Here are some more photos of the same species:
Terminalia molinetii by jriveracruz50 on iNaturalist, posted under a CC BY-NC 4.0 license.
This tree is native to Southern Mexico, Belize, the southern tip of Florida, and Cuba. Dwarf Black Olives are completely unrelated to Olive trees in the Olea genus that I'm more familiar with (the former is in Order Myrtales [Myrtles, Evening Primroses, and Allies], and the latter is in Order Lamiales [Mints, Plantains, Olives, and Allies]).
Stay critical, and –more importantly– curious, y'all! The world is a beautiful place, we don't need fictional plants passed off as real ones for that to be true.
here’s a picture of a baby cedar waxwing begging for food from a robin. neither of these species are nest parasites, so it’s not possible the cedar waxwing was ‘adopted’. this is essentially the bird version of tapping a random person on the shoulder at the grocery store and going “MOM”
Robin is bathing which make’s it even funnier. More like the equivalent of a strange kid barging in while you’re taking a shower and demanding you make them mac n cheese right now
I can't bring myself to represent war with a cool knight. It's horror. War is a bound child crowned with shrapnel, tied to a wounded horse that is being pulled forward by unseen people.
Who else could depict, the one, the only, Big Mama, other than @garbagemilkshake
Rated: Explicit
Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it, Menstruation, There WILL NOT be any Miscarriages
Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.
Also available on Ao3
First 💜 Previous
Coral had done it.
You guessed maybe you shouldn’t have been so surprised.
She did a lot when you left her to her own devices.
She had always planned Lake Day.
She had done a kick ass job keeping people in line at the wedding.
She was a force to be reckoned with whenever she decided on something and that was her given character trait.
You sat in the eye of the storm of your baby shower.
Around you were microcosms of activity. To your immediate right, Coral and Spencer’s wife, Gina, were in a heated discussion about the diaper game. Though the activity could be played out in several ways, in its essence, it involved melted chocolate and the cradle of a diaper. When Coral was planning, she deemed the activity dumb and gross. She had pretty much forgotten about it after that right up until Gina wondered where it was. When Coral shared her opinion, the older woman gave a horrified gasp as if it was some hallmark tradition and the two had been bickering about it off and on ever since.
You preferred Coral’s side but they were sort of amusing to listen to.
It wasn’t like you were starved for entertainment. Though you had thrown a few board game nights in this very apartment, Coral’s research seemed to find that most people, herself included, thought enforcing attention on a game was too much trouble at a party. You were promised a lighthearted event which meant disrupting the flow of conversation was taboo. Coral ruled out competition as a whole as soon as she found out about your placenta previa. Instead, she had set up stations that people could calmly engage with games if they so pleased.
Straight across from you was a baby board that you were glad had been made into a centerpiece. It was a simple game in which Coral had asked guests to supply their baby pictures. Those photos were then plastered into a collage and were only marked with numbers. An available key was printed on each blank sheet of paper with lines to guess. If you correctly matched all the babies to their adult attendees, you won. You weren’t sure what the prize was yet, but Kaleb was determined to win it. He had been standing by the board for a good twenty minutes. A few people had come and gone during his duration, but he wasn’t going to move until he analyzed even the blurriest snapshot.
It brought your head southward, where your husband and Raph were standing at the gift table. Similar, but unlike Kaleb, Donnie had parked himself there with the one variable he could control. Coral had apparently temporarily blocked his number and all subsequent ones after he sent one too many unsolicited safety recommendations. That left him only with the gift registry, which he had enforced with an iron fist. Coral couldn’t pick your presents for you and thus had been forced to hand that much over. You felt like you had blacked out when you added your requests because everything had been deemed too adorable by your baby blinders. Donnie had the wherewithal to check what was necessary, recommended, or vetted and it had taken all his self-control to not hack what he described as a ‘pathetic interface’ to find out what each person had ordered. He had been restrained for too long from the looks of it and was currently scanning each package with his glasses. It seemed like Raph was standing watch in case Donnie tried to throw a gift deemed unfit away before it at least entered your hands. You would need to thank him later, but until then, good smells were still coming from the kitchen.
The next person who had been given some leeway in planning was Mikey. As the de facto caterer, he had outdone himself. He had taken the humble kitchen in what had long now been your old apartment and turned it into a stunning buffet. From an afternoon tea’s worth of little pastries to entire slabs of ribs, he deemed it the baby’s delight. He apparently got a kick out of the idea that the patrons of a baby shower should get as messy as a baby while eating and anything with BBQ would get them there. Coral had somehow acquired personalized wet wipes to go with the whole spiel and you had made sure to nab one as a keepsake.
It matched the shower favors, which included a cutesy bag of toiletries. There was some sort of tie in about parent-to-bee with honey BBQ sauce and honeycomb shaped soaps, but you cared little. The idea was little more than buzzing decorations that connected your party guests in spiraling flight lines. Behind you, Hypno had started bartering with a few of your other friends in a Price is Right-style. He had decided he would man a game in which the costs of common baby products were to be guessed. He was a decorated host that held everyone’s attention with his showmanship and disturbed Nelson, who had his face squeezed behind a bookshelf and the wall.
“Doubt a paci’ would be back there, mate!” Hypno griped at the interruption.
“It’s Coral! It could be!” Nelson snapped as he continued his egg hunt.
It was the third total passive game. You felt for Nels since the man had been kicked out of his own home while Coral set it up. Pacifiers were hidden around the apartment and tagged with letters. It helped discourage people from taking them, as the name of the game was to gather up enough letters to spell some baby-related phrase. Like the other stations, the filled out forms were being collected in coordinated baskets. Eventually, Coral would tabulate the scores and the two with the highest passing grades were going to have some final game.
You were excited to see what it was.
Almost as excited as you were to see what those onesies were going to dry like.
Outside, on the sparse balcony of Coral and Nelson’s apartment, was a quaint tie-dying station. It marked the only non-competitive and artistic activity. It was meant to help you decide on the baby’s color as only mixes for purple were requested. Most people had taken their turns dying various onesies a shade they hoped was good enough and the finished ones were hung and drying on a makeshift line.
They would dry lighter, you kept reminding yourself.
What you saw now wasn’t going to be the end result.
It felt very much like your baby.
Those sketchy ultrasound photos weren’t cutting it.
You wanted to see them.
You were having fun, but you were tired.
You were too cozy to move, but you wanted it to be over.
You wanted a good night’s sleep.
You wanted to hold your baby.
You wanted more of those ribs.
You wanted some water.
You were happy.
Amidst all the errant thoughts, you were filled with joy.
The party was exactly what you needed, even if it was probably a little too close to your due date. You felt reassured both in everyone who had shown up and that they were all seemingly having a wonderful time. Everything you could have ever asked for was right at your fingertips and you lounged amongst the festivities.
Your mind drifted and the only thing you wondered about was just how many songs with ‘baby’ in the chorus were on the playlist that was quietly going from some well placed speaker. Since you hadn’t been focused on the playlist you counted up to twelve by your memory alone when there was a thump in time with the beat, but a little louder than it should have been. Before you looked, you bet Donnie had finally broken free of Raph and pulled some supposedly spoiled egg from the gift basket, but when you cracked an eye to check, you found both men with their attention painfully pinned to the door.
Coral noticed and broke away from Gina. “Who is it? Everyone’s already here.”
“Don’t open it.”
“It was the wind!”
Donnie and Raph both demanded and pleaded.
“What’s going on?” Mikey piped up from the kitchen.
Raph hissed at him to hush.
There had always been something to that sound.
A reactionary conditioning that caused everyone who heard it to heed.
Within seconds everyone had gone still.
They were all looking at the door.
The music was cut.
The stagnant air weighed on your moment as only you observed your husband.
His hackles were up.
Who would warrant that?
Splinter had politely excused himself from the party.
He loudly said that he preferred to play with an actual child then drum up dummy excitement when the baby wasn’t here yet.
He had prepared a nice gift, Mikey had told you.
Draxum wasn’t invited.
You were neither close enough nor would the old goat want to come to what he would probably call a human charade.
Leo was too busy to attend.
With the other two brothers here in some capacity, it only felt right to invite the final Hamato son. You weren’t sure if he perceived the request of his attendance as pity, but you did believe he was busy. For whatever reason, whenever it came up, Leo was at the hospital and that wasn’t work you dared to interfere with.
Everyone else had responded ‘no’ to their invitations.
If that left only nefarious interference then whoever was dumb enough to crash the party needed to be prepared.
Two of New York’s heroes and two of New York’s villains were here.
There were a slew of human witnesses beside that.
If anything, this was momentarily one of the most secure locations in the entire state, but someone was threatening that by their mere existence.
The knob clicked in a way that you knew was from someone unlocking it.
Coral shot to her feet.
Raph moved first.
Leo had once told you that he was the perceived tank.
Mikey was the real one.
Without Leo that meant your husband would be the one to go on offense.
You saw him ready himself.
Mikey twitched, a split second preparation for his opening as the real strike.
They had never worked together like this, but they knew each other’s fighting styles intimately.
The door swung open with a sudden fling, but Raph’s big body blocked your view of whoever it was that was doing this.
All you could see were pointed purple heels.
“Hello, my ruby red turtley-boo!”
You recognized that voice.
She stepped directly into Raph’s space and must have touched him.
His head tipped back away from the contact.
“Is that my tawny tangerine, I spy!? Come here and greet Big Mama…”
The woman took a single step away from Raph.
Right before her heel touched down, a dozen men appeared around you.
Hypno gasped at the appearing act and quietly mocked how they had forgotten half the show.
“Now, now…” Big Mama was a petite form.
Because of proximity, you compared her to one of Raph’s arms, which she was far smaller than.
This was the woman from the hologram.
The one Donnie had battled for years.
Here, in your old apartment.
On the day of your baby shower.
With what looked like an army of her employees.
“What do you take me for?” She addressed your husband, who you now realized was tied up.
Your body lurched in terror.
“A mean old Maleficent?” She tittered toward your mate. “I would have known if my invite was misplaced. I know everything that happens in my hotel.”
Her posture was perfect.
“Even-”
She reached up slowly.
“-down to-”
With a single spindly digit she stretched out towards Donnie’s beak
“-the grubbiest gurdle gathering grapheme in my glorious granary.”
She meant to bop your husband’s nose, but with each g-sound you made it a single step and caught her wrist before she could.
The men she brought jostled.
Donnie made a noise through whatever had him trapped.
You could feel Raph’s ninpo oozing around you.
It almost matched the moment of white hot ire that came off Big Mama as she turned to slowly stare down at the lowly bug who thought themselves worthy enough to touch her.
“My…” Her hand turned in yours.
“Don’t touch him.” You barely kept your spittle to a minimum.
She went from hatred to affection with little in between. “You are adorable.”
“Let him go and get out.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Her limb went limp.
You didn’t want to hold her up and let it fall. “And why’s that?”
It was another offense that she took with a flash of rage. “I’ve been insulted.”
“Oh?”
This maybe wasn’t the time.
It probably wasn’t the place.
You were pregnant.
Your husband was restrained.
You had guests.
You had no guarantee of your safety.
Whatever protocols existed for Big Mama weren’t known to you.
As it were, she was nothing more than an old hag who had crashed your special day.
She took a moment to mentally steel herself. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”
“Walk out-!”
She brought her hand back up.
Red light glowed beside you.
Purple smoke floated up around your feet.
Orange air crackled behind you.
A few purple lights danced around your head.
Big Mama addressed them all, but still snapped her fingers.
You winced in preparation for something big.
Instead you heard a legion of synchronous bodies move in tandem.
It brought your eyes around where you found every single one of Big Mama’s men holding a present.
Each was unique and individually wrapped.
“No thanks.” You spat.
Big Mama tutted. “You may want to reconsider my bounty. You’re a fruitful one yourself. Partake and let’s parlay.”
You felt Coral ready herself to yell and you threw up a hand to stop her.
There was no sound, but Big Mama viewing you throwing out your own command caused her lips to purse before they smiled.
A little too wide.
You swore you saw a peak of chelicerae.
She sighed. “This is a party!”
She took a calculated step away and the men who had coiled your husband removed the binds.
You saw them glitter with a fine white sheen.
That meant they were mystic.
It immobilized Donnie instantly.
You didn’t like that.
You couldn’t think on it any longer because he appeared in front of you. “You dare-!”
“Maybe my entrance was a little bummy-blustered, but can you blame me?” Her eyes glazed as she looked out towards the room. “You wouldn’t answer the door! I could hear your ring-a-ding-ding from down the hall! Then you all hide, heads under blankey-wankies, as if I would be lulled by this dormy dormitory! It’s preposterously repugnant! A scandal! A right offense!”
“Your ego befits you.” Donnie spoke in a lethally calm candor. “Isolates you. You wonder why no one wants anything to do with you?”
He swept a hand in gesture.
“Look.”
She inhaled as sharply as she would allow.
No one dared say anything, but you could feel it.
The disdain.
Even her stoic men had some level of it.
They were her undying stock, but they couldn’t defend what she had just done.
She breathed again.
“What would you have me do?” She asked with an expression that you would have labeled as unbridled.
For a single moment, she put down toying and her pride.
What was left was a woman without games.
She was an exhausted kind of calm that came with a glimpse behind her armor.
A starlet that removed her makeup only in the solitude of her own home.
Except she was here.
“We do not speak.”
“By design.” Donnie snapped.
“We can’t interact.”
“By nature.”
“It’s not as if we can have a dil-ya-ble.”
“You had a hand in all these decisions.” Donnie scoffed.
“Then you’re aware!” She addressed him fully with that unbridled air. “We have no means of communiqué.”
“Why would we?!” His teeth snapped. “We were direct competitors! Almost each other’s ruins! A stalemate was our salvation! The only reason both of us are standing here now!!”
“Right.”
It was too simple.
Too quiet of a reply.
It hung, heavy, in the air.
You felt Raph’s attention weaken with what you identified was embarrassment.
It was a shame to see Big Mama act like this.
You lightly touched Donnie’s carapace so as not to spook him.
You felt his battle shell.
You flattened out a firm pressure to reassure him.
“What will satisfy you? Being a grandparent? Scoff.” Donnie’s posture shifted from attack to readied. “If your guard is down, out with it.”
“My business has been disrupted.”
“And that concerns me? Why? I assume you have no barrier with these-” Donnie glanced at Raph as he cut himself off.
Raph’s brow ridge rose curious.
“-them. With them. Here are your heroes. Your foolish hands.” Donnie returned to Big Mama. “I offer you nothing.”
“Well, this kerfuffle is of your making.” She responded coolly.
Donnie heard something in the sentence that you did not.
You felt him think before he turned, only his head, so he could glimpse Coral. “A moment?”
Your ex-roommate knew Donnie enough to read all he hadn’t said. “You can use the roof.”
He nodded once.
Big Mama caught Raph’s arm. “Raphadoo, mind being my collateral?”
“Big Mama…” Raph tried to reason.
“Go.” Donnie urged Raph.
Raph’s lips squiggled out and he checked with Mikey.
Mikey openly shrugged.
“Need back-up, chap?” Hypno ventured to Donnie.
“You stay here. Entertain our guests and watch…” Donnie looked at Big Mama. “… two men.”
She gave a sharp nod and cooed at Raph as she led him into the hall.
All but two of her men marched out after.
Mikey appeared beside you in a blink. “What is going on!?”
“I don’t know.” Donnie was unnerved.
“It’s Y/N’s baby shower!!” Coral hissed.
“I know.” Donnie told her with a surprising amount of guilt.
She flinched at it and checked with Mikey. “Geez… so that’s like… your mom? Everyone’s mom? I can’t keep up with your family.”
“You can barely handle your one mom.” You felt the need to comfort her with anything.
She appreciated it through a wince. “Got that right.”
You gave her one last smile before tugging at your mate. “Let me go?”
“Yes.” Donnie spun around to hold you. “She selected this event. She could have intervened anywhere. There was purpose here. Meaning.”
“Right.”
You checked in with your friends who worried one last time before Hypno took charge. He had the air of a performer trying to save face while he lost his crowd, but you had faith he would keep everyone entertained. Mikey and Donnie shared a quick nod before they headed out. Mikey walked first even though he had to be told where to go and you were protected in the center with Donnie flanking. You eventually hit a staircase, which Donnie kindly carried you up. In a few leaps you were at a roof access door and out where Big Mama had arranged the meetup.
Her men lined the roof and she stood just in front of Raph so he could be used as a bargaining chip.
“Tell me what I could have possibly done in all my years of pacificity.” Donnie spoke before the door closed.
You checked to make sure you wouldn’t get locked up here.
Mikey eyed you curiously, as he was apparently your bodyguard.
“You’re aware of the Heart of Winter incident.” Big Mama spoke like she held the world in her hand.
The Hamatos’ reaction was different from you and your husband’s.
While you and he knew, the other two were clearly put off.
It caused Donnie to check on Raph and you to question Mikey.
“Maximum Overdrive…” Mikey whispered to you.
Big Mama was clearly looking over her glasses with a cocked brow.
Mikey held a hand up as if that would keep her from hearing. “So we kinda, sorta, haven’t caught him yet…”
A flat noise squeezed in your throat.
“What?!” Donnie’s head rolled. “He is one human!”
“It’s been a whole thing.” Raph itched his neck.
“You purport a single occupation!” Donnie snapped.
“I would say being a hero is more of a side gig…” Mikey rattled out.
“On call until you aren’t.” You felt the need to add something.
“Exactly. We trade off.” Mikey chirped.
“Point is!” Raph felt how this was taking too long. “Max has these gauntlet things! And the Heart of Winter! We don’t want him to open it again and the gauntlets have been-!”
“Allow me.” Big Mama clicked her heels together to take attention.
Everyone looked at her in various ways.
“Járngreipr.” She projected. “Mystic gauntlets said to possess the power to hold reality between your fingers. Instead of divine intervention, a grotesque gadfly used them to pick up an item too cold for human hands to interact with.”
The Heart of Winter.
You guessed it was curious that whoever was at ground zero when the Heart of Winter opened was alive.
It wasn’t something you thought too much about.
You felt like you had more important things to deal with.
Things only you could take care of.
Your baby.
Donnie clearly felt the same.
“Young… graper…” Mikey sounded out a terrible approximation of what Big Mama had said before he waved to Raph.
The roof was not seclusive whatsoever so everyone watched as Raph was forced to wave back and say, “What?”
“Is that Norse or Roman? Isn’t that what we narrowed it down to?” Mikey yelled in a whisper.
“Neither.” Raph did the same back. “Norse was Heimdall and Roman was Hercules… or is that Greek…?”
“Romans adapted-” Donnie cut himself off by pinching the bridge of his beak.
“It’s Norse.” Big Mama interjected.
“Nuh uh, we looked it up. It was super boring because the Hidden City really needs an internet connection, but we did it. We did a bunch of research on all mystic gloves, gauntlets, mittens, rings, bracelets, brass knuckles, watches, and hand warmers. The only Norse thing that came up was Heimdall.” Mikey pointed.
“Heimdall’s gloves are a different artifact.” Big Mama clarified with her patience waning.
“This is verifiable. Big Mama still lords the auction house.” Donnie offered in spite of himself.
“Didn’t Leo go there once?” Mikey asked Raph.
“Stop that!” Donnie hissed. “We’re all privy to your ineptitude!”
“What?!” Mikey whined.
You caught Mikey’s arm and tugged him.
He tucked his offense into you.
“I will curtail this hurly burly by offering what I know.” Big Mama audibly stepped in. “This Maximus you speak of stole two artifacts from a human auction. The Heart of Winter and the Járngreipr. Neither lot should have been available to humans.”
“Yeah, Max only knew human stuff as far as we could tell.” Mikey tacked onto the story. “Normal human life, normal low tier bad guy stuff, normal criminal auction dude.”
You grunted and squeezed him.
“What?” He huffed.
“That’s not normal.” You lowered your lids to judge him.
“It’s normal for bad guys! I said that!”
“It’s normal for bad guys to do auction stuff?”
The question caught Mikey off guard.
He thought for a moment before he shook his head. “I don’t know! We tailed him and looked him up online. It was obvious karma got him. He was good at his job, selling stolen goods at auction, normal bad guy stuff, until like ten years ago. He made a lot of dirty money, then… didn’t. I don’t get auctions, but I guess he didn’t sell certain things, lost money, and people didn’t… I don’t know? Hire him? Again, I don’t know how auction people make money, but he couldn’t let go of the lifestyle, typical, and so he kept showing up, broke, to the auctions, couldn’t buy anything, and was a laughing stock.”
“Until he stole a persnickety-wicket.” Big Mama’s eyes widened threateningly instead of glaring.
Mikey looked at her evenly and immune.
She sighed and adjusted her ruff. “Such a waste of uncommercialized riff-raff. Imagine the bloodshed if the Járngreipr and Heart of Winter were utilized in televised combat…”
Mikey made an annoyed noise.
Her head tipped as she gave whatever that idea was up. “All I mean is that if he wants to exact revenge, then he should at least capitalize on it. Only a fool is so short sighted. Hurting his fellow auctioneers willy-nilly won’t get him back his fortune. It’s a boring cycle; failure and predictably threatening to unleash the frost again.”
“Yeah! I wouldn't say it like that, but that’s what I mean! Boring, normal bad guy stuff.” Mikey bobbed.
Donnie turned over the content and addressed Big Mama. “Max’s enemies are of your retainer?”
“Oh, silly! No!” Big Mama preened. “My men don’t rub elbows with humans. They only enter dealings here to reacquire yokai goods. To return them to their proper home after they’ve snuck away.”
“How successful they were.” Donnie sneered.
“Quite! I wonder why that is?” One of her fingers held up feigned pondering to her painted lips. “All this gibber-gabber must have made you forget one, teensy-weensy crucial detail. Something I mentioned before my little hops that bounced you all the way up here.”
Donnie stared.
Her head quirked with interest. “That this gratuitous gaff is of your grafting, Donatello.”
The Hamato checked with Donnie.
Your mate’s confusion leaked through your wedding band.
It lasted only a moment before it was washed over by a wave of resentment.
“A lie.” He turned that displeasure on Big Mama. “Your typical ruse. You mean to divide us. Throw blame.”
“I tell no such porkys.”
“Your euphemisms are tired.” He was clearly over the charade.
“Thirteen years ago.” Big Mama narrowed her gaze.
Donnie was struck, but none of it showed on his person.
You did the mental math.
He would have been in his earlyish twenties.
“You had long made your home here and I had my accommodations.”
“Trapped with only your reconstructed hotel…” Donnie pieced together the timeline.
“Can we rely on that memory of yours? You only recall broad strokes if I understood what little I saw of you then.” She pressed menace.
Raph readied himself to intercept behind her and her men beyond that prepared to stop him.
“That shining-sun of your war-weathered mind…” She cooed. “You knew little other than death, trying to kill your bale mates.”
“They are not-!” Donnie snarled.
“Tit-tit! No need to fuss over fissiduciaries.”
“That’s not a word.”
She clicked her tongue. “You were still too scared to return to my city, but you had a need for mystic technology. The kind unavailable up here unless you went through me. Anything to one up your turtley-boo banes. You might have not been able to go below, but your cutesy-wootsy whippoorwill could. You sent him down and he stole a shipment of your choosing.”
You felt a flicker of confusion in your wedding band.
You tried to reason through Big Mama’s cockamamie way of talking.
The only individual that could go to the city in that time period would have been…
“S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.” You spoke it out loud by mistake.
“Bingo! Pots to you!” Big Mama clapped.
You didn’t feel good about it.
No one seemed to.
“I would have wanted raw materials. Thrown out the rest. Anything not of my construction was waste. You insinuate the lot I took then contained these artifacts.” Donnie put the rest together. “The Járngreipr and the Heart of Winter.”
“By jolly! We’re on a roll. How about you gentlemen?” Big Mama checked with Raph and Mikey.
“So? Donnie was young and stole something from you, who probably stole something from someone else…” Raph did his own piecemeal. “It’s not his fault. It has nothing to do with him or Y/N.”
“But it does.” She gleamed with what you felt was a ferocious appetite.
Mikey felt it too because he got closer.
“You have a child on the way. Precious thing. Children. Wild things. Can hardly leash them and look what they do…” Big Mama was clearly referring to the Hamato, who did not agree. “They run away. Steal your fiancé’s portal doohickey. Get to the Hidden City all on their own. Oh, how history does love to repeat itself!”
For a beat, you thought nothing of it.
Why believe Big Mama?
She clearly wasn’t trusted by any supposed side.
Then, you felt Donnie’s worries.
Guilt.
Concern.
Fear.
You guessed you had to agree.
Even now, even when you were doing the most normal thing in the world, having a baby shower with your friends, this mystic entity had somehow found you and disrupted things.
You were naïve to think your child wouldn’t be touched by this.
There was a large chance they would have ninpo to unlock.
They had mutagen that tied them to Yokai.
A part of them would never be from this side of the world.
“There is no offer here. No deal.” Big Mama spoke in a kinder voice. “The handling of this situation is poor and I felt the need to step in. I offer information. These items aren't a dime a dozen. The Járngreipr are one of three climatic chits. They are missed from their set and the Heart of Winter is, in essence, the lifeblood of the ice dragon clan. For years now, their interested parties have been doing all they could to recover them.”
You felt Donnie place exactly what Big Mama actually wanted. “You seek the finder’s fee.”
She only smiled at this correct answer.
“No.” Mikey put his foot down. “I don’t know who’s supposed to have the young-graper, but we know a dragon who knows an ice dragon. If it’s that important to their clan, then we’re giving that back to them! No money involved!”
Big Mama twitched with her disdain.
“Big Mama… come on…” Raph huffed.
“Just the Járngreipr then. That’s a tidy enough sum.” She argued staunchly.
Mikey rubbed his brow. “We can talk about it. We don’t have them yet. We need to get them from Max first.”
“Right.” Raph agreed.
“My involvement…” Donnie wondered. “My child…”
“The Heads will be quite grateful to see these items returned to the yokai of yore.”
“Amnesty…?” Donnie wasn’t asking her as much as he didn’t believe it was possible.
“An actual pardon, not by my influence.” Big Mama just about licked her lips.
You didn’t like it.
Mikey sympathized, but there was also an edge.
He believed it.
It made you check with Raph.
He did too; you could see it in the way he was stunned by Big Mama.
You checked your mate last.
Donnie’s emotions were a blur to you and only you.
This wasn’t something he had ever looked for.
Wanted.
You had both sworn that other city off.
But your child.
You could try to keep them from there, but how far would that go or last?
Donnie exhaled and was no closer to the answer.
One last job.
That was what this felt like.
For him to get out of this life.
So your child couldn’t be used as some bargaining chip.
For safety.
Any number of movies, shows, comics, and more said it wasn’t possible.
But this shouldn’t have been possible either.
Donnie here.
You being married.
You being pregnant.
Donnie standing by Raph.
Donnie allowing Mikey to protect you.
Donnie speaking with Big Mama.
The humans down below.
Every single moment leading here.
You looked down at your ring.
It was a creation from that other city.
The one that binded you to your mate.
That meant something.
You closed your eyes and sent Donnie all of your confirmation.
Do this.
Donnie’s head rose as he received the message.
You believed.
This could work.
“Offer tangible proof and it shall be.” Your husband told his counterpart.
(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon. You can follow me there, here, or the tag #softspotfic for updates)
Having a rough patch is easier when you know your betas got your back; thank you @tmntxthings and @unrestrainedhotsoup
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