#convex grunt

[astralnymphh]

⁶⁶⁶♡ perverted ♡⁶⁶⁶

𖤐 ellie needs a little extra care.. 🦢

⤹𓍢ִ໋listening to; elita harkov- perverted

cw/tags; nsfw, perverted!ellie, subtop!ellie, nipple play, grinding, vibrator(giving), overstimulation(giving), fingering (receiving), squirting, 'mama' petname

an; wanted ellie to call me mama ina dom way but also wanted to make her squirt, so, tada!!! way simpler writing this is just a drabble ellie's masterlist

♡

it was ritualistic. the way her hands feel voidly empty when she's not cupping your hips or molding to the convex of your waist constantly. it was sick. lacking the aftertaste of your juices, dying breathless to lap your folds again. it was twisted. visions of you naked, moaning, on the edge, plaguing her mind.

so when her eyes settled on your silhouette, attired in nothing but a shapeless tee, underwear, and socks, plunging your hands in the sinks foamy water, she can graphically visualize those exact pieces of clothing on the floor.

ellie's body behind you, pushing your otherwise stagnant rump into her needy groin, grunting 'fucks' and 'shits' in the raised skin on your neck. her flys' already unbuttoned and poking the cloaked valley of your cheeks repititively. the drenched sensation of her slit is titillating enough, smudging her panties with each chafe that only suffices minimal friction. her poor clits' not getting enough. bending her knees purely to rut her throbbing crotch into your ass.

''need' mama in bed..'' she purrs, indulging a latch to your neck, pink tongue suckling a bruise.

you play her game, but with little reaction. sutured lips and no words in reply to her plea, hands remnant on the dirty dishes.

her voice grunts again, ''m' so fuckin' horny.." as her fingers trail from your hips and grasp your loose tits above the fabric, gently squeezing.

"hmm, baby?"

''i need you...'' she whines further and deviates from your neck, looming over to get a glimpse of your face, "been thinkin' bout you all day." you feel her hand slither down between your bodies, biting her lips and putting pressure on her angry pulsing clit.

you had an entirely different vision in your mind.

this lead you to where you lie now, nude beside her, prying her leg open, the kickback of a vibrator rattling your knuckles and rolling the tip around her sensitive little red bud as she twitches and writhes in pleasure.

her own toughened hands flick her hard nipples, eyes engaging to the back of her head as she revels in the stimulation that's just too fucking good. her puffy eyes fall to ogle your tits, mesmerized in a trance. creamy nectar streamlining into a puddle beneath her. she's your needy little mess.

''c'mon mama~ go faster, nghhhhh.. fuck..'' ellie bellows out, drooling from her agape lips.

you up the speed on the toy, rubbing slow linear motions over and under the hood of her clit, all the right spots that have her nearly squirting all over your hand. pearly white serum gathers at the base of the toy, dripping off the edge.

"ooohhhf.. ffuck, oh god-" a groan hitches in her larynx, casting those dozy eyes over to watch the toys bulbous end coated in sticky slick part her folds and judder the skin. specks of her juices splatter the inside of her thighs, beautifully casting a wet halo around her swollen cunt.

"feel good els?"

"yeah, u're so fuckin' good- mama makes me feel s'good.."

after slapping and digging the vibrator into her clit a bit more, she's clenching her muscles up and splashing squirt everywhere. she's got her lips hung open, curling her head back til' the pillow hits her nose, whole body trembling. yet, she doesn't want you to stop. striving for another orgasm.

''keep tha- shhhshh-shit on, don't fuckin' stop..'' her stern voice mixes with quaking chords, choked up in the joy ride.

you don't. you listen. those husky groans of desperation boil over you. she's always so forward even in this position. you fucking love it. it only catches you by surprise when her calloused fingers drift over your belly and dive into your pussy, taking no time to prod your g spot with such fluidity.

"what'cha doin'- mmh- there, ellie?" you coo between throaty whimpers, lighting brushing her chin with your vacant digits.

"don't wanna leave ya- gh! ..neglected." bobbing hiccups jolt her body slightly, loving the way your pussy swallows her in like it knows her.

it's scary how she even barely handles the overstimulation, purely just turned on by the fact you're both fucking eachother, so.. so well.

and it satisfies her, so.. so much, beady green eyes watching you closely, rasping, ''mhm.. that's more like it."

her perverted little mind always wins.

♡

[tieronecrush]

the lakes

joel miller x reader

rating: M

word count: 1.9k

summary:

take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die / i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you / those windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry / i'm setting off, but not without my muse

warnings: nudity, skinny dipping, talk about grief, death, family tension, self-doubt, self-deprecation, idk man it’s just sad

a/n: my first song for the folklore anthology!! can’t wait to share others & read all the other great works from my pals <3

The sounds of birds chirping surround you in echoes across the valley, mountainous hills convexing in front of you and dotted with evergreens. Underneath you is sun-warmed sand, interspersed with smoothed rocks from rushing water shaping them over hundreds or thousands of years. The fresh, gentle waves of the lake lick against your bare feet, knees bent up as you sit at the shore, eyes trained ahead on the glassy surface reflecting the late summer sky above. Joel is sitting next to you in the same position, his hands joined together in a circle and forearms resting on his kneecaps.

It’d been a quiet hike to the spot you discovered while on patrol. Lately, Joel has been his own worst enemy — closed off to you, stewing in his thoughts about his strained relationship with Ellie and continuing to adjust to life in Jackson, a world so slow and still that he can’t seem to find a place he fits in after moving for so long. His inertia hasn’t caught up to his lifestyle change; he is constantly picking up patrol shifts, and volunteering to oversee new construction and renovations across the town, but even through his go go go, he can’t find a place to land.

This place was the perfect spot to take him; to abate the anxious energy that vibrates throughout him every day with the halcyon elements of nature. Animals that live their lives with no concept of time, a lesson in living in the present, trees that have been around for hundreds of years, solid and strong like the man himself, and the lake. The lake that provides for everything growing around it, that reflects beauty in sunrises and sunsets, that finds itself full no matter any barriers built in its feeding river, replenished by other means from rain to groundwater.

The silence between the two of you breaks for the first time in hours.

“You know what I first thought of you when I met you?” you question him, eyes trained forward on the view. Joel offers a soft grunt in response, hinting for you to continue.

“I thought: Wow, this guy is an asshole,” he scoffs with the hint of a smirk, shaking his head while your own grin plays at your lips, “But then, I got to know you. Forced proximity really tells you a lot about a person. And I very quickly learned how much you care. This world should have jaded you, should have broken you to the bone with what you have been through, but yet, you still find means to nurture. You protect, and you provide. You love so deeply, so incredibly much. Every day I wake up next to you, I thank the lucky stars that I have Joel Miller in my corner. By my side. Watching my back.”

“I know you are feeling something, thinking about something in that head of yours all the time. And I want you to know that I love you as deeply, that I care as much for you as you do for everyone in your life. You can share with me, whatever you feel like sharing.”

Joel is quiet, squinting in the sun as he tosses a round pebble from the sand between his legs into the shallow waters. The ripple appears and dissipates before he speaks.

“That sounded like a eulogy, darlin’.”

You scoff now, that same type of soft smirk that he held minutes before pulling the corners of your mouth up.

“Is that all you took from all of what I said?”

“No, ‘course not. Just, I don’t know, felt like I was listening to what you would say about me after I’m gone.” At that you turn towards him, hand wrapping around his nearest forearm and squeezing with even, steady pressure that says ‘We are not talking about that, I can’t talk about that.’

“I do wanna share with you, I just—I don’t know how. I’ve kept all this inside, locked down in my chest. Anger, temper, violence, even, as armor to keep me alive. Don’t ever think I’ve been very nurturing since, well, since…” His throat chokes up, head drops to stare at the ground. Another squeeze to his arm, this time to say ‘It’s okay. I know. You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.’

Something that he said sticks out in your head, a means to attempt to combat his walls going up again now that they have crumbled slightly. You stand, glancing around out of habit before you pull your shirt over your head, your jeans following with your undergarments in their wake. Joel looks up, expression puzzled as he watches your naked form wade into the water. You hiss as the still-icy water engulfs you from the shoulders down, treading and turning back to your man on the shore. A gentle smile covers your face, beckoning him in with one nod of your head.

He follows suit with stripping down, clothes mixing in a pile with yours as they do on the floor of your bedroom. His own pained expression from the cold lake makes you giggle quietly, a scolding stare aimed your way. He paddles over to you smoothly, the water hitting his chest where he can continue to touch with his feet at the bottom. Your arms slither around his neck, wet fingers carding through the hair at the back of his head. The leverage against him is used to tug you closer, his large palms settling at your waist under the surface while the two of you bathe in the fresh Adam’s ale of these cliffside pools. Two pairs of eyes communicate without words, the soundtrack of the birds and rustling trees occupying the dead air until you speak again, hushed despite the fact that you are the only humans for miles.

“You can take your armor off around me.”

Joel’s eyes flutter closed, a long sigh exhaled as his hands grip your curves tighter. When his burnt chestnut and amber irises are revealed again, he speaks in the same reserved volume that you had.

“I don’t belong there. In Jackson.”

Silence gently urges him to carry on.

“What I’ve done, to strangers, to myself, to Tess, to you, to Tommy, to Ellie…I don’t deserve any chance at life. With what I have taken from others, I don’t deserve to be given anything. Kindness, respect, care, love. From anyone.”

“I’ve been selfish this whole twenty years. I almost left Tommy alone. I dragged us up north to Boston. I got Tess into smuggling. I kept Ellie at a distance for so long because I couldn’t bear to feel that kind of responsibility, that familial tie. And then I chose for her, in that hospital. I couldn’t lose another kid.”

“It—it feels like I should be over the past, over what I have done now that I have a chance at a fresh start, or as close to a fresh start as I could possibly have here in Jackson. I have a shot to build a life with you, to work for Ellie’s forgiveness, to be an uncle to Maria and Tommy’s baby. But what has been chasing me — what has been over — it feels like it’s burrowed under my skin. And all I can feel when I start to forget is these—these heartstopping waves of hurt.”

“And I don’t know how to move on. I don’t know how to forget when my body, my mind, my soul won’t let me.”

Across his cheeks, salty tears have carved rivers, the dampness still in his eyes shining in the midday sunlight. The water sounds as if it’s rushing in your ear, your pulse racing as you attempt to process his confession. His head has bowed in a prayer position, awaiting your means to reconciliation or absolution.

Hands settled on his broad shoulders, another communicative squeeze, this one to say ‘I don’t know either. But I know how to try.’

“You let your people heal you,” Joel’s eyes meet yours, drops cascading from the damp bits of hair hanging over his forehead, attention completely and utterly on you, “Time can’t fix everything. The past can hold us in its grip even with all the time in the world. But people can help you forget. They can help to lessen the pain in your body until it’s merely a pinch. Their love can pull you up when you fall. Their care can nurture your soul to grow resilient again. Their reassurance can teach your mind to hear those sordid thoughts you have but pay them no attention.”

“I want to do this for you, Joel. I want to help you. To care for you. To love you, completely. Your people want to do it for you. And if you can learn from experience, you can do it for Ellie…” Your hands move from his shoulder, skating across his glistening skin and wrapping around the sides of his neck, thumbs resting against his jaw.

“You made choices you had to. Including for Ellie. She was — she is a child. Your kid, if not by blood. She may not understand now, but I know she will find a means to forgive you, or at least understand you.”

“Maybe when she’s older, if she has a kid of her own, she’ll understand.”

Joel’s mouth quips to one side with a faint smile, tears drying on his cheeks as he thinks of the image.

“Reckon we’d be pretty fun, well, sorta grandparents.”

“I think so, too,” you speak with a grin stretched and thumbs brushing back and forth at his jaw, “I can’t wait to grow old with you. To sit on the porch and watch you still yell across the street to your brother for full conversations instead of the two getting off of your asses —”

“Watch it, darlin’,” he warns playfully.

“Hey, it’s true. I listen to it nearly every day. Now, back to what I was imagining, cowboy.”

He nods for you to continue, a full-blown smile on his face.

“We’ll have Ellie over weekly dinners, and whoever else makes up her family. You’ll play me guitar and sing whenever I ask ‘cause you love me so much. I’ll help to heal you, and we will be happy together. We will take our second chance. And you will enjoy your time with your family. And me, hopefully.”

“Definitely with you. My beautiful girl,” his own hand leaves the water, wetting your hair as he brushes it out of your face with tender eyes, “You’re like—like a red rose that’s grown out of my ice-frozen ground. I am so lucky to have you. That you chose me, and continue to choose me every damn day. My grief sometimes feels insurmountable; like I am going to be stuck here forever with no way out of that feeling. But if I get stuck here, with you in my arms and all my people around me, I’d be fine if I simply grow old and wither away back into the earth.”

“I love you, darlin’. So much it might just end in tragedy, that my heart might just explode from lookin’ at you one day. But I do love you.”

A gentle kiss is shared between the two of you, the bitter water combined with your torrid love stirring up a tornado of tingling nerves.

You pull away, only enough to get the words out that you have told him, Joel, your man, every day and will continue to tell him every day you have him, “I love you.”

taglist: @wannab-urs @atinylittlepain @bearsbeetsbeskar @serenaxpedro @casa-boiardi @rav3n-pascal22 @dinsdjrn @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @johnwatsn @amanitacowboy @leeeesahhh @isitmelookin4u @javiscigarette @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sugarspiceanthrax @orphanbird95 @space-cowboy-like-me @tuquoquebrute @rsquared31 @morning-star-joy @canseethebrushstrokes @atremises @sstarboy777 @undrthelights @butiknewyoudlinger @dayrdreaming @disassociation-daydreams @joelsversion @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mydailyhyperfixations @diamndx @mingiast @kdogreads @blxsphemy7 @marchai @littlevenicebitch69 @ghostofbrock @iwrotethissky @ladynightingale @jksprincess10 @swiftispunk @pr0ximamidnight @beskarandblasters

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite2024 13. Butte

Featuring: Weird West AU - Desertwalkers by @scrollsfromarebornrealm Characters: Zellita (Y'zel Tia), Fordola Lupis, The Professor(Claudien) Expansion: Endwalker (Characters and Concepts) Rating: T Summary: Fordola briefly talks about her past. Notes:

Fordola looked over her shoulder as Zellita steered his horse around some rocks, The Professor following along. The sun bore down on her, making her almost regret not joining the boys in the waters of the quarry. Zellita catching up to her, she huffed lightly. “If we go east of  here we might find some respite from the sun east of Quetzal's Wing,” she said, gesturing to the convex butte a few hundred yalms away.

Zellita nodded lightly, letting Fordola guide him to the lee of the towering mountain. Once there, they dismounted from their horses and stretched their legs, enjoying the reprieve from the heat. “Was there a reason you decided to accompany me instead of joining your friends today? Rrahnald seemed to be in high spirits about his planned outing,” Y’zel asked as he fed his horse an apple.

“They’re off to a watering hole and my idea of a good time doesn’t involve being surrounded by friends when they have dumb-sticks out,” she said curtly. “And Rrahn said someone would come help out Claudien look for whatever he’s after out here today. I didn’t have anything better to do. Speaking of which, why didn’t he come out with us?”

Zellita let out a small laugh at Fordola’s response before looking at The Professor, the golden-haired wolf beating his tail slowly on the ground as he looked out into the desert. “Claudien is a bit sensitive to the heat lately. Perhaps it was the sudden humidity from the storms,” Zellita lied.

“Well it doesn’t do a lot of good for us to be searchin’ for this auracite or whatever it is without him here to help us look. How sure is he that there’s any even out here?” Fordola asked.

“The Professor has a nose for it. He’ll sniff it out if we get close,” Zellita assured her while reaching down to pet the wolf, getting a grunt out of him. “It is rather beautiful out here.”

“My father thought so…,” Fordola said, furrowing her brow as she watched a cactus in the distance, making sure it didn’t move. 

“Thought? Is he no longer with us?” Y’zel asked.

Fordola shook her head. “No. I live with Arenvald’s folks. When we caught the sights of our eastern interlopers, he was too trusting and sought a means to welcome them to a reluctant Stonewood. When they found no ground with the townsfolk, the people he was trying to help, turned on him and put a bullet in him, leaving him for dead,” she said briskly. 

Zellita frowned. “I had no idea. The Garleans shadow seems evermore a shroud of death,” he said, getting a small lick on the back of his hand by The Professor. He gave the wolf a weak smile then pet his ears while Fordola avoided his gaze.

“It’s in the past,” Fordola said dismissively. “Come. We’ve been here long enough. Let’s get back to rock hunting.”

[frozenjokes]

Signing Back In, Apparently - 10

Prev/Next

I am so sick. but yay convex chapter. hope they kiss and get to be evil together

“Cleo! You didn’t tell me- can you also-?” Scar rushed forward and grabbed at their shoulder, but was promptly shaken off.

“I thought your reaction would be funny. I was right,” Cleo shrugged, shooing Scar further away, “Back on the wheel, boat boy, pay attention before we crash.” Scar yelped as he was shoved into the wheel. But there was absolutely no way he would be able to pay attention now.

“You can hear us?” Impulse pointed vaguely at himself before squinting to get a better look at the island, followed quickly by the rest of the ghosts. Well except maybe Mumbo, who declared he did not want to be here anymore before walking down the side of the boat and disappearing underwater. Grian followed him with an alarmed squawk. Always so dramatic, those two.

“Yup! This island is great , you guys are going to love it. It’s like ghost paradise. Probably? I mean, I think 90% of the ghosts there are certifiably insane, but they’re loving it. What are your names?”

“Oh, wow, it’s been awhile since I’ve had to introduce myself hasn’t it.. Well, I’m Impulse. The tall one who just went overboard is Mumbo, and the guy who followed him is Grian.”

“Pearl,” Pearl grunted, when Cleo looked her way, “Where are we going anyway? Clearly this involves us. What are you planning?” Her tone was accusatory as she stepped forward to tower over them. Cleo didn’t seem bothered at all.

“This is a gift! A ghost vacation, as Scar so aptly put it. Sausage is forcing him to be nicer to you guys, isn’t that sweet?”

“Alright, that’s enough, Cleo, you can navigate this better than me,” Scar left his station at the wheel, forcing Cleo to take his place and steer. He crouched near the edge, yelling into the water, “Mumbo! Grian! Get up here, will you?” Scar felt a chill over his back, turning to see Pearl standing over him. He scowled. “Did you just try and push me?”

“Wanted to know if I could touch you,” she deadpanned, looking extremely disappointed. Scar looked back just in time for Grian’s head to surface, flashing him what was probably meant to be a middle finger. Due to his disfigured water-hands, it was hard to tell. Mumbo surfaced next, looking quite resigned as he walked back onto the boat.

“Ay, why so down? I thought we had fun?” Scar mumbled, offering a small smile.

Mumbo closed his eyes. “Don’t.”

“Fine, fine,” Scar pulled back before Grian could lunge for him, settling at the sail, “Alright everyone, listen up. You’re here for some pirate mandated fun, and I’m here to be miserable and possibly die, which means all of you should be on board. Once we dock, you can go crazy, just stay the hell away from me. Enjoy it, because we aren’t coming back. Got it?” His answer was a resounding silence. “Perfect.”

“Inspiring,” Cleo rolled her eyes. “Well we’re here! Get ready to tie up the boat, Scar, the dock is pretty shit. Try not to fall through it.”

“Got it!” Scar grabbed the rope at the front end of the boat, leaping off as Cleo eased in next to the pier. It was weird hearing the ghosts talk amongst themselves. He tried to ignore it, a task made much easier when an anvil plummeted from the sky(?) and smashed directly next to him through the center of the dock. Battered by splinters, Scar fell back into the murky water with a scream. The water felt thick and warm, and he gasped as he surfaced.

“Cleo! What-?” Scar blinked in alarm as his hats began to float every which way, hurriedly wading around to gather them. Apparently, the ghosts were as shocked as he was given their silence, but Cleo didn’t seem fazed.

“Hey, Cub! Missed again! How long were you waiting here this time? Miss me that much?” Cleo stepped carefully onto the remaining edges of the dock, balancing until she could hop to shore.

“You brought someone new,” Cub, presumably, walked up to the water’s edge wearing a passive frown. He was short, wearing a lab coat that looked ever so slightly too big, but the detail that grabbed Scar’s attention the most was that he was a ghost. Maybe he.. should have assumed that one. He didn’t like the way Cub was looking at him.

“Yeah, and like four other ghosts, care to introduce yourself?”

“Nope.” Cub stepped into the water, reaching for the final hat. Scar snatched it away, but Cub’s expression didn’t change. Scar glared, but had a feeling this was a staring contest he wouldn’t win.

“Alright, Scar, have fun! Try not to touch anything!” Cleo waved.

“Hey- wait- how did you..” Pearl began, but Cleo gestured for her to join them on land.

“Someone else can show you, long story short, ghosts have a lot of power here. Let’s let Cub be, I’ve just given him a great gift.”

“You- you’re not leaving me are you?” Scar yelped, moving with great urgency from the water. The mud at his heels begged him to stay.

“Just let it happen, Scar,” Cleo waved.

“I am NOT-“

But Cleo put their fingers in their ears, yelling nonsense as she walked away into the fog. Pearl gave her an indecisive look, but quickly followed, dragging Impulse with her by the hand. Mumbo looked like he might stay, but Grian made sure to pull him away as well. Scar couldn’t escape the water fast enough to follow them, like the mud was working actively to pull him in the opposite direction. When he managed to scramble out and to the tree line, there was no sign of anyone through the fog.

“You won’t find them. The fog is confusing when it wants to be. And I want it to be. I can show you some pretty cool stuff though if you follow me.” Somehow, Scar wasn’t surprised to find Cub directly behind him.

“I am not following you. I have no interest in becoming part of your human taxidermy collection or whatever it is you do.”

“Taxidermy? No no, you’ve got me all wrong. I want a live specimen. And I certainly don’t have a collection, geez.”

“Live! You just tried to crush me with an anvil!”

“Well, maybe undead. The dead are easier to work with. In theory. I haven’t had the chance to test it on anyone, since no one ever visits except Cleo. Well, there was this one time I got to play around a bit, but Joe was watching, so I could only get a couple stitches in. I hope she gets horrifically injured again soon.”

“Stitches- are you talking about her face?”

“Yeah!” Cub’s intonation raised for the first time, and Scar couldn’t help but chuckle. “Now, let’s get out of here before Cleo tells Zedaph about you, he’ll have like a billion questions, and then the others will want to meet you and then they’ll get attached , it’s a whole thing.”

“Hm. Well I don’t like that.”

“Perfect, come on then,” Cub began walking into the fog, which Scar thought was rather arrogant, but he figured it might be better to keep an eye on him rather than just waiting to die. After all, Cub couldn’t touch him directly at least, so as long as he followed Cleo’s advice and didn’t touch anything..

Scar hurried after him, stumbling a bit over roots and mud patches that Cub could float over, “So visitors are pretty rare, huh? Human visitors?”

“Uh huh. Most sailors that try end up shipwrecked on the rocks,” Cub chuckled to himself, examining his own nails. Scar noticed with slight unease they were sharp. “We’ve had a couple ghosts join us that way. Though, it’s been awhile.”

“If you want bodies, why didn’t you just take them from the ships?”

“Oh, those have long rotted. The museum is a new venture, and I want someone fresh. Or, just alive I suppose. I’m not picky.”

“You know, Cub, I think you might have a marketing issue on your hands! No, no, this island is in crisis territory! Luckily, I’m an expert.”

“Oh?”

“You want bodies, right? Alive, dead, whatever, you want them. Well, I can make that happen for you, guaranteed. What’s the catch Scar? Nothing much, really, especially in exchange for my services. See, I’ve got a ghost problem. You saw them! When they’re happy, I’m happy, when they’re sad, my back hurts, so, as you can tell, not ideal.”

“I don’t have the power to cut ties between a ghost and the soul they’re bound to.”

“Ah, well then, I have a feeling I’ll be visiting again, and you won’t want me dead, no, no.”

“I don’t? Are you sure?” Cub turned, revealing a sly smile. Scar returned it with his own grin. This was his element.

“You need people now, and later, you’ll need other items that those ghostly hands of yours won’t have access to. There’s all sorts of things I could ferry back and forth for you. If I’m stuck here in an exhibit, especially when you could just as easily have someone else in a snap, I won’t be of any use. Well, besides looking pretty. But I guarantee I’ll draw more eyes with my other, wide range of skills.”

“I feel like a lot of this hinges on trust.”

“Well, sure, doesn’t everything? But I understand, I get it, why take a chance when the body you’re looking for is right in front of you?” Scar removed the hat at the top of the stack, presenting it to Cub in a dramatic bow, “These mean a lot to me. The hats of my old crew, my family, struck down in a storm on the wild sea. Consider it insurance. I will be back.” Scar recognized the twinkle of interest in Cub’s eyes as he tilted his head, reaching forward to touch it. His hand, maybe not surprisingly, fell through it.

“Hm. I’ll need my gloves for that.”

“So it’s a deal? You get my services, and I keep my life?”

“Not yet. I want to know how you plan on getting humans here.”

“Aha! Of course, of course. Now, as I was saying, this island has a marketing problem! The Haunted Island is possibly one of the worst names I’ve ever heard! I’m looking for something more.. exciting. And boy, you should know that I know my way around a rumor.”

“Alright, shoot. What should we call it then?”

“Hm, let me think. How about.. GHOSTS: A Trial in Terror. An Experience That Is Sure To Blow Your Fucking Socks Off! For short, Ghost Fucking Island. That’s what they’d put on maps at least, ideally.

“Haha, that’s awesome, man,” Cub stopped, hands in his pockets.

“You could call me an expert,” Scar puffed out his chest, placing his hat back in its place at the top of the stack. He didn’t see the wall before slamming into it, falling back with a yelp.

Cub snickered, “I never get tired of seeing humans do that. Bring a lantern or something next time, will you? Can’t appreciate the architecture if you can’t see a foot in front of your face.”

“Well I-“ Scar hurried to his feet, but stopped short as he followed Cub’s glowing form inside. Behind the massive front door was a dimly lit, but grand opening room, filled to the brim with all sorts of odd knickknacks. Scar might’ve stopped to read some of the labels, if he wasn’t so awed by how beautiful it was.

Cub smiled beside him, “Like what you see?”

“How did you do this? It-“ Scar broke off, leaning over to touch a table and then a picture frame, “It’s solid. How could you even move this stuff? You decorated, I assume?”

“There’s interactive exhibits if you insist on touching, otherwise, hands off,” Cub walked forward, far too fast for Scar to look at every little thing that caught his eye, but he wasn’t keen on falling behind, “This island works differently. The things that grow here, the rocks and minerals, and even the animals that are born here; all are solid to both ghosts and humans. That’s how we can build all this stuff. Only catch; some world ending disaster strikes the island every couple years or so and changes its form. So we start over. Build anew. Humans don’t like that, there’s a reason no one lives here. Besides the ghosts, of course.”

“Oh, wow. Mumbo and Impulse are going to have a field day with this. Grian too, maybe. Him and Pearl might just try and hit me in the head with a rock though,” Scar paused, taking another moment to look around, “This is amazing. Gosh, I’ll have to come back and see the outside! Light it up for me, will you?”

Cub chuckled, looking quite pleased, “Thank you. I’ve been collecting artifacts from our current.. season you could call it. I believe we’ll be nearing the end soon.”

“And you’ll lose everything?”

“Right. Don’t be too sad on my behalf, it’s always fun to start over. Come on, follow me. You can see the rest another time.” Cub bent down over a hatch near one of the walls, opening it to reveal a ladder leading down. How lovely and not sinister at all. Scar frowned, but he was in too deep now.

He wasn’t overly shocked to see a sterile looking lab space at the bottom, complete with fluorescent lights, dark countertops, and rolling silver tables. Just by being here, he was sure his chances of getting murdered and/or turned into some gruesome exhibit just increased tenfold. What a way to go.

“I thought you were into what I was selling,” Scar mumbled, examining the room for some sort of weapon. He had his sword, but that would pass straight through; not that any other weapon could do much to a ghost, but maybe Scar could at least slow him down.

“Oh, I still am,” Cub mused, sliding on an odd looking pair of gloves. Scar tensed as the ghost approached him, but Cub only plucked a hat off the top of his head. “Relax. Scar, right? I’m ready to make this deal, but I want one more thing from you. Sit.” Cub tapped one of the sterling tables. Scar didn’t move.

“I’d rather not.”

“Scar, if we’re going to be business partners, I’m going to need a little more. How much is your life worth to you, hm? I could live without, given what you’ve offered so far.”

“What else do you want, then?” Scar’s tone was flat. Wary.

Cub gestured vaguely with his head, turning to one of his shelves and gently pulling down a jar. Inside was.. Scar wasn’t really sure. It looked a lot like a ghost, but small and sharp, and quite angry. “This is a vex. They inhabit this island, although rare, and I’m quite fond of them. I’ve modified my body to fit some of their features, as you may have seen.” Cub tapped his clawed fingers on the glass, smiling with teeth for the first time. Sharp. Just lovely. “And this, with help of course,” Cub turned his back to Scar and unfurled small, spiked wings, seemingly from inside his lab coat. “Stitched to my back, right from the source.” Cub tapped the glass again, turning back around.

“You want to do that to me?” Scar breathed, feeling slightly ill.

“Not all of it today, unless you volunteer. I’ll be happy to work on you during future visits. I want to know what it will do to you, to combine the living and the dead. It might not work at all.” Cub set down the jar, sliding open the top and violently snatching the vex inside before tearing off its wings. His neutral expression didn’t fade.

“Is- is this going to kill me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That doesn’t fill me with very much confidence!”

“Well, you don’t have a choice. Besides, you’re the perfect subject! A bonafide conman with a silver tongue who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. I don’t see any reason why the vex wouldn’t take to you.” Cub held up the wings, dripping with.. something. The creature they came from writhed at the bottom of the jar.

“I don’t suppose this procedure includes any anesthesia or pain killers?”

Cub actually laughed, a reaction that was answer enough, “No. But if you promise to sit still, I won’t strap you down. Good enough?”

“Guess so.”

“Great. Now sit down and take off your shirt.”

[novankenn]

Altered Destiny

= One =

Despite Pyrrha's tutelage, Jaune still felt weak. He was lasting longer and longer against Cardin in his almost daily spars, yet still he had yet to achieve any type of victory. His peers were just so much further along than him, and it weighed heavily on his mind.

So in an effort to test himself, he gathered his armour and weapons, intent to traverse the Emerald Forest. To make the journey from the cliffs to the ruins and back again solo. It was a spur of the moment decision, fuelled by his most recent rejection from Weiss, piled on to his most reason failure in combat class.

Had he taken a second to consider his choice, he would have recognized the inherent danger of his decision. Surrounded by an air of depression, self-deprecation and frustration, he would be a glowing, irresistible beacon to any nearby grimm. Yet he wasn't thinking in such a clear way. He was entirely focused on going out and testing his limits. Set on proving his worth.

Jaune ignored the looks and whispers of those he passed as he traversed the halls and then the expansive ground that made up the Beacon campus. His destination, the initiation launching pads. He recalled that the bridge across the chasm had been destroyed, and with no way known to him to cross that natural barrier, he opted to also test his landing strategy.

Why the pads were still active, Jaune didn't know, nor did he care. After inspecting a few and figuring out the mechanism, he deduced how to manually set them off. A substantial application of downward force near the back end would cause the latch style restraint to pop, activating the massive spring, and flinging whatever was on the pad skyward.

Jaune: Alright (taking a deep breath) it's now or never.

Stepping on to the launching surface, he positioned himself basically at the edge furthest from the spring. Then he jumped, driving all his of his mass in the edge of the pad. He never heard the click of the launching mechanism activating. He just felt the sudden acceleration as the pad threw him somersaulting into the air.

Jaune's mind raced as he tried to figure out a way to stop the wild tumble he found himself in. This hadn't been part of his plan. He had expected to be just thrown up and forward. Activating his shield, he hoped the added wind resistance of the large, slightly convex sheet of metal would allow him to gain some control.

By some fluke of physics and logic it worked, and soon Jaune found himself hurtling towards the tree tops in a more stable trajectory. Gritting his teeth, he struggled slightly to bring his shield into proper position before hitting the first tree. The snapping off of the arm thick trunk sounded like a gunshot, causing the few natural birds in the forest to take wing.

The impact shook Jaune's bones, but there was no chance to recover or brace further, as less than a second later he slammed shield first into a second trunk. It was the thickness of his thigh, and amazingly it also snapped off, slowing his descent even further to the point that when he impacted the next trunk torso thick trunk he actually bounced off, and ended up slamming into a similarly sized tree.

His landing strategy was reduced to a shambled as he found himself free-falling through larger and larger branches. Grunting with each impact, she saw the rapidly approaching forest floor, and tried to focus his aura. Luck was not with him as he caught one final branch that sent him tumbling.

The breath in his lungs was expelled in explosive fashion, and the sudden searing pain in his side, told him that things had gone from bad to worse. He lay there in a heap, among forest debris, trying to catch his breath. With a hissing intake of air, he used Crocea Mors much like a cane to assist in regaining his feet.

His chest burned, and his side was very tender. Perfect indications that he had probably broken at least one rib, probably more, and the only reason he was aware of this was due to the tutelage of his mother and third-eldest sister. Both who as practising medics decided everyone in the family should know the signs of the most common injuries people suffer in severe accidents.

Breathing hurt, and it hurt a lot. Jaune knew he was in no shape to continue his little expedition, and elected to make his way back to the cliffs. It would be easier for the medical staff to find him there. Pulling out his scroll, he tapped his thumb against the SOS icon, sending the alert to all the staff of the academy.

{Table of Contents}

(AN: So another male!jaune to female!jaune story. I've no idea why I like writing stories like these here on Tumblr, but I'm setting up another one. I've just recently started watching "Kashimashi: Girl meets Girl" and I'm finding it cute and funny. So I am definitely going to try and concentrate on keeping this one in the realm of attempted comedy.)

[doubtingthomasin]

kinktober: hellcheer edition

prompt 24: objectification - eddie the human sex doll

word count: 1.4k

MINORS DNI

@viharker

-------

It's not the first Corroded Coffin show Chrissy's ever been to, but it's the first one that puts her on a knife's edge by the time they're only halfway through.

Maybe it's because Eddie's a bastard and knows she's in the audience, but he takes his shirt off after the first few songs, wiping the sweat from his forehead before throwing it down on the stage. She's subjected to the sight of him for the rest of the set: the way his arms flex as he moves the guitar around the front of his tight black jeans, how the sweat drips down his chest and over his barely convex stomach, his hair sticking to his forehead and shoulders as he dominates the stage.

She knows she should feel bad, but she stopped listening to what specific songs they're playing once the shirt came off. Squeezing her thighs together is a lost cause, and the raw need gets so dire that her bottom lip starts to tremble. The town still doesn't know about them beyond a few sordid rumors, but the bar-goers sure as hell would if any of them were to catch even just a glimpse of Chrissy's face as he plays.

She's practically drooling as he falls to his knees on the last chord of the last song, going out with a bang as the graciously responsive crowd whoops and claps. There's more people than usual since it's summer and he stands to wave and bow, catching her eye with a wink before he disappears backstage.

He always does that and it always gets her hot, but this time she feels she might actually combust.

Almost knocking the stool over, she rushes toward the access hallway leading to the green room, which is basically a large converted closet. She throws a hurried hello to the guys as she passes, closing the door once she's through and sliding the lock in place.

"Thought so." She whips around to see his smug smile, and he briefly bites his lip before she’s on him. She pushes him onto a small table, straddling his thighs as she laps into his mouth, and he’s already pulling her shirt over her head before he breathlessly asks. “Right here, right now?”

“Right here, right now,” she moans before kissing him again, running her hands all over his back and chest. He’s as wet as she is, just in a different way, and that knowledge has her rutting against him. Their lips separate, panting before they’ve begun. “You looked so damn hot out there. Please, please.”

Her pleas turn out to be unnecessary, his hand already diving into her panties to stroke her, but she shakes her head with a little sound. “’M getting some mixed signals here, baby.”

“Don’t need it.” She firmly kisses him again, her hand briefly cupping him before undoing his pants. She lifts her skirt while she pulls his cock from his underwear, pumping him completely to hardness as he gasps and groans her name. “Please?”

“Oh, there’s no way I’m saying no to this,” he struggles, pulling her hips in roughly and pushing her panties to the side. She smoothly sinks down onto him, letting out a sigh so loud that he covers her mouth, pressing her mouth into the crook of his neck as she starts to ride him in earnest.

She grunts as he rolls her hips into his, grabbing her ass and burying his teeth in her neck to hear her muffled cries. She comes so fucking hard, and he climaxes so quick that he gets a little dizzy, but not before she climbs off him.

He tries to hold it back, but some of him spurts onto her cheek before she can get him in her mouth, milking him down her throat while he grits his teeth against a shout. She grinds her palm into his balls just to make sure she's swallowing every last drop before sliding off him with a lewd little pop, catching the bit of him on her cheek with her thumb.

“Now,” he breathes, both of them struggling for air as she stands and he recovers, “let’s go home and do all that again.” She chuckles, knowing full well that they will.

By morning the feeling’s fully returned, gripping Chrissy’s stomach tight, despite the fact that she felt well ridden from the three times total that he fucked her the night before. She holds his shirt as she pleasures herself, breathing in the scent of him while her fingers rub her cunt vigorously. 

It doesn’t last long before she decides it isn’t enough. He’s watching TV when she walks into the living room, hair disheveled and a feral look in her eye.

“You okay, princess?” he asks idly before he’s fully noticed the state of her, but his eyebrows raise once he does. By that point, she’s kneeling on the couch next to his thigh, pulling his boxers down to free his length.

“Please, Eddie.”

“Baby woke up hungry, huh?” he asks sympathetically, and she nods with a little uh-huh as his hand rubs the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair. “Take what you want, sweetness.”

She takes him down her throat almost immediately, working only to make him hard so she can ride him again. Once he is, she straddles his lap with her bare hips, guiding his cock into her already quaking cunt. She cries out when she fully envelops him, and he slides his shaking hands up her body to fondle her breasts as she slams down on him over and over.

“Needy little vixen,” he praises as he groans. “Can’t get enough, can you?”

“I’m sorry,” she gasps, her words shaky from her movements.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, fingers trailing down and digging into her soft waist. “Lay it on me, gorgeous, I want it all.”

She takes her sleep shirt off, grabbing him by the hair and pressing him to her breast, which he obediently sucks into his mouth. She rides him harder, wailing at the ceiling until her body snaps and he tumbles over the edge with her.

But even full of his come as they lean against each other, chests heaving for oxygen, the feeling still hasn’t faded. He can feel her perfect pussy flutter around his softened length, rubs her back and murmurs in her ear as she whimpers into his shoulder. “Name it, sweetheart. Let’s get you taken care of.”

She pulls back with a nod, her eyelids heavy. “Lay down.” He does so quickly, almost comically, throwing his legs up onto the couch as she moves. She smiles with her bottom lip drawn into her mouth, but the pressure starts to build again as she settles over his face. She’s about to verbally make sure this isn’t too much, that she isn’t being too much, when he pulls her down onto his lips.

“Oh, fuck yes!” Her hands slide into his hair to get a grip, her clit hitting his nose every few passes as she rides him. He yanks back only to stick his tongue inside her, pressing her flush to him, his stubble rubbing against her sensitive skin. “Oh, God, Eddie, you looked so goddamn good last night, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Her babbling makes him hum against her center, and he swirls his tongue inside her to throw off her rhythm. Her whole body stutters until she pulls his face away, and he pants through what he says next. “Would’ve–fucked you right on–that stage if you’d–asked me to.”

She whines before guiding him to her clit, his fingernails grazing gently across the backs of her thighs as he sucks the pulsing nub. Her eyes roll back as she climaxes, her thighs gripping his head as she drips into his equally hungry mouth. He kisses and licks her pussy lips until he’s full of her, swallowing down the salty sweetness with abandon. He doesn’t lean back until she lets go, a pussy-drunk smile spreading across his face after just one hit of her.

Chrissy slinks down to his body to curl up on his chest, finally, finally satiated. She looks up at him as she plays with a lock of his hair. “Would you have, really?”

“Hell yeah,” he replies, his voice deep as he caresses her arm. “Gotta give ‘em something to talk about in this town.” She giggles as he kisses the crown of her head, secretly hoping that whatever had possessed her might last the whole day.

[bluiex]

(As a side note to any and all who read this, I'm posting this Pokemon AU for all to use. My ideas and story might be different from how you take the story. And I'd love to see it. Use anything you like friends :D)

-

The ConVex

This evil team has only recently popped up, or at least has only been as active. Some say the ConVex have been here since the region started to be pushed into the modern age.

Leaders of the ConVex are Cub and Scar, but most average grunts and citizens don't know this.

The ConVex was started by Cub about a year after he founded the ConCorp in the region.

From there it was give the task to the two generals (Joe Hills and False), and Scar, to find suitable people to join the ConVex.

Their Goals

The ConVex seem to have two goals, whether this is actually the belief of Cub and Scar or just something the Grunts made up is unsure.

Cub's goals is to control the Region, it's gyms, it's pokemon, and everything that goes in and out in terms of research and knowledge. He seeks to train up and have the loyalty of the people who come or live in the region. Mainly to further his own research into how humanity was created.

All and all his goals aren't very sinister, but his methods are questionable, Cub is distrustful of most people. Having grown up on news articles like Team Rocket and the insanity that was Team Magma/Aqua.

The Grunts seem to have this belief though of the Vex, which they claim aren't pokemon, but Spirits of mischief that work through them to help their boss.

Because of this the Grunts call themselves Vexes. And some people mistake them for a cult.

Again it's unsure if the leaders of the ConVex hold this belief or not. Or if it's just something the Grunts made up as a sense of community/to entice new people.

The Generals

There are two Generals Joe Hills and False. And both strike fear into people hearts.

Joe tended to be the calmer and laid back of the two, having a thick countryside accent. He grew up in Sinnoh and moved to this region to start his own farm, for which Cub gave him the start-up money. Joe would consider Cub and Scar two of his best friends.

False has a strange history, being she is also from Sinnoh, and used to be apart of Team Plasma as a grunt. She never did align with their goals through. And after watching Cyrus take his 'new world' for himself and the sheer power of Dialga and Palkia, False was quick to leave Sinnoh. She met Cub after he promised her and escape and clean her criminal record, and she took it.

Their Teams are opposites of each other, and can be a challenge to beat.

You are Challenged by ConVex General Joe Hills.

Blissey (Normal) Milktank (Normal) Tauors -Combat Breed- (Fighting) Steelix (Steel and Ground) Slaking (Normal)

You are Challenged by ConVex General False

Salamance (Dragon and Flying) Lucario (Fighting and Steel) Nidoqueen (Posion and Ground) Electivire (Electric) Tauors -Blaze Breed- (Fighting and Fire)

-

Cub himself has 2 teams as does Scar. The team you see him with in public tends to be much cuter.

You are Challenged by ConCorp CEO Cub

Teddiursa (Normal) Frostmoth (Bug and Ice) Clefairy (Fairy) Pumpkaboo (Ghost and Grass)

You Are Challenged by Restaurant Owner Scar Goodtimes

Liepard (Dark) Goodra (Dragon) Jigglypuff (Normal and Fairy) Eevee (Normal)

MMM YES BUILD OFF ONE ANOTHER PLEASE

God Jade idea here is amazing and just KAKSJCICUWHEBFJD I need to sit down (stopplayingvideogames) and write out my thoughts

[spikyhairedsilhouette]

Cerunnos.

Click. His cupped hands cradle the unsheathed flame, as she teases the tip of the dampened cigarette. Spectral gaze fixed upon her seductive sway, he allows himself to be hypnotized, eyes boring into the tiny blaze until tears begin to blur his line of sight. His cheeks hollow, his breath hitching as he inhales the embers the way one reels in a fish – slow and controlled, leaning forward to give way before lurching back to haul in the catch. Head reclining, he can just see the stars sprinkled in between the bare branches of the overgrown trees like spots dappling the hide of a fawn. He exhales a few distorted rings of smoke, each climbing higher than the former, and watches them vanish in succession, a queue of souls marching for the heavens.

Sticks and stones crumble and skid as he trods barefoot through the wood, the soft earth cushioning his every step, as though carving a pathway just for him. He takes another drag from his cigarette, this time holding the smoke in his mouth until he rounds a bend and briefly beholds the mecca of his pilgrimage, a gargantuan harvest moon. Smoke streaming from his nostrils, he closes his eyes and again drops his head back, bathing his face in the gleam. He continues to stride blindly forward, following the cool current of his lunar lover, her pallid rays skimming his skin like the silk of his robe as it gently falls to the forest floor. 

He stumbles, his legs beginning to feel weak, knees faltering as he steps over a large root breaching the soil. His blood seems to thicken with every step, menthol chilling in his veins as his head begins to pound, skull splintering into thirds while his jaw protrudes as if broken, the bridge of his nose collapsing as though crushed. He clenches his fist around the still-lit cigarette, wincing as it singes his palm before dropping onto a smooth, flat rock, extinguished by a cloven hoof with a soft clap. 

Standing erect under the blistering bite of his beloved mother, he wails in both grief and ecstasy, horns bursting through the crown of his head like the limbs of the surrounding trees. The harsh snap of mutating sinew echoes across the thicket as his knees bend backward like the hind hocks of an elk, a thick shroud of hair covering his legs and stretching up to his navel. He grunts in either pain or pleasure, unable to determine which, the sound bellowing deep and bestial like a demon beckoned. A demon... or a god. 

He huffs rhythmically, his doe-like eyes blinking open, pupils dilating to reflect the night sky, a pair of convex, occult mirrors. As his breath quickens, his hands join to perform a series of complex mudras, his inhales levitating his satyric shape off the ground and his exhales suspending him in the air. With a final breath in, he finds himself facing his goddess, a transmuted black silhouette against a milky, dimpled canvas. He holds the thinning air in his lungs until his heart thumps wildly, beating against his chest as though trapped within a burning building. Tension rises in his throat, looking for a way to escape, the pressure culminating under the base of his freshly formed antlers, threatening to uproot them already. Trembling violently, he swallows the urge to exhale, emitting a small pop as he shatters into a cloud of dust, celestial motes drifting across the sky. 

[painsandconfusion]

Setting

Waking Dreamer - Part Eleven

(tw: gore, broken bones, painful healing, bad caretaker, impalement, blood, manhandling, imprisonment, broken finger, loss of bodily autonomy)

[Previous | Masterlist | Next]

Zak hit the ground with a wheezing grunt. He heaved, trying to rest the twisting wrongness inside him. So strange to know everything was still wrong and gushing inside even after James had ripped away the shard of bone and sealed up the holes.

Can’t have blood going to waste, can we? No no, it has to stay on the inside when the show is over. Inside is where the blood is supposed to be. Even when it’s in the wrong ‘where’ where it’s supposed to be, James could still reroute it back into the blood vessels. Force his body to contract and constrict and shove it back into place as long as it was at least gathered inside him.

Neat trick.

They also couldn’t have someone following a dripping blood trail out the house and into the woods. No no no, that wouldn’t do. They couldn’t find Zak on his stone floor in his little room underground, sealed off by a rotting wooden door.

No no no no no. They couldn’t handle him.

Zak was far too clever and sexy and generally amazing for the average eyeball. Nah. They couldn’t handle it.

He coughed as James rolled him over, pressing a hand to Zak’s middle. A wheezing sound pressed from his stomach and rolled up his throat, splitting his lips as the agony twisted and changed in his middle, perforated organs re-knitting and schlooping back into place. Squirming inside him. Wrong but so much more right than before.

Zak didn’t bother begging. Didn’t bother asking James to be gentle.

He wouldn’t be. He liked the pain too much.

And it's not like he was going to die or something. Nothing was unfixable to James. He'd been torn apart and re-knit far too many times to have any lack of faith in the man's freakish skills.

Zak stuttered a sob as James’ fingers wrapped around his limp arm, kneading playfully at the sagging muscle and fat, flesh jiggling without its support system.

Zak actually kicked away as James started to shove the sharpened shard back into his arm.

James’ eyes rolled. “What? You want me to leave you like this? I was under the impression you wanted to keep your bones.”

Zak squeaked as James jerked him closer again. Aaaaaand suddenly legs-worky privileges were revoked again, keeping Zak still and helpless as the jagged edge scraped along the oozing flesh, shaving it back and catching on the fibers as it slid back into pace.

Zak choked on a cry, eyes closed so hard he saw flashes of plumeing color behind his lids. Basically TV. Prime entertainment any day of the week. So pretty pretty pretty.

The bone crunched as it twisted, chipping away a live piece and ripping another ragged sob from his barely-functional throat.

Whatever.

He was too tired to care.

Finally, the gagging and the grinding ground to a gritty stop, leaving him breathless as James’ fingers closed up the slice easily.

Bone re-knitting always felt so strange.

Everything so itchy and…chalky? He could feel it shifting slightly as his body built new connections to press together the tattered pieces, stretching the valley between them and re-working it with a convex shield of calcium. 

Well.

Calcium?

Was that right?

Or was it keratin? 

No no, that was bugs - Zak was pretty sure.

It had been a while since school.

Or outside.

Or…

Anything, really.

Zak decided to settle on it being calcium and not think about it anymore. He settled into the quiet, shuddering relief as the pain all but melted away.

There were tears caught in his ear lobes. 

Ew. Itchy.

Salt.

He flicked an exhausted glare up to James as the man pulled back.

James’ eyebrow quirked up. “You have something to say?”

Zak swallowed with some difficulty, vocal chords unfreezing in permission to actually fucking use them for once. 

“..y..you jus….y-ou took me out….for that?”

James shrugged. “What? You think we were going on vacation or something?”

Zak just stared as James stood, heading to the stairs. He chucked a bottle toward Zak.

Protein shake.

Basically half his meals.

“Drink. I’ll be back tonight.”

Zak coughed as he rolled onto an elbow, pulling himself up to sitting. “..g-ourmet - nice-”

James didn’t seem to care enough to respond. He just headed up the stairs, letting the door slam shut again behind him. Chains rattled - then clicked as the padlock snapped into place.

Zak sat up, scrubbing the tears from his eyes and picking up the bottle.

Fuck -ow!?!?

He flinched back as that HURT.

He glanced down at his hand - one finger still swollen.

James hadn’t fixed that one.

….still broken.

…broken by the strange boy James had hurt alongside him.

The one who held his hand.

Maybe a little hard, sure, but….

He’d held Zak’s hand.

No one had touched him that softly since…

Well, he couldn’t even remember when.

Any thoughts of the protein shake faded away as he settled himself against the stone wall, holding his hand. His eyes roamed over the faint outline of it in the darkness. His index finger traced the break.

The most wonderful pain he’d had yet.

He held it close, mind filled with this strange new face. Strange new pain from a strange new setting. A strange new story to build.

Finally not bored.

[Previous | Masterlist | Next]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @mabledonut @whumpawink @heathenwhump @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wormwriting @cryptidhongo @villainsvictim @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @siren-of-agony @bandages-andobsessions @deltaxxk @rose-pinkie @whumpasaurus101 @warm-my-whumpee-heart @cursedscribbles)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

[writinglittlebeasts]

find-it game (2)

i was tagged by @lorenfinch to find the words [gloom], [sky], [wonder], [beyond], [grace] somewhere in my pile of wips ( i have so many documents open right now)

GLOOM - from SOME UNTITLED FIC i'm desperately trying to finish

She takes Eliot's elbow and he bends down to hear her instinctually, eyes darting towards her for a moment long enough to see the shine of sweat on her forehead. Her teeth are brilliant white in the gloom, grin wide, lipstick fresh.

SKY - from KILL MY HEROES (i just straight up do not talk about the sky and i guess i ought to start)

Penny releases his hold over Fen's subconscious and her dream fades out of focus, replaced with a facsimile of Penny's temple: the walls begin a gradient of deep, warm orange near their feet which melts into sky blue which melts into the ever-turning, star-pocked sky high, high above their heads in a monumental display of spatial magic. Here, so low, the space is lit by a convex oven bowing out from the floor, but the light cast doesn't interfere with the clarity of the stars. This room is full of soft furniture, and shelves and tables glitter with offerings.

WONDER - from A WOLF'S TOOTH FOR REVENGE feat. i gender bent dr house for my book because i don't have any more names in me

The smell of chlorine disinfectant leaks, as along the floor in the way of smoke or heavy gasses, from each room in the hallway. It’s a wonder that any werewolf goes into medicine when the sharp itch of bleach pierces Kirby’s brain like a knife; when it drags at his ankles with physical presence when he walks. On his second day sitting vigil over Raleigh in that dark, violently-uncanny room, like a place out of time, he had asked the attending– Doctor Greta Abode Pedersen, who’s already run ragged as the only lycan practitioner in-state –how she could stand it, and the doctor had assured him that the senses adapt quickly to something so constant. After four days, Kirby has his doubts. He’s sure that he can feel his nostrils chapping, and his hands. His eyes sting. 

BEYOND - from A WOLF'S TOOTH FOR REVENGE

“Do you think that if I had the son of the Alpha Pedersen I would be talking to you?” Charlie condescends to him the way werewolves often do, assuming him a hapless human caught in the middle of a political struggle beyond his understanding. His answer is vague enough to exemplify this, because Kirby could be free or dead and Charlie doesn’t feel the need to tell Raleigh which. 

GRACE - from KILL MY HEROES

“Right.” Penny stands with a grunt, never quite elegant. “What did you want?” He is more practical than all of that; what focus other gods even unwittingly expend on grace and self-aggrandizement, Penny puts towards his work. Towards helping Quentin, despite it all. It's what gives Quentin the confidence to believe that Penny will help him now.

i will tag @zestymimblo @indigowriting @flowerprose to find the words hold, nearby, wear, throw

[morelikesin]

Day 14 - Drip

Elliott held the handkerchief against Alexander's head, fabric staining red and blood seeping through. He had made a low wince, but otherwise maintained his stoic nature. The older of the two seemed averse to the care.

"I'm fine."

"You're fine?" Elliott scoffed, pushing back Alexander's hair to easier clean the wound, "I'm not in the mood for you t' be all hardheaded, if I'm gonna be honest."

Alexander averted his eyes, fixating on the convex, small dragon bone sitting on the bedside table - rather, small compared to the dragon, anway. "I can mend myself, Elliott. Go look after the others."

Elliott covered the laceration with the last of his self-adhesive bandages. It was thought that he was pretending to have not heard him, up until he made a deep sigh and a scoff. His hand took the handkerchief back up to clean his upper lip, blood smeared across his skin and well soaked into his beard.

Octavio quickly wrapped himself in the fur blanket Mary had just arrived back with, leaving his left arm out so Natalie could continue to clean and doctor the abrasions. He looked over to his partners with an anxious laugh, "Awh, Xan, I'm not hurt bad enough t' get more than one pair of eyes on me. Blóð is fine too - I think."

Blóð simply managed a nod, throbbing headache and selective mutism preventing an answer in another form. Octavio relayed the message with a reaffirming "Sí, elle está bien."

The confirmation served to bring a few long moments of quiet, focus solely towards the doting on the afflicted people. Mary turned the branch on the brass samovar to pour the boiled water into the teapot, its steady stream slowing into pattering drips as she turned it back off. The red of the snowberry mash swirled within the water, and Mary set it back down again to let it steep.

Beneath Elliott's touch, he could tell Alexander was tense, and it wasn't long after that that the latter still wanted to say something.

"I still think you should rather put your concern into one of them."

Elliott tensed his shoulders and grunted, noise breathy and exhausted. Shaking his head, he pushed through the difficulty of conjuring up what to say instead of allowing himself to sit on his thoughts as he so normally did, "Look- can you- I just…" he raised his other hand to press his palm against Alexander's cheek, fingertips still chilled from the trek in the mountain cold, but his palm holding a good bit of warmth. He tried again, "Just let me do this, Xander, okay? I- I thought you…Look, just let me take care of you. If not for you, for me."

There was a moment of silence, save only for the gentle creaks of the bed and of the bench as the others tended to Blóð and Octavio's like, if not worse, injuries. Whatever semblance of pride Alexander harboured had cracked upon Elliott's plea. It was deeper than just caring for a wound, he knew.

Leaning into his hand, he looked to Elliott with a sigh and then silence - looking away again under the stimulation. Elliott rubbed his thumb beneath his eye, observing the lines in his skin and the periorbital darkness that had always been apparent. Elliott's lips tightened, blinking back a wetness in his eyes and swallowing a growing lump in his throat - taste of metallic bile. He returned to dabbing his laceration, shortly thereafter reaching for a cleansing tonic, but his supporting hand against the man's face never left.

[convexicalcrow]

you can't post drag queen convex art and not expect me to write fic about it >_>

marking as mature bc there's no actual sex, but a lot of horniness and touching and kissing in between them getting ready for a drag show.

Backstage at Ren's club was chaos. They were halfway through one of the biggest drag shows of the year, which made the chaos a little more chaotic than usual. The changing rooms weren't tiny, but for the amount of costuming and props that were floating around, they definitely weren't sufficient. Everyone was going all out tonight, and Paws and Scarvis weren't going to be left behind. They had big plans that required harnesses to lower them down onto the stage, at least four other leather boys from the club, and at least three costume changes. They never did anything by halves if they could help it, and that's why they were the closing act.

But that was all for later. For now, Paws was simply trying to get her make-up done while Scarvis struggled with her corset yet again. All around them, other queens were running around, and the music was loud but muffled enough to be slightly indistinct.

"I don't know why you bother with that corset, it always costs us so much extra time," Paws said, glancing over at Scarvis struggling to get the corset into the right position.

"Look, it makes my dress look amazing, okay? I can't be not looking amazing out there." She paused and grunted a little as she jumped and shifted the corset around until it was in place. "Okay, that's it, I think. Can you help tighten it? My shoulder's a little stiff at the moment."

Paws set her make-up down for a moment as she turned to her partner to help her out. Scarvis straightened as Paws started tightening the cords.

"Let me know when it's right. Don't want to make it so tight you die out there," Paws said.

Scarvis stifled a laugh. "Shut up. It was one time, okay? One time I overdid it! You can stop teasing me about that by now, okay?"

Paws laughed. "I mean, you're the one with the corset, not me. I pick much more sensible stage clothes."

Scarvis half-heartedly swiped at her, but Paws knew it wasn't serious. Besides, she had control of the corset, and placed her hand on her back for a moment to steady her.

"Just stay still for a moment, will you? And tell me if it's too tight! I'm not the one who can know that," Paws said.

"Alright, alright, just needs a bit more, I think," Scarvis said, straightening as Paws worked.

Paws did a half-knot to secure the ties before moving around to test how much space she still had to breathe. This corset didn't go over her chest, but it did compress her stomach and diaphragm a little, so she had to be sure it wasn't too tight. Scarvis hissed as Paws tucked her fingers into the corset, seeing how much give it had.

"Is that okay? It feels okay," Paws said.

Scarvis took a moment to move around it in. "Yeah, that seems fine. Finish the tie. I can dress from here."

"You sure? Even with your shoulder? Maybe I should be the only one on the harness tonight," Paws said.

"It's not so bad, I'll cope. Can't let them down, can we?" Scarvis said.

Paws finished the tie and turned her around, grabbing her chin as she caught her gaze. "Scar. Come on, now. Don't push yourself, we've been over this. I want a flawless show, not one in which you decide to do something stupid and end up hurting yourself even more, alright? We're the closing act. Remember that. If we need to change things, we change them. They'll understand, I promise."

Scarvis resisted for a moment, but she knew Paws was right. "Just massage it before we go on, and yeah, maybe only you do the harness. I'll just get the boys to carry me on, that'll still work, right?"

"Yeah, that'll work." Paws smiled and cupped her cheek, kissing her softly. "Good girl. I just don't want you hurting yourself because I don't want to do this without you, alright? I can, of course, but it's nowhere near as fun."

Scarvis kissed her back. "That's cos I bring all the sex appeal, right?"

Scarvis giggled and pulled away, reaching for her dress as Paws shook her head, turning back to her make-up. "Man, you don't even know the thirst I get out there. People like a thicc queen, I'm telling you."

Scarvis came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist. She kissed her neck. "Yeah, well, I like you the most."

Paws leaned into her touch, gazing at their reflections in the mirror in front of her. "You'd better, cos I'm not finding another partner. You're stuck with me."

Scarvis laughed. "Oh no, I'm stuck with the most beautiful queen, what a shame!" She brushed Paws' cheek with her fingers. "You really are beautiful though. I remember the struggle to get you on stage when we started, and now look at you! You own it now in ways I don't think I ever will. That's what keeps me going."

Paws smiled. Decided to respond by pulling her around and kissing her again. They'd been through so much together. Paws had been a he once, and a very unhappy one at that. It took Scarvis encouraging her to get on stage and be the queen she knew she had inside her to bring her out of her shell. Drag had literally saved her life, especially now that her body looked the way she wanted it to look. She could feel Scarvis' hands on her hips, something she would never tire of.

"I know we gotta be ready in, like, twenty minutes, but surely we could fuck before then, right?" Scarvis murmured against her neck as a hand strayed between her legs.

"Not the way you fuck me, we can't. Save it for after, alright?" Paws said, using all her self-control to focus on what they still had to do. "Go on, get into that sexy dress of yours. It'll take you at least five minutes to get the boots laced up, and you don't have that much time."

Scarvis pulled away reluctantly. "I know, I know. Such an inconvenience having to do a show first!" she said, overdramatising the whole situation. She giggled as she grabbed her dress and started pulling it over her head. "At least the dress takes no time. And I look amazing in it. They won't know what's hit them when I come out tonight."

"Knock 'em dead, Scarvis," Paws said as she stood back to see how her make-up looked. "Ehh, that'll do. It'll take long enough to get my hair styled properly."

"You always faff over the small details. You look great," Scarvis said as she straightened her dress. "But then you do have proper hair and I can at least prestyle the wig. So there is that."

Paws laughed as she started brushing her hair. "Proper hair! Yeah, that's what you call it, absolutely. And you're the one who spends and hour on your make-up. I've got mine down to fifteen minutes!"

"Well, you know what I mean!" Scarvis sat down and grabbed her boots. "Oh, I'm not going to enjoy this, but the look is so worth it."

Paws looked over at her as she pulled the thigh-high black suede boots up her legs and zipped them up. "That's my Scarvis, dressing like a whore. They are great boots though."

"People like my thighs, what can I say?" she said brightly as she started on the lacing. "I definitely like your thighs more though."

Paws shook her head. "Save it for after. You can be horny for me all you like when we get home."

"Killjoy," Scarvis teased, but knew she was right. It wasn't her fault Paws had chosen a very tight blue sequinned dress that showed off her thighs and hips really nicely. She was going to enjoy undressing her la-

"Paws! Scarvis! Fifteen minutes! Get yer stinking butts out there!" came Ren's voice from outside their dressing room.

"We're nearly ready, don't worry! Only one harness tonight though, Scarvis is going to be carried in," Paws replied.

"Not trusting the shoulder hey? Alright, leave it with me! I'll let the riggers know," Ren said.

"Thanks, man," Paws said as Ren scampered off.

"Why does everyone care so much about my shoulder? I'm fine! I'm so fine!" Scarvis protested.

"You're not fine if you asked me to massage it before we go on tonight. No hurting yourself, understood?" Paws said.

"Fine." Scarvis sighed, returning to lacing her boots. "I'll be fine next time! You can count on that!"

"Well, maybe we might not do harnesses next time. Can't do the same show all the time, that's boring. I was thinking maybe we could use some kind of explosions though. That'd be fun. Light the stage on fire! Yeah!" Paws said as she fixed her hair in place.

Paws never bothered styling it too much. She liked having it fall over her shoulders. She felt it made her look much sexier. Given how long it had taken to grow to that length, she wanted to show it off as much as possible. She stood back, clipping a small segment off to the side, just to add a little sparkle. She added the necklace and the earrings, and felt she'd done enough.

"There, that'll do, I think. How are you doing? Need any help?" Paws said, turning back to Scarvis as she stepped into her heels.

"No, I'm good! Just got the laces finished. Help me up though? I always forget how hard it is to stand in these from this seat. It's too short!" Scarvis said, reaching for her.

"Girl, I don't know why you keep forgetting about that. But then the boots are worth it though, damn you look amazing," Paws said, seeing the full outfit as she helped her to her feet.

"Told you it'd be worth it!" Scarvis retrieved the wig and took a moment to settle it into place. "It's sitting okay, right? Not looking too wonky?"

"Looks fine to me. Come on, we gotta move. They're waiting for us," Paws said as she pulled her long opera gloves on followed by a matching bracelet.

"Alright, alright. Gimme a second," Scarvis said, pulling her own gloves on as well as a couple of spectacularly oversized rings. "There. That'll do. Ready?"

"Ready! Come on, time to slay," Paws said, leading the way out of the dressing room and out to the stage.

[jtangerine]

Convex Grunt

@martuzzio has this awesome hermitcraft space outlaws au that I highly suggest you guys check out. And when a Convex grunt was mention I knew I had to right something. This is just scene that I immediately saw in my head. And please keep in mind that English isn’t my first language and I’m still very new to writing, so if you have any tips or suggestions to improve this please tell me :) Also the Convex grunt design in this is based off of @side-of-art‘s there are also a lot of scenes in here inspire by other people.

Enjoy

SV-L67’s head pounded and he couldn’t seem to feel his body. His mouth felt like a desert and his heart beat in erratic patterns. He blindly reached towards his leg holster for his blaster, only to find nothing there. SV-L67’s brows furrowed and his lips pulled downwards into a frown, as he reached towards where his weapon should’ve been once again, a light flicked on above him and he blinked rapidly against the harsh brightness.

The scene above him slowly rendered into focus and SV-L67 couldn’t help but feel like his eyes are deceiving him when a female with eyes so brown they reminded him of his planet’s soil stared down at him from above. When the female blinks and the corners of her mouth turns upwards in a small grin, SV-L67 felt his heart leap up into his throat and he leaped off the bed so fast he almost collided with the female. A thousand questions whirled around his head as SV-L67 pushed himself against the wall of the room.

SV-L67’s eyes darted desperately over every inch of the room searching for an escape. In the center of the room stood a bed surrounded by various medical equipments and machines. From the other side of the room, the female regarded him with a look of great caution, her brown locks flowed down to right below her ears and a tight frowned replaced the smile that she previously wore. Her hands were raised in front of her as if she was talking to a scared animal. SV-L67 felt his heart jump again as two figures appeared behind her. They stood behind the only window in the entire room. The male on the left hid a fierce scowl behind his bushy beard. His crystal-like eyepatch glistened under the artificial light and his prosthetic and organic fists were both clenched at his sides. The male on the right had a much more neutral expression set on his face. His lavender skin was marked with scars. A nasal cannula stretched across his face and his gleaming purple eyes promised pain if SV-L67 even thought about harming the female in front of him.

SV-L67 felt his eyes widen and his breath hitch as his mind screeched to a halt, there was only one person in the universe that had such a distinct appearance as the man on the right, and that person is Xisumavoid, the legendary leader of the Hermits. Which meant that- he once again inspected the other two beings in his line of sight -the other male was Iskall, and the female must be Stress.

SV-L67 shifted into a defensive position as Stress crept towards him. He held his hands out in a warning but she still continued to get creep closer.

SV-L67’s tail lashed against the wall and he hissed, his golden eyes narrowing in anger.  

“What do you want?” He hissed with a lung rattling wheeze.

Stress stopped in her tracks, and behind her slightly crouched frame, SV-L67 could see Xisumavoid and Iskall seemingly communicating with their eyes. The two males locked gazes for a few more moments before the mercenary begrudgingly left.

SV-L67’s attention was once again drawn back towards Stress as the medic murmured in a tentative voice,

“You were injured during the Convex invasion.”

And with that one sentence, SV-L67 felt everything slam into him like a smack to the face. The Convex had planned this invasion for months on end. They thought that they had everything planned out, every single step was laid out in meticulous detail. They thought that they would be able to end this criminal organization once and for all.

SV-L67 only had short flashes of the actual battle, but based on the position he was in right now, SV-L67 could guess that it didn’t turn out too well.

“We just want to help.” Stress said, shaking SV-L67 out of his thoughts, “how are you feeling?”

SV-L67’s eyes darted between the cold-gazed admin and the healer, his mind jumping from one thought to another.

“Numb.” He answered hesitantly, his voice weak with a dry hack.

Stress’s form relaxed, she sighed and her eyes twinkled in pride, “that means the medicine is working.” She told him.

Another form appeared next to Xisumavoid, a female with long locks of blonde hair and eyes as blue as the ocean. She was holding something in her hand with a grip so tight SV-L67 worried that it was going to shatter. He assumed that this was FalseSymmetry, the merciless fighter.

A hidden door opened, revealing a long hallway, and the admin finally spoke up.

“Follow us.” He said, and SV-L67 couldn’t help but be surprised at the youth in his voice. SV-L67 stood up straighter and hesitantly shuffled towards him

As he reached the doorway, FalseSymmetry held the item in her hand towards him, it was cup filled with pinkish liquid. SV-L67 tentatively reached for the cup, and he glanced towards the fighter as he wrapped his paws around the cup.

“Drink it.” FalseSymmetry commanded, her eyes set in a dark glare.

SV-L67 gulped nervously and pulled the drink towards his body. He might me one of the dumber ones from his squad, be even he knew that it’s never a good idea to drink something the enemy offers.

“Don’t worry love,” a soft voice said from behind him, “it’s a healing potion, it’ll help you.”

Despite the healer’s reassurance, SV-L67 still felt iffy about the so-called potion, but he also knew that Stress took the Hippocratic Oath. So with a pounding heart, SV-L67  downed the drink in one go. To his surprise, the taste was amazing, and instantly SV-L67 could feel the strength return to his body and his horribly dry throat slowly recover.

FalseSymmetry and Xisumavoid stepped out of the room and into the wide hallway while Stress stayed behind.

SV-L67 blinked in surprise when neither of the Hermits made a move to restrain him, “your not going to tie me up?” He murmured in confusion.

“Not unless your into that kinda stuff.” Said a more than friendly voice from behind him. SV-L67 jumped in surprised and whirled around to see a male with the fluffiest blonde hair he’s ever seen. He concluded that this must be Zedaph.

“Zedaph,” Xisumavoid said in a irked tone, “I thought I told everyone to stay away from this room.”

The human-sheep alien raised his hands in a sheepish surrender, “I know, I know. But Mumbo wanted me get a book from his room.”

FalseSymmetry rubbed her temples in irritation and Xisumavoid just sighed.

“Fine.” The admin said in exasperation.

SV-L67 looked at him in amazement, he was just going to let his crew blatantly disrespect him like that? He didn’t have a lot of time to ponder this mysterious friendliness as the moment Zedaph disappeared around a corner, the admin and the fighter continued down the hallway.

A few moments of silence that were only broken by sound of muffled footsteps on carpet passed before the trio stopped in front of a large doorway. FalseSymmetry and Xisumavoid shared a look.

“We are about the enter the common area of the ship,” the admin said without glancing back, “and I will have to warn you, things might get a bit...chaotic, for lack of a better word.”

“And if you even think about hurting anyone, I will attack you without hesitation.” FalseSymmetry added.

SV-L67 gulped in fear, he likes to consider himself as a decent fighter, but against FalseSymmetry, he knew he stood no chance. So SV-L67 just straitened his posture and nodded meekly as he tried to mentally prepare himself for what was to come.

As the large doors slowly crept open, SV-L67’s imagination ran wild. What will this large and mysterious doorway reveal? Rows upon rows of torture machines? Or the other hermits just waiting for the moment to attack him? Luckily, the admin didn’t give him too much time to browse through all of these thoughts.

The first thought of SV-L67 when the doors finally revealed the common room, as Xisumavoid called it, was that the admin was dead wrong about how it would only be a bit chaotic. The best SV-L67 could describe it is that is was complete and total anarchy.

A man with prosthetic legs and gruesome scars sat crisscrossed on the floor with a kitten napping in his lap, he was engrossed in a conversation with a man in scientist robes and a bushy graying beard. SV-L67 immediately recognized these two as GoodTimesWithScar and Cubfan. These two ex-convexes were legendary in their escape. And SV-L67 felt anger course through him, who did they think they were? To just leave such a pristine group like the Convex for a group of criminals. Almost as if the two ex-convexes could feel his stare on their backs, they turned towards him with a glare. If looks could kill, SV-L67 would already be six feet underground. The only thing stopping SV-L67 from bolting was the slight fear that ever so slightly bled through their eyes.

Next up was a mustached man that SV-L67 recognized as Mumbo Jumbo. As SV-L67 spotted the redstone genius’s right hand that was currently hidden in a sling, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. And when Iskall shot him a death glare, SV-L67 felt himself shiver under the tight scrutiny.

When his eyes glanced towards the next group of hermits, he couldn’t help but do a massive retake. Three hermits seemed to be locked in a deadly battle of a...pillow fight? A male with flaming hair and blood red eyes (Tango, SV-L67 presumed) stood on a table and desperately tried to knock the other two hermits down as attempted to push him over. A brown-haired hermit, Impulse, slapped Tango in the face with a throw-pillow, only to curse loudly as the pillow catches on fire. Another hermit, with dirty-blonde hair and petite wings (this was probably the newest hermit, Grian) attempted to sneak up on the demon, but immediately blew his cover with loud laughter as Impulse shouted crude curses at the still flaming pillow.

A howl of laughter brought his attention towards four other figures standing near the middle of the room. A slime-like figure, Jevin, was altering his head to look like, various different shapes and appearances. And two other hermits, one with dark brown hair and a bandana tied around his forehead (Hypno), and the other with black hair and a terrifying grin that literally stretched across his whole face (one look at his more-than-average sized mouth, SV-L67 knew that this was Keralis, the absolutely terrifying banshee), were doubled over with gleeful chuckles and giggles. Behind them stood an ancient looking hermit, probably TFC as he is the second oldest of the crew, tries his best to hid his snickers behind his hands.

From the corner of the room, two hermits surveyed the room with grins on their faces and a slight giggle escaping here and there, the male seemed to blink in and out of existence. Next to him stood a greenish girl who had half her skin missing from her face, revealing the bones underneath. SV-L67 noted that these two were probably Joe Hills and ZombieCleo

Xisumavoid continued to walk forwards, pausing only to check that SV-L67 was still following. As they passed by the various hermits, SV-L67 noticed that FalseSymmetry stopped and joined Iskall and Mumbo Jumbo.

Chaos continued to rage as SV-L67 and Xisumavoid neared the exit, and SV-L67 can’t help feel bewildered by this whole situation. These were not the cold-blooded murders and criminals the Convex had told him about. And he was even more shocked by Xisumavoid’s tolerance, what type of leader let’s his followers openly mess around like a bunch of children!?

The admin lead him out of the common room and around a corner to reveal a room that SV-L67 assumed he would be staying in. There were two windows, one that would allow anyone passing by to peek in, and the other peers into the great expanse of empty space. A single mattress with a pillow and a blanket lay in the far right corner. On the left wall was a bookshelf filled to the brim with books in different languages and from different cultures.

SV-L67 was stunned by this hospitality, and when Xisumavoid moved aside to let him enter, he couldn’t help but ogle the room with wide eyes. This was even better than his quarters aboard the Convex.

“This will be your room.” The admin said from behind him, “if you put any amount of force against the walls, we will know, so don’t even think about escaping.”

SV-L67 nodded, his brain still struggling to catch up with the amount of generosity this crew has shown him.

While he continued to gawk at the room, Xisumavoid studied him from his place at the doorway. A few silent moments passed before the admin spoke again.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

SV-L67 considered how he should answer this question. The Convex always told him that he should never reveal any information, but he doubted a name could really make a difference, so with a slight hesitation, “SV-L67.” He answered.

To his confusion, the admin clenched his jaw and scowled, did he do something wrong?

“You’re a person, not a number.” He sneered, “I meant your real name, the one you were born with.”

SV-L67 felt his mouth gape open. No, this was definitely not the cold-blooded ruler that the Convex depicted.

“Uh...Lan.” He said, the word foreign against his tongue.

Xisumavoid mouthed it and nodded to himself, “Call me X.” He said, bearing a soft smile.

And as the admin backed out of the room and closed the hidden door behind him,

SV-L67 Lan felt the doubts he had pushed down years ago resurface.

What if...what if the Convex was wrong?

[martuzzio]

Concept: Convex invasion and most of them are driven away by an angy BDubs, except for one who is two injured to leave the ship. X asks Stress to fix the man whom they will keep as a hostage for a bit and while everyone else is like “WHAT ARE YOU DOING” Stress is like “aight cool got it boss”

Iskall’s cybernetic fingers twitch as he glares through the window between him and the med bay. The convex thug they took hostage is sprawled across Stress’ surgery table as she flits around him, tapping at her tablet to prepare for the upcoming procedure. The being’s triangular skull drips traces of purple goo. Iskall yearns to crush it beneath his hands. That being, the one Stress is worrying over so much, hurt Mumbo. They crushed Mumbo’s hand with a scaly paw to destroy the remote he was holding and in the process almost completely shredded his dear friend’s hand to the bone. Iskall wants to shred this being’s skin in return. He wants to make them feel the pain Mumbo felt before Stress patched him up and loaded him with painkillers.

Iskall is dragged from his thoughts when he senses Xisuma silently approaching. He doesn’t bother turning to greet him. Once reaching the window, the Voidkind stands next to him and most likely takes in the scene within the medbay. “You seem troubled.” Xisuma says at last. “But I know you understand.”

Iskall turns to his admin. Xisuma gazes back, eyes and star-ridden robes glowing in the dim hallway. Iskall’s jaw clicks with tension. “I understand why we took the grunt as our prisoner and I understand why Stress is patching them up, but that doesn’t mean I need to like it.”

Xisuma is silent for a moment, but then murmurs, “We try to do as little harm as possible. I have faith that you know what that means.”

Iskall looks away, back at the monster on the operating table whose head has finally stopped bleeding. His cybernetic fingers form a fist and in that moment, he wonders if he’s the monster. “I have never known what that means.”

Space outlaws lore can be seen here.

[wooshofficial]

Woah! Another fic? About HC? In the same month? Impossible!

Y’all, it’s possible. Mostly bc @martuzzio’s AU is too good for this world. Uhhhh L67 is baby. I am love him. I give him hug.

Warning: Angst

[side-of-art]

I am having entirely way too much fun with Lan but I don’t care! He’s precious and I love him.

From @martuzzio‘s space outlaws au, the amputation coming from @wooshofficial‘s writing that they did for it!