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whatswrongwithblue · 4 months ago

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The Hunt pt. 1

Read on AO3.

Part 2. Part 3.

Summary: Alastor x Reader (reader is afab, uses she/her pronouns.) Date nights in Hell are done a little differently, especially when you're dating The Radio Demon.

Trigger warnings: Canon typical violence. Reader and Alastor in Hell for a reason. Horror with some twisted romance.

Today had been a particularly drab day.

Acid rain had been falling all afternoon and Pentagram City was shut down because of it. And you could feel yourself shutting down as well.

These bad days used to fall on you much more often. Back when life was simpler and less stimulating. When there were less options to hyper fixate on and stimulate those delightful hormones that didn’t always help you to feel happy but allowed you to . . . feel.

But today you felt that numbness creeping in; a slithering, creeping, darker cousin to boredom. You were so tired and every forced smile and polite reply aimed at the other hotel residents drained your battery little by little by little by little . . . .

You were on your fifth cup of coffee that afternoon, the bitter caffeinated beverage the only thing left that seemed to cause any kind of chemical spark in your dead gray matter, but unknowingly, you had stopped sipping it several minutes ago. Rather, you were just mindlessly staring down into it, watching the little tendrils of separated creamer swirl around the top. At least it was far more interesting than anything else going on in the lobby.

“Are we having a bit of a . . . down day?” Alastor’s voice said remarkably close to your ear and you jumped, turning to find him bent over at his waist, his head right next to yours.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, turning away from him.

He had pampered and fussed over you too many times on days like these, even when – no, especially when they became so bad you couldn’t get out of bed. But things were different now; since his return to Hell, Alastor was busier than ever and you didn’t want to bother him. The guilt would be worse than the emptiness you were currently struggling with.

“I think not,” came his sing-song reply and you shut your eyes against the enthusiasm you heard in his tone.

“Don’t I look fine?” you challenged and when he stood up straighter, his smile pinching just a little at the corners, you heard how snippy you sounded with him and sighed. There was the damnable guilt you had been trying to avoid.

“You look beautiful as always, darling,” came his quick reply. “I just thought you could use a little cheering up.”

He leaned back in, whispering conspiratorial into your ear now. “I was hoping you would join me . . . on a date . . .” His eyes glowed as he let his words sink in. “But if you’d rather sit in here and sulk the rest of the night, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Like . . . a date, date?” you asked, feeling a little bit of the weight leaving your chest as hope bloomed in you.

“Precisely.” His smile stretched ear to ear. “There is someone I need to collect a debt on and the weather tonight seems just perfect for such an occasion. I would more than welcome your company.”

You felt your first genuine smile of the day grace your features, nearly matching the wickedness of Alastor’s own features, and that little spark you had felt turned into an entire flood of dopamine.

“Where to?” you asked and Alastor took your head, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, before leading you out the front doors.

____

The prey dragged itself up the stairs, stumbling on every other step and grasping the handrail for balance as he went. Although the rainstorm had kept him from the bars that night, it hadn’t kept him from his personal stache of liquor and in his lonely anger, he had downed several gin and tonics before his stomach began to protest and he had passed out in his armchair. He’d woken up a few minutes ago, his bladder protesting the diuretic effects of the booze. By some miracle he had made it to his downstairs bathroom to relieve himself and then decided it was time to crawl into bed.

He made it to the top of the landing after a considerable struggle with the staircase and almost forgot to the turn the lights off behind him. Fumbling with the switch, he just happened to glance down the stairs as the lights flickered out of existence.

The prey blinked in the darkness, trying to adjust his eyes, as he thought he saw a strange shadow at the bottom of the stairs.

He was sure he was alone in the house and he couldn’t quite be sure of what he was seeing, so he flipped the lights back on.

Nothing.

Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, he turned the lights back off.

And there it was again.

A shadow. Taller and definitely there.

Feeling his heart begin to race, the prey flipped the lights on, certain he wasn’t imagining it this time but as the staircase became illuminated once more, the shadow was gone.

He had perhaps had too much to drink.

One last time, he flipped the switch, inviting the darkness back in, and this time when the shadow came back, the prey swore there were faint glowing green eyes and the hint of a smile playing across its features.

And was it a little closer this time? He had sworn it was at the bottom of the stairs but now it seemed to be a few steps up.

“Now that’s enough of that!” the prey shouted and flipped on the lights.

He breathed a sigh of relief when once more, there was nothing.

Maybe it was best to sleep with the lights on tonight, just to be certain.

The prey turned away from the stairs, leaving the switch flipped in the on position, and came chest to chest with The Radio Demon.

“Good evening, Daniel,” Alastor said, smiling wider as the prey’s face turned several shades whiter. “I see you’ve changed residences.”

“Hey there, Al’ . . . I-I mean, Alastor . . . sir. M-Mr. Radio D-demon,” the prey stuttered, stumbling backwards and just barely catching himself on the banister. “You uh . . . you like my new digs, huh? Paid a pretty penny for it but you know, it’ll be good for business.”

Alastor remained at the top of the stairs, watching his prey make its slow decent down and away from him.

“And who’s business would that be? Certainly not mine, I don’t deal in real estate after all.”

“You know, ha, it’s funny you would say that because I’ve been meaning to talk to you- ”

“You made a mistake, Daniel,” Alastor told his prey, all the politeness leaving his tone, although his smile remained.

The prey swallowed audibly.

“Did you really think going to Zestial, of all demons, would save you from our deal?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re . . . talking abou- ”

“You see, Daniel, Zestial and I may not necessarily be friends, but we are colleagues. And we have an understanding. A certain level of respect for each other, if you will.” Alastor narrowed his eyes and his voice turned cold as ice. “And neither of us like having another Overlord’s leftovers.”

Daniel turned and fled, racing down the rest of the steps with a grace that only adrenaline could provide in such a state of inebriation, though he did fumble quite a bit with the locks of the front doors.

Alastor let his prey make it out the front door before he went in pursuit, though he let his deep laughter follow Daniel the whole way down, enjoying the sweet tangy smell of his fear as it spiked at the sound.

In his panic, the prey forgot all about the inclement weather and dashed thoughtlessly out into the rainstorm and ran down the deserted street. It took a minute for the effects to kick in but eventually he started to feel the itching on his skin and then the burning set in. The prey stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, beneath a streetlamp, and watched as the skin on his hands began to turn red and break out in a terrible heat rash.

With a sob, he dashed under an overhang of a nearby business and shook at the doorhandle, but it wouldn’t budge. He thought about breaking the window to get inside but then he heard that laughter again and the streetlights above flickered and then went out, one by one.

Looking down the street, he watched as The Radio Demon stepped out into view, his antlers now wide and pointed above his silhouette, and turned his head down the street, looking in his prey’s direction.

A smell wafted off of him, even from this great distance. A dank, swampy, animalistic smell. The musk filled the prey’s nostrils and burned his sinuses, and he knew it was the smell of a predator about to pounce.

“That’s alright, Daniel, go ahead and run. Please do.”

To the prey’s horror, Alastor began walking quickly down the sidewalk, completely unaffected by the burning rain. His limbs and entire body stretched out and elongated with every step, closing the distance between them faster than previously possible, until Alastor was a towering demonic presence chasing down the street after him.

“I like my meals warmed up!” he shouted, and the prey screamed as he took off again.

It was either face the rain or be eaten and the prey chose the rain as it sprinted down the street, screaming and crying out for help but not a light flickered on in the buildings as he passed them.

Eventually the burning became unbearable and the prey darted blindly into the nearest alleyway, praying to Roo herself that there would be some shelter to hide in and protect him from the rain.

And there it was, a small overhang by a bar’s backdoor, with a conveniently placed dumpster to hide next to that blocked his view of the street.

That was where the prey found you, standing innocently by the door, shielded from the rain, and he didn’t question why you would be there on a night like this. He only fell at your feet, clinging to your legs and shaking, his hands and face now beginning to blister, his tears hot and stinging his flesh as they fell down his cheeks.

“Please! Please, help me! Let me in! Please! He’s going to eat me, please!”

“Who is going to eat you?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head as you considered the pathetic demon at your feet.

“Alastor. Th-the Radio Demon. He . . . he . . .” the prey fumbled for words, his sentence trailing off as he risked peaking up over the top of the dumpster and seeing nothing but an empty street at the end of the alleyway.

“Oh, right. Him,” you said, nodding. “Well, that’s his thing, isn’t it? Going after demons that try and break their deals. Especially ones like you, who preyed after helpless young women when he was alive. Isn’t that right . . . Daniel?”

The prey’s breath caught in his throat as he glanced over his shoulder at you, a new kind of fear lighting his eyes.

“Who . . . who are you?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“That’s not important,” you scoffed. “Who was the girl you raped and left for dead in the park on the night of your 18th birthday? Or the sex workers you then tortured and killed and left their bodies out in the desert? Do you even remember their names? Do you know how many family members are still looking for their daughters, sisters, mothers?”

“I don’t . . . I didn’t . . .” he stammered, getting to his feet now.

“You did. No use denying it now, Daniel. Not when Alastor and I are so . . . very . . . hungry.”

A crackling noise, like the sound of several joints popping at once filled the air, and the prey looked up and up and up as he saw Alastor’s gigantic form peeling away from the darkened side of the building, turning from nothing but shadow into a very corporeal and deadly form before his very eyes.

Behind him, you shoved at his back, forcing him to fall onto his knees into a puddle of acid rain.

Then you stepped out from under the cover of the overhang, letting the rain soak your hair and clothes, and the prey looked up at you with renewed horror as he realized the acid water had no effect on you either.

“Please,” he whimpered and then began to scream as Alastor bent over and lifted him into the air.

You watched as the prey’s tiny body was lifted higher and higher until the rain and the shadows hid him mostly from view but you could still hear him screaming. Then there was a crunching noise and a wet sound, followed by a thin stream of blood that fell from the sky.

The screaming continued.

“This will be quite unpleasant until it’s over,” Alastor’s voice said from high above you. “But my darling companion does love the taste of demon heart.”

Another sound of stretching and tearing and then you saw it; the warm mass of your meal falling towards you, and you reached up and caught it with skilled precision.

With the prey’s heart now in your grasp, you brought it to your lips and took an eager bite, never minding the blood that ran down your forearms and coated your lower face.

The screaming above you came to a sudden halt with the sound of one final loud crunch and just as you were taking the last bites of your own meal, Alastor was standing before you.

His antlers were still larger than usual, their six points gleaming beautifully in the dim light of the alley, as rain ran down them in rivulets, soaking the red and black hair beneath them.

Alastor gave you a loving smile as you swallowed the last bit of heart.

“Feeling better, my love?” he asked.

“Much,” you said with a satisfied sigh. “Thank you.”

He reached a hand out, wiping away a bit of blood from the side of your mouth with his thumb, though he had hardly succeeded in getting it all.

“You always look positively stunning like this,” he said as he brought his bloody thumb to his mouth and gave it an appreciative suck.

And there in the rain and the dark, you and your lover shared a private and tender kiss, the perfect ending to a perfect date.

Tag list for part 2? It will be smutty.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #the radio demon #alastor

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artiststarme · 2 years ago

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Eddie saw the kids treating Steve like he was the dumbest member of the Party. He saw them ridiculing him about his verbiage, his confusion over DnD, and his lack of dating. Hell, they found fault in basically everything he did. Eddie saw Steve losing more and more of his confidence until he had hardly any left. He would wilt under the force of their judgment, his smile would dim, and he’d make his entire being smaller.

It made Eddie furious. Steve might not be the best at reading or playing roleplay games involving excessive amounts of math but he had his own strengths. He knew how to survive. Steve had told him about being left alone at home from a young age and having to figure out how to change the batteries in the smoke detector. How he’d had to figure out how to clean the pool and handle the chemicals when he was eleven because his parents wanted to come home to a clean pool. He’d seen him decipher sports plays on TV that had Eddie’s mind boggling.

Not to mention the fact that Steve had been keeping those bitchass kids safe for the past three years. He’d provided first aid, fought monsters from hell, and still managed to keep those little shits alive. So, the next time he hears one of them say something derogatory about Steve, Eddie might lose it a little.

Importantly, his words met their mark. There was some screaming involved, some finger-pointing, and blame thrown around. The kids may have been in shock for part of his tantrum and in tears for the rest of it. But from that day forward, they treated Steve with the respect he deserves. They stopped calling him names and insulting his intelligence. They stopped expecting the most of him and treating him the worst. Most of all though, they started showing their appreciation.

And it made Eddie happy. No one, according to him and everyone else’s opinion that mattered, deserved it more than Steve. He let him know as often as possible, whispering it into their kisses or into his ear as he cuddled him at night. For the rest of their lives, Eddie would make Steve understand how smart and how important he is.

#I don't know what this is and I don't know if I like it #Just a little something soft for tonight #I'll be writing actual fics tomorrow so be ready for that!#stranger things #steddie #headcanon #steve harrington #eddie munson

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oozedninjas · 11 months ago

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Blame the Chemicals in the Mind

Summary: Mad scientist!Donnie discovers he has developed twisted, unwanted feelings toward his best experimentation specimen.

A/N: General verses, but I placed something about each version of Donnie, let's see if you can find it! Also, I heavily kept in mind 2012verse and Bayverse for some reason? Anyway, this will have multiple parts but it can be read as a one-chapter thing too :)

Please do not spam like. Reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Warnings: NSFW / DARK CONTENT/ smut/fem!Reader/ after the kraang apocalypse/Donatello and reader are both mid to late twenties /dub-con/eventual Yandere topics/experimentation/torture/blood and violence/trauma bonding/Stockholm syndrome/blood extraction/panic attack (reader's)/twisted hurt-comfort/between-the-lines humiliation/ mentions of the use of a feeding probe/sensorial overstimulation and deprivation/ Regarding smut: humping/creampie/DUB-CON/ dead dove do not eat

This is 18+ dark content. If you click on keep reading you have agreed you want to read this content.

His ever-present gaze penetrated the tank's glass, fixating on your orbs. It was a constant company, greeting you upon waking— whether immersed in the computer's screen a few paces ahead or absorbed in a stress ball he kept in hand to stimulate his thoughts. He consistently stared, as if that alone could propel him closer to a cure for the three monstrous things that so closely resembled him.

Donatello observed them through the fortified cells he constructed, initially intended as a security measure. He sighed deeply. The laboratory never felt as desolate as it did now, as if hopelessness swept through, resonating through his body. Gradually, despair eroded small fragments of his sanity, leaving nothing more than a faint echo of who he used to be.

He needed to find a cure soon. And so he pinched, tugged, injected, and inflicted upon your body a distinct form of torment every day. Each one an inch closer. However, despite your best judgment, you lacked the strength to keep on resenting him.

Exhausted from enduring numerous stings and side effects, your brain, perhaps as a survival mechanism, clung to words of reaffirmation. Praise. Approbation. Plaudits. They seemed to breathe sanity back into your inner self, preventing your poor state of mind from sinking deeper into the dark.

Such an exquisite test subject!

So remarkably compliant and subdued, aren't you?

I'll create an antidote, and they'll be back, and it'll be thanks to you.

You seem unwell today.

His voice was distant from under the water but he sounded somehow concerned. "Let's take the day off. You can't die just yet. Finding others like you is proving increasingly challenging."

You didn't want him to ignore you for the rest of the day. You wished he wouldn't. You could endure a slight pinch if it meant feeling something. Lately, the increasing sensory isolation was becoming more and more nerve-wracking. You must have wished too fervently, for just as he had not entirely turned away, the power abruptly ran out.

Donatello gasped. The blue light of your tank framed his face. A menace, yet fixable. The hitch: replacing the lab's battery required using the one in your tank. Both were designed with separate energies after an incident— an unfortunate electrocution during a short-circuit caused by an electric storm. Test subject 83q1q didn’t make it.

The wisest course of action was to empty the tank, replace the battery, and secure you elsewhere until he could find a new one. Your body throbbed with tickles of anxiety and anticipation upon noticing his intent.

As it drained, you descended to the bottom of it. He opened its side, causing all the tubes to tilt down. Donatello pulled them off. You inhaled as soon as he unplugged them from your throat. A coughing fit almost broke your rib cage right after a sharp, reckless gasp for air.

An overwhelming sensation hovered over you. Abruptly, everything was too much. Too much air, too rough floor, too much pressure on your skull, too loud— You can't breathe. You're choking. Your ears are beeping. Someone's screaming. You can't breathe, you can't breathe, you can’t— He's touching you. You tensed. Would he return you to the tank? Where's the needle? The last time he touched you, there was a needle, or something sharp, and it hurt. You brace yourself.

Donatello began making even circles over your bare back.

"Deep breaths," he said. His voice sounded different. Steadier, warmer. "Follow my own, here," he pressed your hand to his plastron. His inhalations were even, soothing.

"That's right, you're doing well—maintain your focus right here."

Your view briefly smeared your palm over his chest before properly adjusting. Your head pulsed as if your skull rejected your brain. Your mind was a jumble of many things barely held together. But you’re breathing, you’re alive, nothing hurts.

"Well done. Now, tell me five things about yourself," he asked.

The piercing cold scraped your bones like long-stirred claws. Nothing hurts, not quite much.

"My name is Donatello,” he began to set an example. “I am a scientist. I aim to fix the Kraang predicament. I like purple,” he paused, realizing there was nothing more about him worth mentioning. Then, against logical reasoning, he added: “I miss my brothers.”

Squatting, embracing your naked, soaked silhouette in a failed attempt to stop shivering, you listened; forcing yourself to clutch onto his voice, scarcely discerning his words but making the effort. On the verge of giving up on obtaining an answer, Donatello motioned back. Your nails dug into his plastron just then. He tensed.

“My name is—” your voice quivered, mind spinning, searching. You told him. “Chest… hurts. Head, hurts. I’m cold.” Your weakling tone disturbed you, hoarse, broken, reduced to a raspy mutter. “I’m… alone.”

You were unexpectedly a jarring mirror he reflected in. Donatello tilted his head, musing.

"Well done. It wasn't so hard, was it?" he articulated, displacing your hand. "Now come here, you ought to wait inside the cell until the battery is efficiently substituted and operational—I still need to find another to power the tank, though.” he added between his teeth, more to himself than to you. “Anyway, be glad, you'll rest," he finished, offering you a towel.

You took it, hesitantly. Soft, cold fingers brushing with rough, calloused ones. Donatello retracted his hand upon the brief contact. For half a second, he seemed misplaced. Something shifted thereafter. As if the lab’s loneliness somehow extinguished just by having another breath residing there. As days elapsed, he worked diligently to replace the burnt pieces and connect the battery. This task, which would have taken only a few hours with all the needed resources, was now hindered by the aftermath of the world nearly ending.

You braced yourself every time he approached your space, yet, pain never came with him. Instead, there was something, something more, something close to a kindle glimpse of a strange fascination. Donatello couldn't grasp why, but he started bringing you food instead of using the feeding probe.

“I help bring them back,” you said one fine day, after long contemplating the scattered photographs of four turtles attired in different colors, enjoying life before the apocalypse.

The sound of the welder stopped, as did the sparks that created different patterns of light around. He looked at you, understanding that it was not a reiteration of your role; it was an express wish, a genuine interest, as if you actually had a saying on the matter. It was, in a way, touching.

“Yes, you will,” he paused briefly, contemplating for the first time going slightly out of his way to give you something. But what? Perhaps something to wear? No, keeping you naked meant you wouldn't dare to set foot outside. It had to be something else, something more.

Donatello pondered for half a heartbeat before pulling the protective lenses up. “Hey, on a scale of one to ten, how cold would you rate your cell?”

***

The day came when he finished fixing the lights. The sudden brightness forced a hiss out of you, too sharp. He adjusted it, toning it down to a level you could bare. He found an extra battery as well, which meant you would return to the tank. You would hurt again, but it’s fine; he gave you purpose. He fed and warmed you, and listened to you. He gave you gentle head pats—

He’s good.

He doesn’t care if he hurts you.

It’s alright. He gave you purpose.

He doesn’t care if you cry.

He keeps you warm.

Donatello took some blood samples, followed by platelets, in between a couple more tests. You felt dizzy jumping off the chair, narrowly holding on to the edge of the table so as not to slam against the floor. The tank light loomed over you. Bit by bit, you gestured towards the two-meter cylindrical vessel, your heart rate suddenly plummeting. The dreadful prospect of sensory deprivation gnawed at your insides. Your breaths became erratic, resonating loudly in your ears, and the sensation of blood swirling in the pit of your stomach heightened. You won't feel, you won't eat, you will hurt. You can't breathe. You gasp for air. It’s alright, it’s alright-

"I was thinking..." Donatello's voice cut through the oppressive atmosphere, and you clung to the sound as if it were a lifeline. "Since you've behaved— what if I don't send you back in the tank? What if you stay here a bit longer?"

You turned, your eyes widening in astonishment.

"Would you like that?" he asked, not facing you, an awkwardness in his demeanor, as if it were the first time in his life he had asked for company.

"Yes," you gasped.

***

You couldn't pinpoint when it happened, but it didn't matter. You lay on his lap, resting as he worked, your body bare, absorbing the warmth of the room he had carefully heated for you. You cherished the rare moments he allowed you this close to him, savoring the seconds of feeling human once again through simple acts like cuddling. It made the aching in your body subside a smidgen.

The embrace elicited subtle signs of contentment, slowly fading into gasps, later morphing into moaning. His breath hitched upon hearing them. Donatello wasn't the best at navigating feelings. But these sensations were not exactly that. They couldn’t be. No, it was more like a palpitation triggering a primal response to your scent, your warmth, and the gentle quiver in your voice.

He scoffed. Deep thought on the matter didn’t change that his cock throbbed with each breath rolling off your mouth. He tried to shake the heat of his head, but why? Why should he resist? There was no purpose for not indulging. In fact, it could be beneficial.

He let his hand travel across your back. His touch made you shudder. He puffed, a nerdy sound he hadn’t heard himself make since the first time he watched a porn video.

“Come,” he said, tugging you to sit upright.

You raised your head from the crook on his neck to face him. “To the operating room?”

“No, just here,” he muttered.

Donatello adjusted you over the lower half of his plastron before reclining the chair back. Your nude pussy pressed upon its wetness. He groaned. Warm fingertips clung to the upper sides of his shell, seeking balance. He stroked your hair. You waited. Nothing hurt.

Donatello placed both hands over your love handles, moving you back and forth so your cunt rubbed over his needy slit. It throbbed, his hard cock soon to emerge from it. He whimpered, breath hitching when you followed his lead, hypnotized by the exquisite friction over your clit. A few more humps and it came out, pulling a deep growl from him. You looked in astonishment as it rose against your abdomen. tick, long and glistening in a creamy transparent liquid. Your inner thighs soon soaked in it. Nothing hurts, no…, in fact- it’s good. Fuck, so good. You sighed, unable to stop grinding over his newly released member, absolutely thriving in the delicious way it numbed everything into bliss.

Donatello’s head fell backward. His mouth curved slightly at the corners in a somewhat twisted smile of enjoyment. His earnest, soft moaning mingled with yours feverishly.

“That’s so hot— I want more, I want to be in you, I know you’re so warm inside,” his voice was desperate, drunken-like.

In one motion, Donatello pulled you up. Your back hit the cold desk. You sensed the keyboard under your head. It hurt. You snap back, eyes open wide. He grabbed your waist. Six strong fingers kept you in place as he lined with you. You puff, suddenly tensing.

"You want it too, right? In theory, it should feel good. You're too wet for it not to, don't worry, you've been good. It won't hurt."

The question lingered. You don't know. You don't want to hurt. Would he be angry if you forced him to stop? Could you do that? Would he put you back in the tank? You're dizzy.

He moved the tip of his cock along your soaked cunt, focusing on your soft nub, making circles over it. Your legs opened wider in response. His voice quivered as he whimpered, yours followed. You clenched around nothing.

"You're not saying no, are you?" he panted. "So I assume you must want to, right?"

Your hole stretches with his size sliding in. You groan, dragging your nails over the desk.

"Ah— it hurts! It hurts!" you blurt out.

"Bear it. The ache isn't supposed to- last too long. It'll feel good once you get used to it. You're good, you can bear it, you ca-nm,"

His body steamed, and his mind burnt with it, slowly melting the last drops of rational thinking. "You're so tight," he thrust once, twice, and thrice.

You reached for him, clinging to his quivering voice, his praise, his— fuck he's so deep in you. his pace knocks your breath out. It hurts. It fills you so well. It hurts. Feels hot. His moves are steady, building heat in your belly. Pain's giving out. You clench around him, sucking him deeper.

Donatello jerked forward, mouth gaping, eyes shutting. Both forearms held him up over the desk. He was now close enough for you to embrace him, so you clamped one hand to his shell and the other to his shoulder. Both legs hugged him near. With each new thrust your clit rubbed to his plastron sending waves of volts through your veins.

"Yes," you breathed, barely above your own moaning.

Donatello grinned, "I knew you liked it,”

“Yeah—ah, faster, harder,” you pleaded, head thrown back as he fucked you.

He granted. Making his pace even crueler. His content smile never faded.

“Your little cunt loves this so much! I can feel you squeezing me so tight, fuck, such a good testing subject, about to be my favorite cumdump.”

Your muscles tensed in anticipation, the heat in your core about to burst. The sound of wet skin slapping reached your ears as your toes curled.

His breath staggered as he spoke. "Ah- I can't stop. I'm coming, fuck, yes, yes-mnn,"

The hot loads filled you all the way to your womb. You embraced him, his ragged breath right in your ear. He enjoyed it, you did good, all feels right, more, more— You came with a loud moan, sweet pulsations carried the bliss from your belly through your temples, melting you.

He stayed still for a while, holding you in his arms, absorbing the warmth from your body. You both descended from the high together. Your scent mingled with his own, and for a fleeting moment, something tingled within him—the creeping onset of a feeling. He scoffed. It meant nothing. What are feelings if not chemicals in the mind, fueling instincts?

"Go clean yourself up," he instructed, letting off your legs. "We still have some tests for the day."

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kinopio-writes · 8 months ago

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Hi!!!! I’d like to request Vox and a reader who just refuses to get like new technology at all because they’re like “I don’t wanna waste money when it still works!” Like their phone case could literally be hanging on by a thread and they’d still refuse to get a new one

You don’t have to do this request if you don’t want to, take care of yourself and drink water❤️

A/N: Thank you. I keep forgetting to drink water every day. The only time I remember to drink is whenever I eat. Take care of yourself, too. And I’m the same as the reader you’re describing, lol. I still have an iPhone 6 and it’s still working. The battery drains so fucking fast though.

Warnings: None

———

Vox x Reader who’s a minimalist

• while Vox is someone who owns (I think is) a multi-billionaire company and never had to think of not buying things he needed or wanted, he might agree with you about the money part

• he’s like Grunkle Stan from Gravity Falls or Scrooge McDuck (rich as hell but doesn’t like wasting money)

• but the thing is, he owned technology

• if it were any other stuff, he would be okay with it (it’s your money, after all. You do you)

• but it’s literally what his brand is built around

• he could just…give you a new one

• “No! I don’t want a new one.”

• he’d take offense to that

• because he already put all of your personal information in, from the apps you downloaded to your photos and, heck, your passwords, too

• and he did all of that without syncing it with your old phone (yeah, he knows everything—it’s not creepy at all)

• he knew you were complaining about the darn thing and decided to give you one

• so…why didn’t you want it???

• “Because it still works.”

• he’d just give you the deadest pan (not a word) ever

• your phone was old as hell, so the battery is pretty chemically fucked up

• it was also a device that he no longer puts any new updates in (because everyone else already moved on from it), so your phone was pretty outdated

• like, extremely outdated

• all of which meant that there would be some slight difficulty with communication

• and this man thrives from Facetiming you (he’s a busy guy)

• there would probably be more times you Facetime him than actually seeing him in person (assuming you don’t live with him. He probably has cameras there regardless)

• you’d keep complaining about how he keeps bugging out after a certain time has passed in the call or how it’s already gone down to 5% or how your phone is overheating because you’re charging it while calling him or how it’s just searing hot in general every time you use it—speaking from personal experience, lol

• it’s the reason why he decided to give you a new phone (he wanted longer calls without you having to hang up every 20 minutes because you needed to charge it)

• but noooo—your stubborn ass still insisted on using it because ‘it’s still working’

• ...yeah, no, he’s not taking any of that shit

• he’s still going to give it to you whether you like it or not

• his proposition is that, okay, you can use your old phone, but you have to use the new one for calls

• that’s all he’s asking for, really

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #kinopiowrites

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dandelionsresilience · 3 days ago

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Dandelion News - November 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles! (sorry it's slightly late, the links didn't wanna work and I couldn't figure it out all day)

1. Wyoming's abortion ban has been overturned, including its ban on abortion medication

“Wyoming is the second state to have its near-total abortion ban overturned this month[…. Seven other states] also approved amendments protecting the right to an abortion. A lawsuit seeking to challenge the [FDA]’s approval of abortion medication recently failed when the Supreme Court refused to hear it[….]”

2. Patches of wildflowers in cities can be just as good for insects as natural meadows – study

“This study confirmed that small areas of urban wildflowers have a high concentration of pollinating insects, and are as valuable to many pollinators as larger areas of natural meadow that you would typically find rurally.”

3. Paris could offer new parents anti-pollution baby 'gift bags' to combat 'forever chemicals'

“The bag includes a stainless steel baby cup, a wooden toy, reusable cotton wipes, and non-toxic cleaning supplies as part of a "green prescription". […] The city will also have 44 centres for protecting mothers and infants that will be without any pollutants[….]”

4. Indigenous guardians embark on a sacred pact to protect the lowland tapir in Colombia

“The tapir is now the focus of an Indigenous-led conservation project[… A proposed “biocultural corridor”] will protect not only the populations and movements of wildlife such as tapirs, but also the cultural traditions and spirituality of the Inga and other neighboring Indigenous peoples[….]”

5. Denmark will plant 1 billion trees and convert 10% of farmland into forest

“[…] 43 billion kroner ($6.1 billion) have been earmarked to acquire land from farmers over the next two decades[.… In addition,] livestock farmers will be taxed for the greenhouse gases emitted by their cows, sheep and pigs from 2030, the first country to do so[….]”

6. The biggest grid storage project using old batteries is online in Texas

“[Element operates “used EV battery packs” with software that can] fine-tune commands at the cell level, instead of treating all the batteries as a monolithic whole. This enables the system to get more use out of each cell without stressing any so much that they break down[….]””

7. Durable supramolecular plastic is fully ocean-degradable and doesn't generate microplastics

“The new material is as strong as conventional plastics and biodegradable, [… and] is therefore expected to help reduce harmful microplastic pollution that accumulates in oceans and soil and eventually enters the food chain.”

8. Big Oil Tax Could Boost Global Loss and Damage Fund by 2000%

“[… A] tax on fossil fuel extraction, which would increase each year, combined with additional taxes on excess profits would […] generate hundreds of billions of dollars by the end of the decade to assist poor and vulnerable communities with the impact of the climate crisis[….]”

9. Rooftop solar meets 107.5 pct of South Australia’s demand, no emergency measures needed

“[T]he state was able to export around 658 MW of capacity to Victoria at the time[….] The export capacity is expected to increase significantly as the new transmission link to NSW[…] should be able to allow an extra 150 MW to be transferred in either direction by Christmas.”

10. Light-altering paint for greenhouses could help lengthen the fruit growing season in less sunny countries

“[Scientists] have developed a spray coating for greenhouses that could help UK farmers to produce more crops in the future using the same or less energy[… by optimising] the wavelength of light shining onto the plants, improving their growth and yield.”

November 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

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reality-detective · 4 months ago

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A well written explanation involving Lithium Ion Batteries. 👇

Understanding Thermal Runaway in Lithium Ion Battery Fires. Thermal Runaway Explained:

Thermal runaway is a chain reaction within a lithium-ion battery that can lead to catastrophic failure, resulting in fires or explosions. Here’s a step-by-step breakdown of what happens during thermal runaway:

1. Initial Trigger: Thermal runaway can be initiated by several factors, such as physical damage (e.g., puncturing or crushing), overcharging, manufacturing defects, or exposure to extreme heat.

2. Internal Heating: Once triggered, a part of the battery starts to overheat. This can be due to an internal short circuit or a chemical reaction within the battery.

3. Chain Reaction: The heat generated from the initial trigger increases the temperature inside the battery. This heat can cause other parts of the battery to react, generating even more heat.

4. Rapid Temperature Rise: As the temperature rises, the electrolyte inside the battery—a flammable liquid—starts to vaporize and decompose, producing gases. This further increases the internal pressure and temperature.

5. Gas Release and Ignition: The increasing pressure can cause the battery casing to rupture, releasing flammable gases. These gases can then ignite, leading to a fire or explosion.

6. Propagation: If the battery is part of a larger battery pack, the heat and flames can spread to adjacent cells, causing them to undergo thermal runaway as well. This can result in a large, intense fire that is difficult to control.

Key Points: - Difficult to Extinguish: Thermal runaway fires require massive amounts of water to cool the batteries and stop the chain reaction. Traditional fire extinguishers are often ineffective.

- Toxic Gases: Burning lithium-ion batteries release toxic gases such as hydrogen fluoride, which can be harmful if inhaled.

- Reignition Risk: Even after the fire appears to be extinguished, there is a risk of reignition. The battery cells can remain hot and unstable for hours or even days.

Safety Measures:

- Distance: Establishing safety distances to keep people away from the danger zone.

- Continuous Monitoring: Using thermal imaging to monitor for any signs of reignition.

- Specialized Response: Firefighters need to use specialized techniques and equipment to handle lithium-ion battery fires safely.

Understanding thermal runaway helps in appreciating the complexity and danger of lithium-ion battery fires, highlighting the importance of safety precautions and effective response strategies. 🤔

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yanaleese · 4 months ago

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Hi! :D, i have 2 questions for karma, 1. Karma is tradicional vampire or is he like the Twilight vampires?. 2 He is willing to let me give him some kisses on his face and leave marks on him?. ;) PD(Sorry if i sound a bit rude, i am learning english and Google a helped me a litte haha)

Ooh! This was a question I've been waiting for!

Also your English is understandable relax bestie <3333

But first - let's get your smooching session out of the way ;)

Now, to answer your first question - Karma falls under the Twilight vampires; however he is not entirely a full vampire. In fact, his family and him fall under half-vampires.

Here is a basic (but LONG) comparison between half-breeds and pure-breeds!

Note that this is still in the works, so some information may be changed to fully tie in Karma's story and lineage!

(1) Yup! You read that right - pure-bloods are born with extra mouths, or none at all. They can be randomly placed anywhere on the body e.g. their backs, their hands, etc. However over time, pure-bloods have been able to move their mouths towards different areas thanks to genetics!

(2) Measured Enhancement is a state that allows pure-bloods to renew their strength and abilities. The blood acts like a charger to your phone battery, similar to how we need food and water to survive. It poses little to no risks due to a chemical called vialene, which helps them to resist losing control of themselves.

(3) No Sun Tolerance - Just like traditional vampires, they cannot go in sunlight, as it can lead to their bodies to burn, decay or even explode. Although these effects are dependent on the pure-blood's age, genetics and their decomposition process.

(4) Due to most mouths being permanent from birth, they cannot camouflage their mouths nor make it disappear. As a result, it causes pure-bloods to be susceptible to their environment, leading to these extra mouths being infected. It also does not help the fact that these pure-bloods are decomposing bodies, since decomposed areas can leave the mouths no longer usable. Thus, many vampires wear long-sleeved clothing to hide these mouths - and over time - learn how to gain blood without being detected!

(5) 99% of the time pure-bloods have pale, veiny skin since they lack blood; but that doesn't mean they don't have any. In fact, the chemical that makes up their blood is called Pyrotoxinum (fire + poison). Pyrotoxinum is a black, poisonous chemical that is highly reactive with sunlight and human blood. It's composition is similar to blood, and it tastes like oil and grease. It is corrosive to skin after being exposed in sunlight, can be colorless in sunlight, and is odorless. Lastly, Pyrotoxinum is also poisonous when being ingested, making it a useful tool for humans and vampires to kill people in their sleep, and cause explosions to occur. So be extremely careful when coming across pure-bloods!

(6) With so many mouths, extremely pale skin, and no sun tolerance - pure-bloods are super easy to detect. Hence, many pure-bloods do not openly integrate themselves within human society. This means they use their environment particularly well, making them incredible predators.

(7) Unfortunately, pure-bloods can only drink blood. Eating meats, grains, and dairy is out of the question, since all human food comes from the sun. Besides, pure-bloods are not a fan of organ failure and dying an explosive death lol

(8) Ductility - Pure-bloods are able to stretch their body parts whenever their please, and return to their normal size. This ability works well for middle-aged vampires, since in their younger years - their body goes through puberty and other hormonal changes. Although, it appears in teens, it is recommended by older vampires to not dabble in this ability until they're older. They can receive training for it though!

Bonus: Short comparison between PURE-bloods and TRADITIONAL vampires

(B - Both , P - Purebloods , T - Traditional , TBD - To Be Decided)

Undead? - B

Fangs? - B

No reflection? - T

Superhuman Strength, Speed, Senses and Healing? - B

Hypnotic Eyes? - B

Shapeshifting? - B

Aversion to Holy Symbols? - T

Stake Thru the Heart? - B

Fire? - B

Invitation Needed to Enter? - TBD

Running Water? - If you mean washing your hands and rubbing your face, then T. But if it's exposed to sunlight e.g. rivers, pools? Then B.

(1) Hemomancy is the ability to control your blood in the form of weaponry, shielding, etc. This is because the human blood in their body serves as fuel for their vampiric blood. The vampire blood acts a conductor, allowing them to channel the life energy within themselves! It is by far the easiest, and notable ability that most half-vampires have.

(2) Frenzied Enhancement is an uncontrolled, bloodthirsty state that occurs immediately when drinking blood or seconds after drinking. Although it's risky, it helps half-breeds activate their strength and abilities (huge difference!!!). In simpler terms, drinking blood acts like a key to a closed treasure chest. Drinking blood is purely optional, and simply an additional tool for half-breeds to survive. However, due to vialene being reduced, half-bloods are unable to lower their adrenaline - causing a lack of self-control.

(3) Sun Tolerance - Compared to pure-bloods, most half-bloods are able to go in the sunlight without problems. Their human halves need sunlight, so having sun tolerance is a major plus!

(4) Stemming from genetics and adaptation, half-bloods have the ability to camouflage their mouths. They are able to move these mouths around, assimilate it into their skin, and in rare cases remove it from their skin completely! This process is similar to blood clotting, which is why their body is compatible with such major changes. This ability is by far one of the most envied by pure-bloods!

(5) Another trait that half-bloods can have are patchy, mosaic skin. This skin condition can come in the form of stitches, spots and spirals. Most of the vampiric race believes that this patchy skin substitutes extra body parts, e.g. the mouth. However, the reasoning behind it remains a mystery to most, since this condition has become rarer in the current generation of half-breeds (which Karma falls into).

(6) Since half-bloods are practically human, they are hard to detect appearance-wise. This doesn't stop modern methods from finding them through vialene tests, sensory overload, starvation, etc. Hence, many half-bloods try to build their endurance and stamina to remain undetected. Sometimes half-bloods even try to live off without vialene, which normally goes to shit if you're not careful. But it is possible - there's even a myth about it!

(7) Another ability that pure-bloods envy are half-bloods being able to eat human food and drink blood! Usually, many half-bloods have a strong preference of one over the other. Either way, half-bloods can live on a blood-only diet or a human-based diet. But it is strongly recommended by older generations to ingest both, since it can cause hormonal and emotional imbalances. So it's best to be on the safe side!

(8) Fixed shape - Fortunately, half-bloods are unable to twist and stretch their body parts. This is thanks to their human side kicking in, and hemoglobin being pumped around the body. Pyrotoxinum in most cases, is quite dormant. It is only activated when half-bloods use hemomancy, in fight/flight/freeze mode and possibly more!

Bonus: Short comparison between HALF-bloods and TWILIGHT vampires

(B - Both , H - Halfbloods , T - Twilight , TBD - To Be Decided)

Do they have sparkling skin in sunlight? - T

Superhuman Beauty - B, but it is not as potent as the Twilight vampires in my honest opinion.

Superhuman Strength, Speed, Senses, and Stamina? - B

Invulnerable? - T

Diamond-Hard Skin? - T. But I'd argue that falls under pure-bloods lol

Thirst for Blood? - T

Superficial Sleep? - T

No Religious Restrictions? - B

Enhanced Emotions? - TBD

Vulnerable to Fire? - T

Decapitation? - B

Bloodlust? - DEF B

Covens? - T. I wouldn't describe their family-like groups as covens, but as cliques? I don't have a full on name for it as yet...

Mate Bonds? - T

Transformation? - TBD, but I think transformation would be more suited to pure-bloods.

If you're curious about anything stated here, feel free to blast my inbox (lol)!

Once again thank you for the amazing ask @mylovelyhorror ! I hope you all continue sending your asks - thirsty, unthirsty, romantic, or just pure fluff! MWAH 💋💋💋 trust me guys i'm not dead i swear

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eightyonekilograms · 2 months ago

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My only other electricity market comment for today is that, as great as it is to see grid-scale storage going hockey-stick-shaped, a little part of me is disappointed that it's mostly just chemical batteries. We probably won't get any of those wacky storage ideas like the trains full of rock that go up and down mountains, or the towers that are continuously assembled and disassembled. Oh well.

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kadextra · 1 year ago

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The Eggs

A lore overview & theory longpost :]

Let's start with a recap. The eggs were given by the Federation to the island residents to care for. A backstory was also given by Pato, saying the eggs were left behind by a dragon mother who flew off after the wall explosion. An egg has 2 lives, if it dies you get punished, if it's alive and happy you get a prize. But nobody really cares about a prize anymore, all the parents love their eggs sooo much that just being together with them is a prize. The eggs have developed unique, endearing personalities and have become a central part of the narrative in such a massive way that it'd take hours to describe. Some sadly passed on, and more eggs have joined the cast as new players arrived.

The Code Entity

A strange entity made of binary code began to hunt down the eggs, viciously attacking and bringing them all down to one life. The reason why is still unknown, but it seems to want the residents to leave the island. I'll make a separate lore post about this guy eventually, there's a lot to say theory-wise and a lot we still don't know about it.

The Strange Cracks

At one point, all the eggs were kidnapped from their homes in the night. The announcement of their return said they would be given back "unharmed" but they returned with odd cracks in them, as if they were injured. The eggs all acted unusually scared and extra fragile after the incident, and couldn't wear armor without pain. They slowly regained their confidence after a few days and went back to normal, along with a eggstatistics change saying they've "matured."

The Heaven Meetings

When an egg dies, the Federation gives the parents 5-10 minutes to say farewells in a white room. It's always really wholesome and emotional to watch. But lots of questions can be raised about how the Federation seem to have the power to revive an egg from the dead in the first place. If they can do it for 10 minutes, why can't they just... revive them permanently? q!Max asked his egg son Trump why he couldn't just leave during his meeting, and got answers alluding that the egg was trapped there. That "they" are too powerful, so he can't leave. What's really going on here? Are the dead eggs even dead?

Case of Richarlyson

The Brazilians noticed that their egg, Richarlyson had one smaller leg compared to the rest, as if he was underdeveloped. And strangely, he also had a weird substance left on him (visually shown as a slimeball) which they thought could be part of the mother dragon's placenta. q!Cellbit gave the sample to supercomputer SOFIA to analyze, the results being given a few days later. Turns out, the substance's composition had zero traces of DNA, it wasn't even biological. Instead, it was found to be some type of chemical preservation fluid... meaning Richarlyson was in some kind of stasis/storage before being given to the Brazilians, and rushed out at such short notice he couldn't even be cleaned off in time.

The Pomme DNA Test

A sample of the newest & youngest egg's DNA, Pomme, was given to SOFIA to analyze. The genetic results were:

65% Oxygen, 18% Carbon, 10% Hydrogen, 3% Nitrogen, 1.5% Calcium, 1% Phosphorus, Potassium, Sulfur, Sodium, Chlorine, Magnesium. These results are normal for a biological composition of a living creature. However, there were also traces of "unusual elements" in the DNA....

Silicon, Gold, Cobalt, Copper, Palladium, Cadmium, Bismuth, Uranium.

Silicon is used for making alloys.

Gold is a valuable metal.

Copper is a metal used as an electric conductor.

Palladium is a rare metal, also used for electronics.

Cadmium is a heavy metal used to make batteries and it's also toxic.

Bismuth is a crystalline metal again used for electronic appliances.

Uranium is literally radioactive and used for nuclear power.

HUH? These elements and metals are totally unnatural to find traces of in a living creature. edit: this is wrong, these elements and metals are common to find traces of in a living creature. However, SOFIA said they are unusual in the eggs. What does this mean..?

Connections

What if I told you there is a certain type of egg where it's normal to find metals all over?

Fabergé eggs.

Fabergé eggs are valuable decorative eggs made with crystals and rare metals like gold. And it just so happens that as a lead-up to the QSMP, Quackity Studios released a teaser image, with morse code inside leading to a document where many suspicious letters, including this one was found:

This potential connection can't be ignored. Real Fabergé eggs obviously aren't alive like our little eggs, but it's entirely possible that thanks to the traces of metals in their composition, the name is being used as a codeword to refer to them.

All of these things considered, don't forget that the eggs are still living creatures. The "unusual" parts in the genetic makeup are very few compared to oxygen, carbon, calcium, etc. Most of the weird ones do happen to relate to electronics and machines, but if anything, it's likely that the eggs could be cyborgs - a biological organism that's just enhanced with technological parts.

It's becoming more and more evident that the "dragon mother" story is a load of hogwash. The eggs might've been developed in a lab, and transported to the island by the Federation. Whatever intentions or experiment they have running, we don't know... but these poor eggs have no idea about any of this. They are innocent and being used.

They just existed one day, got adopted and began to know love. And no matter what happens, no matter what they really are, dragons or not, we and the parents will continue to love them <3

#qsmp #qsmp analysis #qsmp theory #text post #long post #qsmp federation #qsmp eggs

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d3m0l1t10n-lvrs · 5 months ago

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AAAAAAA OKAY I CAN'T HOLD IT IN ANY LONGER!!!!!!!!! I MADE A NEW AU!!!!!

IT'S SET IN THE UNIVERSE OF MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE'S ALBUM, "DANGER DAYS"

HERE'S SUNS DESIGN

CLOSE UPS AND MORE INFO UNDER CUT

OKAY so welcome to the Danger Days AU!! Let me give you a bit of a run down for people who aren't familiar with the album!

Nuclear war has broken out, and the only humans left are in the western/Desert part of the US. In the middle of California, the dystopian prison of Battery City sits. In Battery City, everyone is unfeeling, mindless, not human, almost. Controlled by Better Living Industries via pills, they follow their every command.

Outside of Battery City are "The Zones". The Zones are 6 rings outside of Battery City, the more far out the zone is, the higher the radiation. In The Zone, live the rebels, better known as "Killjoys". These individuals fight back against Better Living Industries, sporting the flashiest clothes and the biggest personalities.

This is where you come in! You are a Killjoy residing in Zone 5, along with your gang, Sundaze (Sun), Moonshine (Moon), Trash Queen (Chica), Desert Drift (Roxy), Big Guy (Monty), and of course, Cassie. The one who has the power to stop Better Living Industries. (Also Freddy's there but I can't think of a Killjoy name for him yet lol)

Your mission is to keep Cassie safe, and destroy Better Living Industries, or die trying.

It's death or victory, Killjoys!

BTW KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED FOR A FIC!!!! COMING SOON <333

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wolven91 · 7 months ago

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Drifting - Part 8

Casper knew there was something wrong straight away, albeit he didn't know what exactly had just happened. He had felt a flare of pain and suddenly his entire chest felt heavy, it didn't feel right. That alone was enough to set his mind racing.

His mind, supported by the software, warned him of the horrific damaged caused by the over-penetrating strike. There was shock, his brain dumped as many chemicals as it thought would help immediately into his own system, but the software listed his problems very neatly, allowing him to prioritise.

His optics clicked as he struggled, it was as if someone had strapped a thick, unyielding, belt across and around his torso, before heaving it as tight as they could possibly make it. His arm lowered, still holding the sword aloft in his victory pose, it's spout of intense heat dying and going out. His hand, still grasping the hilt, touched at his chest, he was still intact, he could see the metal, it's paint was scratched and marred, but he wasn't destroyed.

He wanted to sigh in relief, to breathe, to take in a steadying breath and clear this tightness.

Casper did what he had always done, and breathed deep, only for the vents across his chest, to remain closed. They twitched and sparked, but unlike every time before, where they had opened and flooded his heart with the rich oxygen of the training fields, this time they stayed closed. If Casper's face could contort, show worry, or perhaps fear, it would have. Instead, his optics clicked and whirred, the camera apertures dilating in panic.

He stumbled forward and tried again. 'Steady. Breathe in through the nose.'

The giant pair of intake turbines that sat within his chest, sputtered, and sparked. The connection to the main unit meant they received the order to spin up, to feed the furnace that was sat at the centre of his chest, but they couldn't comply. One of the turbines was outright gone. The majority of it was now scattered in a straight line leading away from the rig, following the path of the super dense round.

The other turbine tried it's best and the blades began to move, but they were sluggish. The metal blades caught and screeched as they scratched debris into the housing of the intake. The devastation of the round hadn't just destroyed internal systems, it had peppered the untouched areas with super-heated fragments that melted and burn holes in a sea of critical parts.

Qik's shot was perfectly landed, exactly right, to cause the whole machine to shutdown safely and eject the pilot. A kill shot. The average machine would be completely disabled. The machine that had just taken her shot, weeks before, was a mere object. It was inert as a rock, simply complicated in makeup. It too, would have fallen over with any other pilot.

But the spirit that drove this thing, that worked as the masterful conductor that led the collection of lifeless parts into movement and action had willed his mind and personality into all things. The amps in the wires pulsed like a heartbeat. The ones and zeros that may have made up the many layers of software may have begun as cold, unfeeling systems, now in fact; *desired* to work as intended. Emotion drove this machine as much as logic did.

The batteries sprung awake, switching from charging to output; the reactor was without O2! 'Turbines! To life!' They screamed.

Turbine Two was KIA and remained silent. The machine would mourn its loss later.

Turbine One was severely wounded, but it's fans could move. It could do its job. The turbine added as much torque to its fans as it could to push past the debris and get the airflow back!

The batteries, working in tandem, broke protocol and devoted more power than normal to the last remaining lifeline. The computerised systems, guided by the pilot's will to live, instantly stepped in and disconnected all the hard locked safety features, overclocking its systems beyond any recommended redline. Dying was not merely turning off, it was the great oblivion. The machine had no desire to turn to off for the final time. It wasn't ready to go yet.

Geckin engineers would be baffled later reading the reports. This machine should have seen the danger in still going and ejected the pilot to safety; away from the potential explosion of a reactor that was online, but without oxygen. But unbeknownst to them, the software was faced with a millennia of survival instincts of the pilot's layered mind. A thousand computer specialists, backed by an army of wet work AIs; couldn't have resisted the sheer force of will from Casper as his mind, dropping into survival instincts and, the lizard, the mammal, and the ape, all demanding his body to live.

His body was the machine, the machine would comply. It *would* live.

Turbine One's fan blades completed a rotation, then a second, and a third before it's RPM began to sore once more! One fan blade was sparking as it caught the casing, but it didn't matter; the 02 intake was climbing!

The vents across the mech's chest slapped open and the exhausts at the back belched an unhealthy-looking plume of black smoke. Casper had power, one lung was collapsed, but he could breathe. He could fight. He turned to the threat he felt like heat across the side of his face. His sensor suite was untouched and knew the exact point of danger.

Qik rose her rig's 'head' up to observe the human's rig stumble forward after taking the hit, just like he was supposed to. But then he straightened, black smoke rising from him, and looked her way. He wasn't supposed to do that. Qik's rig ducked its head and lined up another shot. She'd taken out hundreds of geckin pilots with that exact same shot, the pilot's will to go on didn't matter; the mech should have deactivated and ejected him away. This was the final lesson, this was supposed to be routine.

'Tough bastard.' But Qik kept that thought to herself.

Casper wasn't even thinking at this point, all he could see was red. He was hurt! Injured! There was danger! Run! Fight! Hide! Run! Fight! Hide!

The optics instantly clicked, focusing, and seeing the former ally crouched in the mouth of the hangers, with a giant weapon pointed his way. Red targeting highlights marked her.

Unbidden, the software told his animalistic mind that Qik was pointing a Maestrik 120mm/L61 cannon his way. Despite never seeing this weapon before, Casper knew it was unwieldy, unsuitable for active warzones, with the exception of fortified positions and overwatch operations. She had advantage, side to side movement wouldn't help. It was fully capable of destroying him with a single round, regardless of the ammunition loaded. There was no hiding, not even going to ground could protect him from what was pointed at him. There was no retreat. There was no hiding.

All this information was instantly provided and understood by the three layers of the human's brain before the lopeljack could prepare the next shot.

"Fight!" The Ape, The Mammal and The Lizard, all screamed in unison. The machine obeyed.

His mech launched forwards at the threat.

Turbine One on its own couldn't feed enough O2 into the boosters to bring him closer to the danger in time, the calculations all declared he would fail. With the safeguards gone however, the software whispered that he had a chance... The reactor was willed into overdrive, spinning it up to maximum output, damning the consequences. The rods inside would eventually melt through the metal housing, but it would give him the edge! The boosters on Casper's back, usually gave off a lovey blue and white jet that burnt clean when it activated, but the flames that spewed out now, pushing his speed past what was possible on his own, was a dirty yellow, smoke and smog billowing out as a trail before it began to slowly change to blue in colour as the core temperature began to cascade upwards.

Qik was ready now, as Casper closed the distance. His rig raised the metal shield still bolted to his arm up, to protect his body, all the while the top of his recon unit's casing poked over the top; his optics never once leaving her.

'A good hunter's eyes never wander...' She mused.

The barrel roared and the entire atmosphere in the hanger warped and hiccupped as the force and concussive blast of the gun sent anything not firmly nailed down, flying. The round travelled the short distance in less than a blink. The world was moving in slow motion for Casper, so his optics saw the point of the spinning round as it destroyed one half of his reconnaissance unit. The round whistled into the distance, destroying several banks of dirt before eventually burying itself into the dirt. The rig flinched with the force of the shot, turning with the resulting air vortex of the round, but it was only a moment's distraction before the tiny red dot in the centre of the optic's aperture locked onto to Qik once more.

Cold. Dispassionate. Casper kept going.

Catastrophic damage was registered across his face, he'd lost radio, sensors and lidar, but the enemy was in front of him, he had committed and considered nothing else now. He cocked his arm, aligning the sword's hilt over the top of his shield to plunge it into the enemy's chest as soon as she was in range. He just needed a few more seconds.

The third and final shell tore Casper in half.

The vortex the shell created, added to the damage done by the round to the mech's midsection, disconnected both legs and sent the torso falling forwards, rolling into the dirt. A moment later, a small armoured circular aperture opened, and a tiny, human sized sarcophagus was fired into the sky, away from the unit's corpse. The reactor ignited and the mech began to burn and melt. It would continue to do so for several hours before it eventually laid there as a ruined husk into the night.

To Casper, he didn't feel the damage that 'killed' him, but he felt what it was like for his soul to be torn from his body. Like a crustation or arachnid, he felt his arms and legs be pulled from within the mech's limbs, shedding them like an old moult. He was pulled up, gathered into a tiny pathetic ball, and thrown from the back of the mech into the sky before he was deadened to the sensations of the world once more and thrust into the void. It was a mental trauma unlike anything else, Casper *knew* what it was like to die in violence now and for his very soul to be ripped from its home.

In the void, Casper wailed. Screaming into the nothingness at the awful sensations that he had just been forced through. He only stopped when he felt the exhaustion of the recent events catch up to him.

== 0 ==

Wren watched the pilot sarcophagus with disconnected professionalism. The engineering crew were well trained and moved with purpose and fluidity. The seal popped and the biological team stepped up. One of theirs stepped down into the casket and hooked two fabric loops under something out of Wren's sight. The geckin doctor knew it would be the human's arms.

At a curt hand signal to the crane operator, the human was lifted from the coffin-like structure, limp and unmoving. His body was slick with sweat and the room stank of his odour. It always did. Wren had hidden her disgust the first few times, but once she realised that the human was barely even conscious when he was retrieved from the mech, she'd stopped trying. He was lowered and gracelessly placed onto a gurney next to her. At least he hadn't vomited on himself this time. It wasn't that she cared for him, it just smelt even worse.

Wren knew other species felt emotions differently to geckins, she was a biologist after all, knowing how they thought was how they were winning the ongoing war with the ssypno. So, with 'Casper', she had adopted the persona of a care giver. It was a fairly easy act to pull off, she 'cooed' and 'fussed' over the human to ensure his cooperation, but that was no longer needed. He was obviously addicted to the Full Submersion Control, but its effects were lasting for the human. It took him time to recover where he was disoriented. Not to mention he was no longer property under the control of the geckin people. Damn that lopel for poisoning her hard work. Zeet had genuinely cared for the creature, thrilled to have found a worthy pilot for his life's work. Wren just wanted to peel back his skull and see how to recreate his strengths.

Now she was frustratingly obligated to tick the boxes to protect the geckin people. Mostly from the ire of the GC, should they ask what welfare checks they had put in place and attempt to accuse them of damaging the rarest species if all this went the way they expected. For all their faults, they would claim their tails should the geckins be found wanting in this regard. Falling out of their graces would do no good for keeping ssypno aggression in check.

"Sit him up." She ordered, stepping up the creature. Her research had come on leaps and bounds. The idea of near zero drift was unheard of and very, very interesting to the geckin private sector that paid for Wren's research. The geckin government had stepped away and had stopped protecting him now that the human was destined to no longer be their problem.

Wren sneered in uncovered disgust as she looked him over. Its flesh was clammy and pale, lacking the protection or brilliance of scales. When it had arrived, its flesh was pinkish brown. There were sections and areas where he was outright pale, obviously the skin was always covered by clothing in these areas, but now his skin was uniformly ashen, nearly grey throughout.

"Touch your fingers." She ordered curtly, raising her voice and getting a reaction from the creature. More of a flinch than acknowledgment. He didn't comply at first, his eyes, dull now, searching the room before finding her. She raised her arms and effortlessly touched her fingertips to her thumbs in a series, prompting him. She didn't like how his lips looked damaged, as if he'd been chewing them. Normal? Or a side effect?

"Touch your fingers." She instructed again, bored of this already. Her claws clacked against each other, giving a 'tik, tik, tik' sound that felt loud in the hanger bay.

The human complied, slowly raising his hands which both shook violently, as if he were shivering. It was slow at first. The task was to touch his thumb to the tips of each of his fingertips in a row, then back. He missed or made a fist at first before slowly coming back to his real body. It was as if they were training a pilot inside a mech, but the other way around. After a minute or so, he succeeded, Wren wasted no time.

"Touch your toes."

This one he did right away. She used to make him stand up and stretch, without bending his knees to touch his toes. Now he merely folded them at the knee while he sat there and brushed his hand against any part of his foot that he could reach. Good enough to her; instructions didn't say not to bend his knees.

"You're fine, get food and rest. No piloting tomorrow." More than enough medical care to appease a board. How 'kind' of her to prevent him from piloting for his welfare.

The human nodded, before shuffling towards the edge of the gurney and gingerly touching his toes to the floor. As he left, his gait was like a corpse that had come back to life, shuffling and lurching from one leg to the other. He wrapped his arms around himself and almost fell forwards, away from the geckins. He now walked as the geckin biological community had expected his gait when they had heard there was a biped species without a tail. Wren had turned back to her notes before Casper had left the hanger, before eventually disappearing from sight.

Wren merely sighed, already dismissing him from her mind. She'd like to get access to his brain before any long-term damage or even sudden damage occurred to it. But she'd settle for the plan offered by her benefactors. Either way, she'd get to play with that brain once it was in her lab, she often won these games if she just remained patient.

== 0 ==

"Casper?" Asked a voice, causing the formley lone occupant of the corridor to blink. He had been slumped against a wall, still standing, but gathering his strength. The haggard young man turned and looked back the way he had come, to now find the lopel mercenary, Qik standing there. He frowned, unsure if she was actually in the corridor with him, and reached out a hand to ensure she was real. She raised her own hand and caught his with ease.

"Hey Qik, sorry, I was daydreaming." Casper murmured before pulling his hand back before she caught the tremor that wouldn't stop. His skin physically ached where the soft pads of her hands had touched him.

"Sounds fun. Shall we get you to your quarters?" She asked, tilting her head, and watching him curiously. Casper merely nodded and made a concerted effort to walk with his back straight and steady rhythm to where his door waited for him. He touched the back of his hand to the sensor and the door slid aside with a hiss.

He stepped in, holding back a sigh until he was alone but was surprised when Qik followed without waiting for an invitation. He released his sigh and merely keyed the door shut behind her, too tired to protest. Ignoring her, he began to walk over to his bed, fully intending on falling into it until he woke up again. Qik's words caused him to pause and turn to look at her.

"I'm sorry I shot you." Qik started, feeling oddly guilty. "I'm sorry I shot you multiple times..." She added after a moment's consideration. She was a mercenary; he was hardly the first person she had shot. She hadn't even hurt him. But she felt... guilt. She knew that he felt truly connected to his rigs, whatever configuration they were. She didn't like to think whether he felt anything more than damage reports.

The human shrugged, his eyes were sunken, darkened and bruised as if he'd been hit in the face. He looked bone tired, smelt ill and his clothes, the human made tshirt he had arrived in that he wore now, hung off him. He'd lost weight. More then that, he'd stopped caring for himself and the geckin were obviously not offering that support either. They wouldn't now he'd played his hand and burnt bridges to leave.

"You're not having something to eat?" She asked, noting the pile of mess in his kitchen area.

"I'm not hungry." Casper explained simply, before going silent. With nothing more to say, he merely turned, shuffled again towards the oversized bed and physically collapsed into it. Clothes and all.

Qik blinked.

She was a mercenary of renown. The only reason she'd been stuck here for so long was because she was a lopel of her word, she'd signed a contract and would not leave until she completed that. It was a lifetime of work to gain a reputation of professionalism, but all it took was one bad contract and all that could be shaken. For her to be free once more, she just needed the next fight. She didn't *need* the human.

However.

In all her time as a mercenary, she'd seen many different types of pilots. Some were disconnected and professional about their work. Others were passionate, taking each contract as a bet against their own pride or skill. Not to mention the whole spectrum between.

So Qik had seen pilots like Casper before, they were the ones who had got into the trade for the wrong reasons. Money, Fear, Fleeing justice. It didn't matter, they were without hope and slowly wasted away. The lopel wasn't blind, she could see and hear just how animated the human became inside his rig. How withdrawn he was without it. He was addicted. It was obvious and should be obvious to him too.

But no one had explained about the seduction of the machine to him. No one had taken them under their wing, to explain that he had to care for himself. To know there was more than just the machine or eventually he wouldn't be able to pilot anything again. She was training him, yes, but did that mean that he was her responsibility? She didn't want an apprentice. She had just needed a way of salvaging her reputation from when he had first piloted a mech and fluked a draw.

She closed her eyes and sighed, turning her arm over and running two fingers over the bald circle on her inner forearm. It was one of the ports where she connected to her own rig. No one had taught her anything, she'd learnt it all the hard way.

But... she had to admit... She would have liked it if someone to have given a shit about her when she had started out...

Without a word, she left the main room to find the bathroom unit off to one side. As she fiddled with the dials, the large tub began to fill with hot water that steamed in the cold air of the living space. The console would handle the filling and dispensing of cleaning products into the fresh water.

As she watched the water rise, Qik considered how ace pilots often felt powerful inside a mech. They felt invincible. It *was* addictive. With their low drift, it meant there were very few reminders that the machine was not the ace's body. It was only the hiccups and delayed orders that brought pilots back to reality. The rigs were as dangerous to the enemy as they were to themselves.

As the tub filled, Qik strode over to the kitchen, where a pile of half-eaten high-nutrient slurry trays lay discarded. It only took her a few minutes, but she binned it all and filled a fresh bowl, warming it until it was piping hot. The slurry wasn't great, the appearance was of a lumpy mush and the taste was about the same. But if Casper ate two trays per day, he'd maintain his weight. If she could get three in him, he might actually gain something back onto his bones. The human was far too thin, no way was he an example of a 'healthy' human right now.

The bathroom unit pinged and one of the lopeljack's ears twitched. The bath was ready and an appropriate temperature.

Casper was so far gone that he barely woke as Qik rolled him gently onto his back. She removed his clothes with careful, respectful hands before slipping her arms beneath his knees and around his shoulders. He weighed nothing to her. He wasn't as small as a geckin, far from it, but even with her limited knowledge, he shouldn't be this light.

Walking the short distance, without his shirt, she paid attention to his body. She analysed it, like a doctor or field medic, dispassionate to his nudity. His ribs were well defined through the skin, and his collarbone stretched the thin looking skin taut. He looked like a refugee.

She shook her head as she gently lowered him into the steaming water, careful not to shock him or jostle him too much. His body jerked at the touch of water, and pale blue eyes cracked open, his head lolling limply against her arm as she settled him in the water. One hand never left him as she grabbed a washcloth and applied soap, before beginning to gently wash his body.

"...What... What are you doing?"

"I'm looking after you." She explained carefully. She used short, clear sentences, loud and curt enough to hear him, but softened the usual edge to her voice.

"I'm.. f-fine." He mumbled, trying to assure her he didn't need effort on his part.

"You don't look fine Casper, does anything hurt?" She asked, paying attention to dark splotches that created odd patches on his back. It could be bruising from when the pilot sarcophagus came back down to earth after being ejected from the rig. She asked her question and deliberately ran the cloth over these patches, noticing the flinch in the human's body.

"That... that uh..." He murmured, still very much confused and muddled, his voice went up an octave, wincing again. If Qik didn't miss her guess, she suspected he was in shock.

"A bit tender?" She asked softly.

"Uh huh." He mumbled, nodding his head jerkily. She let him sit back against the edge of the bath and began washing down his arms.

"Is there anything else that's bothering you? Anything else you can tell me about Casper?" She asked again, using his name to bring him back.

"My skin... hurts..." He admitted, blinking back tears, his eyes, already bloodshot, now swimming.

"It's the Nerve-Suit, the water will help it pass Casper, you're doing great. We just need to get you clean, okay?" She assured him, gently wiping over his chest, then continuing down his other arm.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

"You shot me... I... Don't... Didn't..." He was confused, in shock, did he think she had hit him because he had angered her?

"It's okay Casper. It wasn't your fault; you did everything correctly. It was just the final lesson, to teach you the limits of your mech, to know that you can't let your guard down. To know..." She looked into his eyes before she finished her sentence. She was gladdened to see that his eyes were awake... and aware. She blinked and gave him a rueful smile.

"To know you're not invincible." She finished, touching a warm, wet paw to his cheek. Touching him, reminding him that he could feel things. Casper sighed and closed his eyes, his hand reaching up and gingerly hold the back of her hand. They stayed there for a moment, Qik not rushing him in any way.

Eventually, he reached for the cloth.

"I'll... finish..." He explained, before adding "I needed this I think."

Qik just gave a knowing smirk.

"'You think'?" She snorted. "Don't doubt me if I tell you to do something. Deal?" Demanded the lopel as she relinquished the cloth to the human's hands. In the brief moment that they touched her hand, she felt the warmth in his skin again. The cold clammy feeling of his skin, no more. He still looked sickly however, and the cheekbones that dominated his face told her of what else he needed.

"Deal." The human said, squeezing the cloth and began washing himself, seemingly losing the self-conscious taboo that had held sway over him whenever they got changed together. Qik stood and left the bathroom, striding over to the kitchen and retrieving the slurry bowl. She picked up a spoon and returned. The human glanced up, his eyes flicking to the bowl and grimaced.

"Oh, come o-..." He began, but the merc was having none of it.

"You will eat." Qik declared. The young man's shoulders sagged, and he nodded, briefly running the wash cloth down his legs.

Qik folded herself down, dipping the spoon into the white and pinkish goop, before offering it to him.

"This is embarrassing." Casper bemoaned before having the spoon ladle the mixture onto his tongue where he didn't need to chew before swallowing. They repeated these three or four times whilst Qik replied.

"Then it's a lesson. Feed yourself after each deployment and I don't need to do this. Every time you don't; either me or someone from our company will do it." She grinned wickedly. "Can't wait to see some of the guys playing 'here comes the draconian' with you." She teased, knowing that it was not an idle threat, even if he didn't know yet.

"I'll eat. I promise I'll eat." Casper swore around a mouthful before swallowing again. "How come I've... wasted away like this?" His hands gestured to himself, the tendons standing proud. She considered her words before explaining.

"Ignoring you not eating, FSC is intensive. Your brain is working full time to control every single subsystem of the rig. Brains are hungry. Lack of any food and it'll eat away at you instead." Qik pointed out succinctly.

"How come you don't look like this then?" Casper asked, while Qik noticed his wandering eyes. She wasn't annoyed.

"I'm a career girl. I look after myself. I exercise, I eat, I get sunlight. All mechs, all the time? That's a fast track to being a husk. Plus, it's a shallower slope for us lopels to slip down." She added at the end, spoon finally hitting the bottom of the bowl as she continued to feed Casper, despite him having both hands free again. The water was a different colour now... The filth and grime finally removed from him.

"How do you mean?" He asked.

"It's all about your drift. You could out manoeuvre me, quite easily. Sure, my training might give me an edge, but you've got that beginner's chaos, trained pilots won't know how to handle you, you make choices that aren't normal. The lack of drift means your brain is handling more, however. Less drift, more intense the usage. I have about one, maybe two percent drift. As long as I take breaks, look after myself, eat my veggies; I'll keep myself looking fine." She said, putting the empty bowl to one side. It was only mild, but she felt that he had gained a bit of colour in his cheeks.

Casper sloshed the water as he brought his hand up to look at his fingers. The water was beginning to prune them. He touched his thumb to his fingertips in series, then did it the other way. Perfect each time.

He felt... human again.

"Since you're pretty much done with training now, we need to think of your callsign." The lopel who was still crouched next to him said nonchalantly. She was currently resting her arms on the edge of the bath, still sat on the floor, with her chin resting on her arms as she watched him.

"My callsign?"

"New Guy doesn't really inspire 'fear', does it?" She asked. Casper blinked and realised that she was talking sense, again. He'd need something, a name that connects to him personally. He thought of what he knew of callsigns and decided he needed a 'cool' one.

"Maverick?" He offered.

"*No*." The rabbit-like alien snapped. "There's like a million 'Mavericks' and they're all assholes." Qik immediately retorted, shooting that idea down rather rapidly. Casper sighed and grimaced at the water again, it was actually gross, now that he thought about it.

"I think I need to get out."

"Mm, water's gone bad." Qik agreed, standing and grabbing a towel. The large cut of fabric was designed for larger species than the geckins, the whole living quarters were, but seemingly for something just a bit bigger than a human. Like a lopeljack. The lopel grinned and looked away, holding the towel out as a makeshift curtain as the human stepped from the bath, intending on grabbing the towel from her.

Instead, the lopel grabbed the human into the towel, covering him briefly, spinning him in place, before escaping into the living area, laughing at the human's indignant squawk.

Casper freed himself and glared at the retreating short, stumpy, white fluffy tail of the lopel and had to consider it was a nice view. Turning to the bathroom counter, above the sinks was a mirror that reflected everything. There was a pale monster in the room with him.

Casper, blinking, focused and realised the creature was *him*. He was truly pale and gaunt. He'd known that he'd lost weight over his training, but this was dramatic. He looked sick. He looked *dead*.

"I really do look like a ghost..." He agreed to no one.

"What's a 'ghost'?" Called Qik, doing *something* in the other room. Running water and clinking gave the man hints.

"Uh.. A ghost, a spectre. The dead with unfinished business. They're usually really pale; you can't always see them. They can be friendly, or they can be pretty nasty. We got kid's tales and horror stories of all kinds with ghosts." He explained, leaning forwards and pulling the darkened flesh around his eyes taut, feeling how thin it felt.

Qik's head appeared around the doorframe in the mirror, pulling his attention.

"Perfect. You're 'Spectre' then." The head disappeared immediately, leaving Casper frowning before whipping his around to stare at the empty space incredulously.

"Excuse me?" The young man demanded, feeling energy diffuse him like no meal or sleep could.

"Would you prefer the callsign; Ghost?"

"Aw man, that's too on the nose! My name is *Casper* for Christ's sake!"

"And 'Maverick' the single most overused callsign was a better idea? Nah, I'm your sponsor into the company, I'm registering you as either 'Spectre' or 'Ghost'."

"For fucks sake." Casper groaned, leaving the bathroom to find the lopel had tided the kitchen very neatly, and was now flicking the heavy blanket out, neatening it and preparing the bed.

"Come on. Bed. I don't know about you, but I'm tired." She ordered, merely tilting her head..

"Together?" The young man asked, glancing from the bed to the merc.

"Yes. My place is on the other side of the complex because they didn't trust that I wouldn't kill you in your sleep for breaking my mech first time round." She explained as if explaining something simple or obvious. Casper merely blinked and stared.

"Is that true?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, I got bored when they were building your second rig and broke into the offices." She remembered with a grin, placing a fist on her hip. "Read their comments that they were worried I'd end you, but those files prove that they got their dirty little claws into all sorts of devious shit." Qik explained in a false hushed whisper.

Casper walked over and at her urging clambered into the bed first as she continued.

"Honestly, I can't wait to get out of here, I think you'll do better away as well. We just gotta' play smart." She explained, crowding him by swinging a leg under the covers and using her wide hips to bounce him further into the covers. The lopeljack was certainly bottom heavy, whilst her top half was muscled, her hips and thighs were exaggerated, but not unpleasant to look at from Casper's perspective.

Now they shared his bed.

He lay there for a time as the lights winked out and stayed dead still, facing the ceiling with his hands resting on his stomach, over the covers. He wasn't expecting a visitor, nor for the lopel to ever enter his bed. Whilst the young man felt a thousand times better than he did before getting home, he was now more confused than when he had been freshly pulled from the pilot's casket.

There was the sound of movement to his left and he felt the mattress warp as Qik turned over.

"Turn away from me." She instructed. Unthinking, he complied, turning to his right and facing the wall, more confused than embarrassed now.

A silky soft, muscular furry arm, snaked underneath his head, whilst a large warm body shuffled and pressed into his back. A lopeljack was taller than a human, reaching nine feet with ease, and hitting ten or even eleven if one included the ears. Her knees easily pressed into the back of his own as he was scooped into her hug and her other arm came round and over to hold him in place.

"What are-" He started, but Qik was ready.

"I can't sleep unless im hugging a pillow. Yours are too small, and I left mine at mine, so you'll have to do." She explained, her short muzzle working its way in and against the short, buzz cut of his head. She gently rubbed her face against him before settling.

"We're..." Casper began, but didn't know where the sentence was going. Noticing his hesitance, Qik settled matters.

"We're all snuggled, like two rounds in a mag. Don't think about it... just relax..." She whispered, gently squeezing his middle into her.

He laid there for a time, blinking, feeling her chest rise and fall as she laid there. He wanted to panic, to perhaps ask if she was sure? But... he was tired. His eyelids drooped and despite himself jerking awake once or twice, eventually he settled into a sleep that as so deep, even when Qik unintentionally turned over an hour later, dragging him with her; Casper never stirred even once.

Qik placed a finger under his nose to ensure he was still breathing in that moment, but relaxed when her fur ruffled under his breath and then she too, fell asleep.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #lopeljack #rabbit

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