#the human sized folk in

[theminiartblog]

"He had auburn hair, and the dullest of gray eyes, though it was said by those who knew him that they seemed to shine when something truly intrigued him, for better or worse." - Soliloquy

These your mans?

[mushygiggles]

~Sowwy my hand slipped. I was just eager to get to draw robot kissing with tickles 👉👈 💞💞 -Guess I let the mystery tickler cat out of the bag a bit.. But I'm sleepy and wanna take a nap so I'll just post this for now with brief explanation!~ :3c

All you need to know for now is that is Mimi's (currently nameless) boyfriend! (Uses he/they) 💜...and they happen to be a sentient robot! (Think Electric Dreams meets Her minus ALL the sadness. No tragedy here folks.)

They're also uh.. veryyyy good at tickling.. and surprising her hehe.

What goes better than make outs and tickles? Absolutely nothing. Nothing I tell you! Hehe 💗⭐

-I'll probably color this later! 💜

[bluebluebluewoods]

eeek id love 2 see leaf in your style !! - vanity 🌈

a human left alone in the woods as a baby, she was taken in by mother nature. now as an adult shes slowly becoming something more than human, shes becoming a Concept.

...itd happen quicker if she could remember how to turn into a tree the way her mama taught her

[mantisgodsdomain]

Sometimes we are deeply deeply tempted to make line-ups of our AU Versions Of Characters or something of the like, but then we remember our consistent preference for AUs to be canon-adjacent at absolute minimum meaning a lot of them will look relatively same-y combined with our struggle to draw character sizes accurately to each other makes that task a lot harder than it arguably should be.

[spookyscarycreepydollgirl]

Warning: The following snippet contains; Minor mentions of blood and gore, some body horror, lots of arachnophobia triggers. Size difference. A shady fae creature on their best behaviour. Unspecified bargains with said shady fae creature. Some very dead monsters.

The face was familiar, though the size of it was not, nor was the number of eyes, the chelicerae protruding from his jawline, the sharpness of his canines or the number of arms. Speaking of his arms and indeed his limbs in general not only were they larger but proportionately they had elongated to the border of grotesque but merely the border as if Bastion were fighting to maintain some semblance of the illusion of humanity in her presence. That illusion was already well and truly lost, because the being before her was not merely huge and grotesquely proportioned but it’s movements were more like a spider than a man.

“Do not run Ida.” The creature cautioned, in that all too familiar, ever gentle voice, albeit this time with the disturbing addition of distorted reverberations, as though the same voice were overlapping with itself, just slightly out of sync and speaking at both higher and lower frequencies at intervals.

“If you run, I will most definitely chase you and I fear even with our agreement, I will not be able to control myself”

“Are you going to eat me Bastion?” She asked carefully, after all, when dealing with inhumanity, it never hurt to clarify, for all she knew he was simply warning her away from a more painful death, not warning her away from the prospect of death in its entirety, in which case, she was in fact going to have to run.

He laughed and despite the distortion there was something quite deprecating about it. “As much as I would love to, in this particular instance I am in fact trying to behave myself, come here Ida.”

Naturally she stayed where she was. He huffed at her. “Yes I realise it seems counterproductive, but please come to me” There was a note of desperation in his voice and after taking the correct amount of time to assess if this was a ploy, Ida took pity on him, moving towards the hulking thing before her, though even she wasn’t quite sure how she managed to cross the distance.

Multiple arms wrapped around her, the embrace was warm and oddly gentle but there was an undercurrent of strength to it and Ida held no illusions about her chances of breaking free should he not want her to. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and sighed. Honestly at this size he was a little heavy but the way he seemed to sag with relief as he held her, made her feel obliged to weather through it with dignity.

“Apologies Ida, I did not think they would be so brazen as to attack you while you were under my protection. It was terribly rude and I am quite upset with them.”

As she patted one of his arms in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. Ida thought about the numerous dead monsters presently leaking blood and viscera onto the forest floor and concluded that The Spider Prince had a remarkable talent for understatement.

[quiveringdeer]

Camera Roll Challenge: Dating Sasha Braus part 2

Part 2 by popular demand! (my brain needing more Sasha content 😤 and @strawberrystepmom being a sweetie to ask😘)

Ok we all know Sasha is a top tier comedic dork without trying. But can we also acknowledge just how freakin cool she is??

It's such a treat seeing her in her element outdoors or in the archery range. The way her breathing slows as she pulls back the bowstring, arm perfectly level as those pretty brown eyes focus on where she wants the arrow to hit.

And let's take a second to think about the way the muscles in her back and arms flex when pulling back a string with a draw weight of 65lbs (29.5 kg) on her recurve bow. Even going in not knowing anything about archery or draw weights that's gotta sound pretty impressive.

Just looking at Sasha it isn't that obvious how incredibly strong she is. She's not rockin Mikasa's washboard abs, her tummy is generally really soft cause we know girl is constantly shoving food in her mouth and we love this about her 😌. But due to her being an avid hiker, hunter, competative archer and just doing all the random hijinks of climbing on everything, her arms and legs are incredibly strong. Which means snuggling in close with her or receiving an official Sasha Braus hug is such a comforting, safe experience.

Because food is such a huge love for her it's always a fun and positive experience cooking with her or going out to try new eats in town and especially when you take trips for her archery competitions.

Although Sash is an incredibly active person she's very open to stay home days where you both stay in sleep clothes and play games or watch movies. As long as she has you and some snacks, she's more than happy.

top right: chill day at home reading while sasha amuses herself by tossing up peanut m&ms to catch in her mouth. somehow, one goes astray and before you even know what's happening she's diving over the back of the couch to 'save' it. Now how does someone with such impeccable hand eye coordination get herself in this situation? 🤔 that answer will have to wait until after you capture this adorable snapshot and finishing laughing.

second row middle: this photo is in your camera roll cause Connie sent it to y'all's group chat. Askin if you wish you were there. Which, nope. You're happy you don't have to pretend not to know this trio of fools. Where do they even get these urges from? Isn't Jean supposed to be the voice of reason? He tries to be but he's just as silly as Sash and Connie sometimes. Fools. But you love them all.

second row right: just trying to scroll through your phone when Sasha is craving attention. 🧡

bottom right: moments like this remind you of your girlfriend's genius. 🥰

[neorukixart]

Here have my 2022 Art Summary while I remind you that even when I'm a pair of glasses, is thanks to the human that I wear that I am able to draw with her own hands. She spent over 15 years crafting her skills and she actually knows how to draw hands ;3

My art might not be perfect, but at least I draw it myself (the human I wear) so, your so called "AI art" can go to hell uwu

Hire real people guys, they will be more understanding than those. Don’t want to hire real people? Well great news for, you can do it yourself if you know how to pick up a pen/pencil! ;3

[saphushia]

btw. i made this quick guide of some of the natural size and proportion reference points in the human body. of course this all varies even irl, and you can stylize however you want, so ymmv but thought it might be helpful for some folks.

[mcmansionhell]

mojo dojo casa house

Howdy folks! Sorry for the delay, I was, uhhhh covering the Tour de France. Anyway, I'm back in Chicago which means this blog has returned to the Chicago suburbs. I'm sure you've all seen Barbie at this point so this 2019 not-so-dream house will come as a pleasant (?) surprise.

Yeah. So this $2.4 million, 7 bed, 8.5+ bath house is over 15,000 square feet and let me be frank: that square footage is not allocated in any kind of efficient or rational manner. It's just kind of there, like a suburban Ramada Inn banquet hall. You think that by reading this you are prepared for this, but no, you are not.

Scale (especially the human one) is unfathomable to the people who built this house. They must have some kind of rare spatial reasoning problem where they perceive themselves to be the size of at least a sedan, maybe a small aircraft. Also as you can see they only know of the existence of a single color.

Ok, but if you were eating a single bowl of cereal alone where would you sit? Personally I am a head of the table type person but I understand that others might be more discreet.

It is undeniable that they put the "great" in great room. You could race bicycles in here. Do roller derby. If you gave this space to three anarchists you would have a functioning bookshop and small press in about a week.

The island bit is so funny. It's literally so far away it's hard to get them in the same image. It is the most functionally useless space ever. You need to walk half a mile to get from the island to the sink or stove.

Of course, every McMansion has a room just for television (if not more than one room) and yet this house fails even to execute that in a way that matters. Honestly impressive.

The rug placement here is physical comedy. Like, they know they messed up.

Bling had a weird second incarnation in the 2010s HomeGoods scene. Few talk about this.

Honestly I think they should have scrapped all of this and built a bowling alley or maybe a hockey rink. Basketball court. A space this grand is wasted on sports of the table variety.

You would also think that seeing the rear exterior of this house would help to rationalize how it's planned but:

Not really.

Anyways, thanks for coming along for another edition of McMansion Hell. I'll be back to regular posting schedule now that the summer is over so keep your eyes peeled for more of the greatest houses to ever exist. Be sure to check the Patreon for today's bonus posts.

Also P.S. - I'm the architecture critic for The Nation now, so check that out, too!

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar, because media work is especially recession-vulnerable.

[homunculus-argument]

Fantasy stories should have more "what do you mean you don't do X" things in compare and contrast of cultures. Like the differences between peoples aren't the stuff they show off as "These Are Our Culture :)" things, fucking everyone has food and music and folk tales, but the things they've always assumed that everyone has, and are baffled to discover that they don't.

The people who are always barefoot are baffled that humans don't have a wash basin at their front door where people can wash their feet before stepping inside?? Do they just walk in with their dirty feet? The fuck do you mean you take your shoes off?

Humans don't have small baby-sized spellbooks for toddlers who just learned to read, so they can safely learn to practice tiny cute and harmless, age-appropriate magic spells before progressing to more mature and demanding spells? What, do they just throw teenagers completely unprepared into the arcane - hold the fuck up, is that why human sorceror mortality is so fucking high?

Dwarves who have always wondered why the entrance to human residences is so fucking big, why do you need to take up such a large area for a door that's just there to lead downstairs to the underground halls? Are the timber walls really as thick as a human is tall? What for? And once one of them gets invited to a human house to stay and rest, nobody ever fucking believes her: That's not the entrance, that's the whole fucking house. 100% of the human house is aboveground, there is no tunnel to the underground levels. They might have a single storage room down there, but the aboveground section is so fucking big because that's the whole house.

This post was brought to you by: People who butter their bread and who had no idea that there are people who put mayonnaise on their bread, and people who put mayo on their bread and had no idea about people who put butter on their bread discovering that the other kind of people exist.

[spookyjarchivist]

i understand where you’re coming from, but you’re misunderstanding me a bit, this isn’t actually an in-universe perspective, this is a literary perspective, i was analyzing this from a thematic and narrative standpoint, in which case yes they do in fact age like humans bc that’s part of tolkien’s themes and narratives about war, regardless of the theoretical science

however, you do bring up an interesting point on that in-universe note and i think that’s an interesting path to pursue for fandom purposes

the thing is… they’re still human?

hobbits are stated in canon to be humans, they are simply an evolutionary offshoot of men, so it’s reasonable to assume from an in-universe perspective that they age the same and we have no in-canon evidence that they are magical in anyway despite rampant fanon (that i love, no shame)

tolkien was not a historian or archaeologist, he was philologist, and it shows bc there are major inaccuracies in his work about a lot of things historically, even if you include the fantasy aspect

the shire is an idealized (tho imperfect) representation of home, comfort, and plenty, and the hobbits are (to an extent) stand-ins for the everyman, while yes this is more literary in nature, what it DOES mean in-universe is that he either directly states or implies that all the necessary things for a happy healthy life are things the shire has in abundance, we have proof in canon and/or extended canon for easy access to food, shelter, and healthcare AND they all get regular sun and are implied to have some form of regular exercise whether through work or walking holidays or gardening of some sort, plus a vibrant community they regularly interact with, all of which are key characteristics of areas on our real earth where people DO regularly live to around and past 100 (there are about seven well known areas, iirc i think okinawa is one?), in fact when you read descriptions of those hotspots? they sound alarmingly like the shire (the one in europe and the one in south america especially), like basically everything that’s not a culturally exclusive or geographical thing sounds like a description of the shire

aside from the long-life hotspots, scientists have also have recently estimated that the longest a human could theoretically live in absolute perfect conditions with no health problems like illness or hereditary diseases and the like is about 150, which is over when bilbo sailed into the west at 131 and he is canonically the longest lived hobbit, considering hobbits are in about as ideal a setting as you can get (bilbo even more so by living in rivendell at the end with literally the best healer in middle earth) then i think it’s perfectly reasonable to assume that they work the same on an in-universe level to us, particularly since tolkien wasn’t an expert on any of this and was just pulling anything that wasn’t linguistics-based or straight from the works he studied mostly out of his ass

while i do have a soft spot for “hobbits age slower than humans so 33 for them is our physical 18” i rlly dont think that’s how it is bc they get to about the same age as humans before death by old age, i also really dont think we appreciate enough a few things about what this means narratively and thematically

tolkien really said no child soldiers, no 20-something year old soldiers, they’re not really adults yet, they barely know anything of the world we’re sending them to die for it and that’s not okay, not when there are other options

he also addresses this with the hobbits specifically, frodo and bilbo are 50 when they go on their journeys, FIFTY, and we can see that they handle them differently than the others. while bilbo changes afterwards, it’s not in a coming of age like we would see if 50 really was the equivalent of ~27, he just accepts a part of himself he’s been suppressing for years, for him it’s accepting that getting older and being an adult doesn’t restrict you from the excitement and opportunities of youth. similarly frodo doesn’t change much either outside of his ptsd, all of his change is trauma, not maturity

now sam and merry are both past the age of majority, but they still grow into themselves in a way bilbo and frodo do not, they mature

but pippin, sweet beautiful pippin grows the most out of all of them. he’s the most childish, always running after his cousins and you can tell he’s not even 30, this is HIS coming of age story, before this journey he’s known nothing of true responsibilities, but by the end he’s ready for when he eventually has to take over as thain of the shire

and i think that this is a really beautiful way of saying something that has started to get really popular in the last few years

instead of being terrified of that big 30, we should be excited for it, we should embrace it wholeheartedly, because it’s the time when we’ve finally started ironing out the last of the kinks in being an adult, we’re growing into our responsibilities and and we can start learning how to cultivate that balance of responsibility and excitement and FUN that makes life living instead of surviving

[dee-the-red-witch]

How to ACTUALLY date a trans girl

(This column was originally submitted to Autostraddle as a reply to their "A Trans Guy’s Guide to Picking Up a Trans Girl" but since they've apparently passed on it, it gets to be posted up free everywhere else instead.) Picture this- you’re a trans woman who’s been in transition for three years now. Your dating life has gone from abysmal to amazing in alternate fits and spurts and you’ve found not just one, but three awesome partners despite the many, MANY pitfalls you’ve experienced along the way. And then one day, your social media feeds ping up with screencaps of a guide to picking up girls like yourself. Needing a good laugh, you click through. And read. And proceed to smack your forehead with your own palm in frustration a few times and giggle and some other lines on the first readthrough. But things feel off, so you read again. And begin to seethe. And then start opening up the Word document and start typing frenziedly into it. Because honestly? At the end of the day, as a trans lesbian who dates all sorts of people on non-male parts of the amorphous spectral mass that is Gender, I feel like I’m obligated to. I wanted to go into that first reading and find a column that actually got things right, and this was so far off the mark in the worst ways, so I feel like I have to set some things down on paper. Because this guide reads, in so many ways, like everything my cisfem friends have complained about in the straight dating scene for years. Reading through it that second time, I felt almost the exact same sense of of sheer grease and sleaze that I’ve felt reading incel pickup guides. I felt like I was being seen as a pretty object at best and a disposable sex toy at worst. I wasn’t treated as human. At best it was a bunch of stereotypes, none of which applied to me. But under it all, I saw other bits- the tricks an abuser used to lure me in. The lies my rapist fed me. The excuses made by folks online for why I should be treated like a monster or thing because of my identity. You know, the specific blend of misogyny that singles out transfem identities in general- transmisogyny. And since we’re addressing the elephant in the room, I want to address a few particular points from Gabe’s article before I give you some real idea of how to go about this. And I want to emphasize here- this is after editing out a page of swearing, going over Gabe’s own past history of transmisogynistic writing, and just cutting it down to the actual points where the original article really went wrong, and also pick up a few points at the end that’ll actually work well for trans guys or anyone else who might be interested in a relationship with a trans girl. First off, if you’re trans as well? Stop playing the ‘we’re both trans’ card. ESPECIALLY if you’re coming at it from a ‘Why yes, I used to be a woman’ angle. For one, you’re telling us at the same time that you see us as former men, which is usually very much not the transfem experience (Personally, I always felt like I was putting on a ‘man’ act. All the time. Badly.) and for another, you’re being transphobic to yourself and your own identity. If we’re there to date you, it’s as the man you are- be that guy.

Secondly, just because the trans woman experience shares similarities with the experience you had trying to be a woman up until you came out and transitioned, it also has staggering fundamental differences, and your attempts to relate are going to highlight those differences in ways that aren’t going to work in your favor. We didn’t get to go shopping in public, or if we did, it was fraught with fear at being caught out in the early stages of transition, followed by massive frustrations with both trying to figure out where we fit into women’s sizing. And then discovering that absolutely nothing available in local stores, including thrift shops, would fit right, especially not that cute choker we’d always been drooling over. That nothing smelled right for lotion or perfume because we were dealing with a body chemistry that was going through a slow shift on HRT. And we don’t need or want to be reminded of just how much we stand out from the other girls in those kind of regards.

Also, maybe, just maybe, don’t do things that would get seen as completely misogynistic and creepy if you pulled them on a cisgender woman. Don’t go digging into her socials- stalkers and chasers pull that crap and it’s beyond tiresome. Don’t try to deduce what her pretransition life was like, that’s for her to share, if she chooses to. Don’t see her as a stereotype- some of us never played New Vegas, owned cat ears, or like thigh-highs. On that first date if you ever get there, don’t bring her flowers, lovebomb her like mad, constantly find little ways to touch her, any of that- if she has any experience, she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop in response, because she’s had this treatment before and it ended oh so badly. Just be yourself. And get it through your head that the bear is still definitely a choice regardless of everything- after all, we have examples like Gabe to prove that transmisogyny certainly isn’t limited to cis folks.

What should you do? Treat her like any other woman. Treat her like a human being, because we get so little of that, even from the rest of the LGBTQIA+ community. Yes, you’ll more than likely have to take initiative, because we’re used to seeing our attractions, needs, and desires as being perceived as aggressive or predatory by others. When you touch her, do it with assertion and intent- none of the little brushes and stalker moves- ask if you can hold her hand, or put an arm around her, so she knows you actually want to be here and want contact with her. Listen to her, and pay attention- let her be open and honest about her experiences and interests, and remember what she tells you, because she’s going to need to know that she’s wanted and valued for who she is and what she’s into, and it will be part of how she connects to you. And finally? Common sense and communication- every last one of us is different in a lot of ways, and asking or making room to talk about things from physical contact and sex to social activity or group outings or anything else can save a lot of blunders from ever happening. All in all you can and should date trans women! Please! A lot of the best relationships I’ve ever had were with other trans girls and I don’t regret any of those. But you have to put down the pickup guides, stop seeing us as fetish dispensers and sexy lampshades, and actually deal with us as people, first.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Between A Rock And A Hard Place

Male Yandere Human-like Golem x Gender Neutral Human Reader (CW: Noncon, huge dick, golem man, magic, fatal violence towards bandits, spit used as lube, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.8k (Sorry this took forever, was originally going to be a drabble and then kinda got away from me, hope you all enjoy huge dick golem man.)

The small town that you lived in, Somnheim, had been victim to a swathe of horrible luck. Raided by bandits, packs of beasts killing livestock, and enemy soldiers scavenging what they could. Finally the town had enough and sent for a practitioner of the magic arts to aid them in the defense of their village.

This was you.

They didn’t have much but they offered a home and food for your services. You figured you could help them and have a quiet place to conduct your research away from the prying eyes of the council, who liked to hold newer mages under their thumb. It would also just be something nice you could do for your fellow humans, and these folks clearly needed the help.

You didn’t want to stay in this place forever though, so your solution would have to be one that would last long after you were gone.

Given your expertise in summoning and animating the logical choice was a good, old fashioned, golem. A pentagram, some select incense, clay flesh molded to a slate skeleton and imbued with an amethyst heart carrying an artificial soul, some runes carved in, and a scroll inserted that would have him follow his purpose and give him personality.

Then just add in a spell that turned the humanoid clay man into something more human so as not to frighten the villagers too badly and make him able to experience a near human existence.

The ritual was a complete success. Of course it was. You were you after all, young but talented and more importantly utterly dedicated to your craft.

Somnheim now had a mighty protector. An artificial man over 9 feet tall, with huge bulging muscles, shaggy brown hair, stoic brown eyes that gave nothing away, and glowing green runes on his arms and legs. The spell that made him human-like was more than just visual, it gave him nearly all the functions of a human male, he’d be as durable and strong as the hardest metal, never age, and of course he was certainly infertile.

Not one for creative names, you named him Slate.

Eventually bandits came by and decided they would stock up in Somnheim before going on to bigger and better loot.

They did not live to regret that decision.

Slate simply rolled a massive boulder down the hill they approached from and flattened all but a couple. Those he took care of quickly with magically precise throws of average sized stones.

Over the months any threat he couldn’t flatten with a boulder or smack with a stone he would pop open with his mighty fists.

By the end of his first year as the village’s guardian he was beloved by every single townsperson. Even the tiny children, who would climb on him and put flowers in his shaggy hair as he smiled and watched, had no fear of him.

You had enjoyed your time there, but eventually it was time for a change of scenery. You wanted to do more field research and you had saved enough money up with side projects to be able to fund a trip to the other side of the country near The Great Forest.

The villagers were grateful and sad to see you go, but they were much more interested in Slate than you.

But when you packed your bags to leave behind your wattle and daub dwelling once and for all you found yourself blocked by Slate.

He uttered one word in that deep, almost monotone, voice of his.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? I have to leave.” You tried to squeeze past him but he was not having it.

“I must protect the village… Your presence here makes the village safer… I might need repairs… or reinforcements… And you also tasked me with keeping you safe…”

You fudged the wording. You, breather of life into stone, weaver of clay, and creator of souls, messed up the wording.

He picked you up like a box of luggage and sat you on a chair in your makeshift study before going over to the heaviest bookshelf, picking it up, and placing it in front of the only door so you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll move it when I need to leave… then I will put a rock outside to keep you here…”

And that became your life. A literal prisoner in your own home.

Your magical abilities were useless in this situation, you were not a battlemage that could explode a wall, you couldn’t teleport, you bent earth.

Of course you tried to tunnel your way out by making a hole under your bed, but Slate had walked in and caught you red handed. He had confiscated and locked away all your magical supplies and texts unless you needed them to repair him you were not getting them back.

Slate was tentative enough of your physical needs, bringing you food and water and taking you outside like some sort of pet for sunlight, fresh air, and exercise. You had tried to run away but of course he had inhuman speed. And the villagers refused to help. What if Slate refused to save them if they did that?

It was a fair concern, he was made to protect the village and not villagers, he may even see them as a threat if they assisted you. You were on your own.

Though you were healthy enough physically your mental condition was deteriorating rapidly. How could you not be? Being trapped in the same building, even with trips outside, was awful. The villagers only looked at you with pity if they looked at you at all, and no one would even talk to you anymore.

It got to the point where you barely eat, refused to go outside, and spent all your time laying in bed.

Slate was failing the magical directives that governed his personality and behavior. You were clearly not safe, he was convinced that you would die if this continued, and honestly you likely would… eventually…

But the golem was not incapable of learning. He observed the other humans to find out what he could add to your life to bring you back to your usual self.

One night, when he was sitting in front of the house watching the humans passing by and holding hands, he came to the conclusion that humans had families, they lived together in their dwellings and they loved each other. They coupled together and mated.

Up until this point Slate had only been directed by simple emotion and the unyielding parchment that had imbued him with his goals. But now his task demanded something more of him, it demanded a much more complex emotion. The magic in him allowed this evolution, and now he was much more dangerous because he loved you. But it wasn’t just love he felt for the first time, it was lust.

Slate’s expression became one of someone thinking about the one who they adored infinitely, an expression of a man thinking about the person he wanted to have writhing in pleasure beneath him, even his normally green runes and brown eyes took on an amorous pink glow.

When you heard the boulder blocking the door shift and then heard the bookshelf take its place as what was blocking your way out as Slate came lumbering in with his heavy steps you didn’t even glance up.

Not until he stood in front of you and you noticed his strange pink glow replacing his green one did you stir.

You sat up in bed and when you saw the strange way his normally near emotionless eyes were staring at you, and glowing, you scooted away.

“I know what you need now! I am so sorry for not realizing sooner…” He said in a surprisingly soothing tone, a stark departure from his normally deep monotone.

“What do yo-”

Your words were forgotten as he took off his shirt and pants revealing a sweaty body and a frighteningly large cock.

“You need a partner to be happy, like the other humans, and you need to mate!”

He sounded very eager.

“No! Uh… I don’t need to… mate. I need to lea-” he put a large finger over your lips and shushed you before gripping your pants and peeling them and your underwear away from you carefully.

There was no dissuading him from his chosen course of action, he would make you happy and keep you safe no matter what!

It’s what you needed.

Slate leaned forward and spit all over your hole, thoroughly lubing it with his spit, before pressing his big cock into your hole.

It was so large that you let out a whimper of pain at first, but he was somehow knowledgeable enough about sex to know he needed to let you adjust to the size rather than just ramming himself in.

You gasped and writhed but he held you still with his massive hands running up and down your sides as he slowly pulled you down on his prick.

Slate was in complete heaven, he had never really known much pleasure of any kind, let alone the type that came with burying his cock in someone he was now completely obsessed with.

He had no idea his dick could be used for this at all, but now that he did he would certainly be doing this everyday, maybe even a couple times a day! The perfect blend of heat and softness was amazing.

As he began to thrust slowly, with a blissed out expression as he stared up at nothing with drool coming out of his mouth, you couldn’t help but moan in pleasure as his cock caressed your depths perfectly.

Hearing your breathy moans snapped him back to reality. You were finally happy again~

The treatment was working! That settled it, he would do this every single day no matter what!

Carefully gripping your sides a bit more firmly he moved your entire body back and forth on his cock. You couldn’t help it, your whole body twitched with the force of a massive orgasm. The sensation of your body spasming around his previously virgin dick caused him to slam in deep and cum hard.

He pulled you close, holding your head into his muscular chest as he panted, his dick still firmly impaling your limp body. You hadn’t been eating much and this serious fucking had taken a lot out of you.

Slate cleaned the two of you up, bathing you gently before taking advantage of your compliant state by spoon feeding you some dinner he had brought from a town person.

Mating with you made you so pleasured and too tired to resist him when he took care of you, he almost couldn’t wait until you had enough energy to do it again, his cock strained in his pants with anticipation.

[crimsonbubble]

Shadows Behind Metal

cw. nsfw, afab human!reader, wolf hybrid!minjoong, threesome, poly relationship, handcuffs, muzzles, biting, pet play (nicknames), costumes (bunny ears), masturbation, voyeurism, degradation, praise, oral, cum eating, implied cum play, overstimulation, double penetration, creampies, breeding kink, nipple play, tummy bulge, implied size kink, fingering *not proofread, just pure horny

[THIS IS ONE OF MY FAV FIC IDEA YET] HAPPY SPOOKY MONTH AND KINKTOBER FOLKS 🧡🖤

taglist (dm to be tagged); @sidusvenari @sugarnspice630 @ravenempress101 @autieofthevalley @linearities @wisejudgedragonhairdo @madiexuberant @mifuelarts @straytiny127 @yun-fangz @huen1ngk41 @juyeonshour @uniq-tastic @hongjng8 @miyaluvvsyou @everyonewooeverywhere @hongjoongtime117 @nopension

kinktober 2024 masterlist

They were starting to second-guess their agreement with your little idea, but they just adored the sparkle in your eyes and the little bounce in your step when you scampered off to get the items you needed.

They both grumbled and growled from behind the bars of the muzzles strapped to their faces. Mingi swallowed thickly, his eyes pleading as they roamed your figure. The pristine white bunny ear sat atop your head, one folded over as you tilted your head in faux innocence. You sat in your love seat, one leg crossed over the other, as you happily drank in the needy and yearning expressions on their faces.

“You’re having too much fun with this, cottontail.” Though Hongjoong has an unreadable expression painted on his face, his breathing is shaky and laboured. He’s swallowing a lot more than usual, trying to contain the amount of saliva that threatens to leak out of him as he all but smells your arousal. His dick is straining in his jeans, leaking in his boxers as he tries not to rut his hips for any bit of friction, unlike Mingi, who is having an increasingly hard time containing himself.

“It’s kind of fun seeing you two like this though,” Hongjoong grunted at your words. His ears twitched against his hair, his tail tucked under him to hide how it wanted to thump against the floor. Mingi’s tail, on the other hand, is moving a mile a minute, too lost in your scent to realize how hard his tail is thumping against the floor. Hongjoong drops his head with a groan, closing his eyes momentarily and praying that he doesn’t cum from just being played with like this.

Mingi shifts on his knees, the cold tiles offering little to no comfort. You cooed quietly as you watched them shift and rut into the air uselessly. You uncrossed your legs with a short whistle, laughing at how both of their heads snapped back to you. With the frilly skirt bunched up around your hips, they both got an eye full of your slicked cunt, all pretty and dripping just for them.

You gently trailed two fingers between your thighs, lewdly spreading your pussy open. Hongjoong let out a deep groan, his lips now swollen from how hard he had been biting at them. You leaned your head back, gingerly circling your fingers over your clit. You let out a soft string of moans, losing yourself in the feeling. You guide your hands lower, rubbing two fingers over your aching hole.

There’s a small snap before you hear a clank, and then you feel hands all over you. Your eyes shot open, widening in sheer arousal and a hint of fear. You notice the broken cuffs on the floor and the damned muzzles haphazardly thrown off to the side as you were manhandled on the couch. You peered up as Mingi’s hand tangled itself in your hair. Your eyes widened even more as his cock rubbed against your cheek. “You see what you did to me, princess? Now you’ll be the one to take care of it. Open your mouth.”

Mingi groaned as he laid his tip against your warm tongue. Letting you swirl the wet muscle across his leaking tip. Hongjoong grabbed your hips, greedily ripping the skirt right off of you. A deep growl resonated in his chest as he pushed your head down onto Mingi’s cock, enjoying the way you gagged and drooled around him. “Make a mess out of our pretty bunny, yeah?” Mingi hummed, fucking your mouth. Hongjoong tapped your drooling pussy with his cock, letting his tip breach your hole briefly before pulling out and grinding his length through your folds.

His tip bumped against your sensitive clit, making you jolt. “Such a needy little cunt, just waiting to be stuffed full of cock and cum, huh cotton?” Hongjoong listened intently as you choked around Mingi’s cock, taking your wrists and using them as leverage to drag your heated body onto his pulsing cock. “You wanted cock, I’ll fucking give it to you.” You whimpered around Mingi’s cock, looking up at him with glassy eyes. “God, you’re such a fucking slut. Crying and gagging on my fucking cock.” You moaned around his length, your pussy clenching tightly around Hongjoong. With no way to steady yourself, Mingi continuously gagged you on his cock, hitting the back of your throat with no effort.

Hongjoong’s pace was brutal, in and out with no reprieve. He bullies his thick cock into your warm cunt with heavy thrusts, moans leaving his lips in low huffs. Mingi winces when your teeth scrape along his cock, pulling out of your mouth. He wrapped a hand around himself, slapping his tip on your cheeks and lips, smearing precum all over your flushed face. “Watch the teeth.” He didn’t even give you a moment to show that you heard him, simply pushing his cock past your lips as drool spilt from the corners of your lips.

Hongjoong is shamelessly rutting into your sore cunt, nearly slipping out a few times as your pussy gushed around him. Hongjoong pins your wrists to your back, freeing up a hand to reach around you and rub your clit. The action made you jump, your body shuddering. Hongjoong bumped you through an orgasm. You couldn’t go anywhere, stuck between your boyfriends as they all but used you for your pleasure. The onslaught of pleasure made you dizzy, as if having Mingi shove his cock down your throat wasn’t already dizzying enough.

Mingi’s hips faltered as he pulled out of your mouth, pumping himself quickly. You let your tongue peek out of your mouth, looking up at him with pretty eyes. Mingi cursed, tilting your head back as he finished himself off in your mouth. You kept your eyes on him as you swallowed his load, licking your lips of the sticky mess. That’s when you finally take in the fact that Mingi was still hard, his cock throbbing and leaking against his palm. Your moans fall freely from your lips, your thighs shaking as Hongjoong harshly rubbed over your clit in time with his punishing hips.

You pushed back against him, feeling your eyes cross as he abused your sweet spot. Your body is vibrating and your mind is mush as Hongjoong sends you crashing into another orgasm. As soon as your sore cunt tightened around his cock, he let go of your wrists. Taking hold of your hips and fucking into you desperately. He’s merely chasing his release now, brushing against your sweet spot with every rut of his hips. Your upper body fell limp against the couch, peering at him over your shoulder. You can see the quick whips of his tail from behind him, watching how his eyes hardened as he watched you fuck yourself back onto him.

Hongjoong pressed hard into your back, forcing you to arch your back as he hounded after his release. His pace grows uneven, his cock pulsing. His nails dig into your hips as he buries himself to the hilt, painting your gummy walls with his seed. Hongjoong’s voice is hoarse when he tells Mingi to lie down. He flips you over, letting you fall back onto Mingi’s chest. He immediately has his hands on your hips, holding them as he easily fills your cunt. Hongjoong grabs your thighs, holding them open as he pushes in alongside Mingi.

“Such a good bunny, our good girl.” Mingi’s voice bounced around in your head as he thrust up into you. “A pretty cock whore, just for us.” You can’t stop the whines that leave your lips as Hongjoong starts moving too. The squelching of your cunt is embarrassing, almost pathetic, as you were fucked and used. Your eyes focus on Hongjoong, whimpering as you recognize the hungry look in his eyes. “Fuck, look at you. You probably wanted this from the beginning, didn’t you? To get stuffed like the cock slut you are, right?” His stare is making your pussy clench, squeezing tight around the thick cocks, splitting you open. Hongjoong groaned as his eyes flickered down your chest, eyeing the way your tits bounced with every thrust you received.

Your eyes followed his, taking matters into your unoccupied hands. You cupped, groped, and squeezed your tits, pinching and tugging your nipples just like Mingi usually does. Hongjoong curses under his breath, his tail thumping against his hip. He quickly slapped your hands away, leaning down to latch onto your pert bud. The new angle had Mingi pressing insistently against your sweet spot, damn near kissing your cervix if he decided to go any deeper. Hongjoong grabbed one of your hands, pressing it to your lower abdomen. He pulled away from your chest, pressing a messy kiss to your puffy nipples.

He pressed down against your fingertips, his cock twitching within your silken walls. Your pussy throbbed with need as you felt over the now obvious bulge in your stomach. Hongjoong gathered your arousal on his thumb, harshly rubbing over your clit as your cunt spasmed. “Slutty bunny just needed their cunt stuffed, huh? Look at you, all docile and pretty.” Mingi groaned under you, his nails digging into your skin next to where Hongjoong’s marks were. Both of their paces quickened, growing unsteady as the need to stuff you full of their cum only increased.

Hongjoong rubbed your clit in tight circles, trying to knock you over the edge before they fell. That wish fell through as both of them buried themselves to the hilt, pressing impossibly close to your cervix as you felt warmth flood through you. Your back arches off of Mingi’s chest as you cum, feeling your heartbeat throb in your ears. Hongjoong was the first to pull out, hungrily stroking himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Mingi lifted your hips off him, feeling the cum leak out of your used cunt.

You lay limp against Mingi’s chest, smiling tiredly as he peppered kisses along your shoulder and neck. However, Hongjoong has a different idea. He slips his fingers into your pulsing cunt, smirking as you jolt, reaching down to clutch his wrist. “Just one more bunny; I wanna make you cum again.”

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

You are the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; when a mix of common folk and soldiers drag you from your bed you are already resigned to whatever fate they have chosen for you. You are dragged out in your sheer silk nightwear and forced to your knees in the mud of the main road. Glancing up you see the figures opposite, the enemy, the great hulking orcs your husband angered. Above you, you hear frantic talking - frantic, useless. None of you speak their tongue.

Finally, in desperation, you crawl forward and bow your head, pulling your hair aside to bare your neck. Surely that cannot be misunderstood. You are willing to give your life for peace. The townspeople are hardly going to let you live either way.

(You are the chieftain of an orc clan reluctantly drawn into this skirmish as a matter of honour, and when the humans drag out a small, helpless one of their own and offer it you hesitate. It is dressed in silk and wears jewels at its neck and throat, which means it is important. As grotesque as the practice is to you, your sense of pride, you know they often exchange hostages between themselves. You glance at your second, who visibly rolls her eyes but nods. Any excuse to go home.)

The orcs do not kill you there and then, but take you; you cannot tell yet if that is a mercy or a misfortune. You are bound at the wrists and ankles and flung over an orc soldier's shoulder like a sack of grain, and passed between many of them during the journey. In their own language they joke and laugh as they pass you over, sometimes pinching at the bare skin of your thigh where your clothes have hitched up.

At their camp you are deposited in the tent of the chieftain. You have heard rumours of what they do with captives, and between being ravaged until broken or eaten alive you do not know what to hope for. You merely lie there, limp and trembling slightly, until you hear the sound of someone entering. The hulking orc chieftain looks at you, tusked face unreadable, then drags you upright by a fistful of your hair to briefly press a flask to your lips. When you have gulped nearly all the water he drops you, grunts and leaves. He does not return to the tent the entire night. You know this, because the low buzzing terror in the back of your mind doesn't let you sleep.

(You hardly know what to do with the little thing. Your comrades say it is easy to carry but odd, it is full grown by the look of it but doesn't struggle at all or even try to bargain in its babbling little language. Maybe it is unwell. You order it placed in your tent and give it water yourself, but it shows no more signs of life, dull-eyed and staring at nothing. You decide to let it sleep and go back outside to drink until you pass out under the stars and the warm summer skies.)

On the second night you are taken to a river before camp, and following the example of those around you, you wash yourself; as you return to the riverbank you find your clothes gone. The orcs watch you, even the smallest of them half-again your size. You swallow your fear and walk naked back to the chieftain's tent. Once there you lower yourself to your hands and knees on the bedroll, bare skin still damp from the water. You cannot stop him from taking you, but perhaps it will hurt less or be over faster if you comply.

The orcs chieftain makes a brief, almost hissing sound at the sight of you, but does not leave this time. Their hand brushes across your back and you can feel their claws retracting. They touch and inspect you like a prize hound and you keep your eyes to the ground, tears of shame welling up. Then he presses two large, blunt fingers inside you, and you brace yourself. He fingerfucks you lazily for a minute or so before suddenly growling something you don't understand and turning you on your back, so you scramble to reposition yourself and hold your legs wide. He cradles your face in both his hands as he slowly sinks his swollen cock into you, larger than you think you could ever take and stretching you painfully yet unable to look away from his face. Your husband used to force you to look at him like this only when he wanted to watch you cry, so you brace yourself for the firm hold to turn into hard slaps that leave your ears ringing.

(The little thing washes with the others and you are approaching the tent with an armful of fabric in what you hope is close to their size when you are hit with the unexpected sight of them uncovered in your tent, positioned as any orc begging to be bred would be. You have to smother a gasp and restrain yourself; it has been too long, and little thing's fragile shape and delicate features are somehow all the more appealing for their strangeness. But you were raised well, taught that all parties must agree before partners bed each other; you don't know their tongue to ask them. You seek permission from their body language instead, first touching their back, the curve of their ass and leg, then with tentative fingers in their soft tight little hole. They do not flinch or try to flee, and they wetten for your fingers. Surely you can continue? Forgetting yourself you ask out loud.)

You wait to be hit. It doesn't happen. You wait to used rough and hurt inside; it doesn't happen either.

The looming figure of the great orc warrior above you moves with an almost incongruous care, pressing into you slowly and then simply resting there until your body becomes accustomed enough to his huge cock that he can start to move without tearing you. It's almost as if his gaze on your face is tracking the small hitched breaths or softening of your expression to know when he can begin to carefully thrust. Yet that makes no sense to you. Men have never used you so gentle, why would a savage orc do so?

He is big enough it does hurt some little but that sensation is soon overwhelmed by another, unfamiliar and disorienting; a low heat building your abdomen, a curl of pleasure that makes you whimper. Another growl comes in response, so you try to quieten, but his expression - it is so hard to read, so different, but he does not look angry.

(You are confused and troubled, but the tight heat of the little thing is so perfect around your cock. They are acting like a new prospective mate, taking your body like a mate would, but when you watch their face to try and find the answers you'd normally seek out loud there is something missing. You fuck them very gently, as such delicate pretty things should be treated, and forget yourself enough to apologise out loud when they whimper. You promise them in words they don't know that you want to make them feel good, you will stop if they struggle even once, that they are safe with you.)

The orc chief finishes with a single deep thrust and you can feel your abdomen swell with how filled you are, a little of their cum already beginning to leak down your thighs. He pulls away and you instinctively curl in on yourself, protective - the sound he makes in response is urgent but more distressed than angry. He paws at you to uncurl, look at him again; as you tilt your face up and force your body to relax he huffs and lowers his great head between your legs. Before you can even process it his rough tongue is on you, and you can feel the smooth dangerous weight of his tusks against your inner thighs. The rush of banked pleasure is equally unexpected, as he coaxes a climax from you that leaves you shaking. Afterward you are gathered up like a doll in his arms, and for the first time in three days actually believe you may be safe. Very, very, tentatively, you reach for his face and pause halfway in question.

(The little thing flinches only afterwards, but it does flinch and you immediately fight back a rush of guilt and worry. Rank be damned, the clan will not stand for taking any person unwilling, even a human one. You try to comfort them with small touches, check their face for signs of what's wrong. They are unreadable. You check between their legs and can tell they did not quite find pleasure yet, so quickly duck your head to correct it. Perhaps that is what was wrong, because when their body responds they do not flinch away from being held close. They even reach for your face, and after you nod encouragingly they trace their tiny fingers over the ridges of your skin and kiss nervously at the smooth curve of your tusk. You thrill, but say nothing; maybe they have no idea what an intimate gesture that is. You just happily nestle close.)

You were the young, newly-widowed spouse of the foolish and disliked noble who started this devastating war at the border; now, it seems, you are claimed by the warrior chief who bested him and the bedmate of a mighty orc who is gentler with you than said husband ever was and - slightly endearingly - buries his face in the crook of your neck with a low rumbling sound not unlike a purr when sleepy and post-coital.

.

[jpitha]

The Oxygen Breathers

I thought I posted this one here, but it looks like I didn’t, so here you go!

It was always an event when the Humans visited.

They'd arrive in their sleek, smooth, thick ships; completely at odds with the other ships of the Coalition. Human ships always looked like they were grown rather than built. People would whisper how the Humans made their ships as tough as they were. How human ships could go atmospheric and land on the ground.

It was nonsense of course, no ship - human or otherwise - could do that. Kre'kk figured that the Humans probably spread that rumor themselves.

After they'd arrive, they would come out of the docking umbilical in their small, highly polished suits. They were a rare class of sapient indeed.

The Oxygen Breathers.

Most 'civilized' people in the Coalition came from worlds with manganese sulfur atmospheres. The humans with their oxidizer for a breathing gas were seen as brash, reckless folks who make decisions without proper consideration. Given the reactive nature of their atmosphere, it's practically a given that they too are more reactive in their choices.

Kre'kk stands at attention at the end of the umbilical ready to welcome the humans for their - hopefully - short visit. They come from a high gravity world with a single massive moon - fully a quarter of the size of their own planet itself - so their environmental defaults are... somewhat extreme compared to the rest of the Coalition. The never fail to mention the moon.

As they approached, they reach one half unit away from Kre'kk and stop. He looked down at them - they were about half his height - and he made the Universal Gesture of welcome. The humans reciprocate and Kre'kk’s head frill rustles.

"Welcome to Coalition Orbital 43559 - known to the Lemilar as 'Habilamen.' I am Administrator Kre'kk and I welcome you as equals for you visit."

The human at the head of the group is wearing a slightly different suit. Still polished and reflective, but where the rest of the humans are wearing suits of pitch black - darker than interstellar space - this one is a deep vermillion red. Kre'kk is drawn to the color. It's so rich! It almost looks wet.

When they begin to speak, a simplified icon of a human face is projected onto the smooth polished surface of the helmet. It seems that the humans have taken some care to make themselves look less frightening in their environmental suits. "Thank you for the greeting, Administrator Kre'kk. I am Captain Margaret Kellerman and this is my crew." She gestures behind her. "We plan on staying only for three cycles demi in order to take on a load of Ribanium and trade with any interested parties. I will share with you a manifest of what we have available to trade." She gestures on her arm, and the file appears on Kre'kk's pad.

Kre'kk is taken aback at her voice. It's so clear. She seems to be speaking through a translator, but it is getting the nuance and overtones of the Lemilar Trade Language perfectly. She could have a career as an entertainer or storyteller easily if she was a difference species. Kre’kk swallows. "Uh, thank you Captain, I have received your file and will distribute it. Please make use of our facilities during your stay."

Captain Kellerman's helmet flashed a icon of a face, smiling - without their teeth - broadly. "Thank you Administrator Kre'kk, we shall."

For two cycles, Kre'kk held out hope that the human's visit would be without incident. They came in quietly, did some minor trading, loaded their Ribanium and spent a… reasonable amount of money on entertainment and refreshments - suitable for their systems - while on board. Kre'kk felt they were trying very hard to be model visitors. Apparently they knew humans had a reputation in the Coalition for being... rowdy.

On the last demi cycle before the Humans were scheduled to depart a group of Felimen came over, angry. They had spent the entire two cycles previous loudly complaining that the humans shouldn't be here, and that they had captured Felimen colonies long ago and had begun the process of 'poisoning them' to be more suitable to them. The Human authorities maintain - and have the receipts to prove - that they purchased the planets legally from the Felimen, and never attempted to hide their goals of colonization and geoengineering. Regardless, a long, bloody war had followed and the humans had pushed the Felimen to capitulate and were currently engaged in a Cold War with each other.

Kre'kk was alerted as soon as the shouts started. The Felimen seemed to come to the humans wanting to cause trouble. For their part, the humans tried their best to talk the Felimen down. Their helmet icons were looking sad and quiet and they gestured in ways to try and reduce tension. The Felimen were having none of it though.

As Kre'kk undulated over to try and calm them, one of the Felimen in the back had wheeled out a battle rifle. Kre'kk had no idea how they had snuck it in, but it was completely banned on the Orbital and was cause for immediate expulsion. Before he could sound the alarm and get the Orbital authorities to come, they fired at the group of humans.

It proved to be a fatal error in judgement.

One of the humans in the front of the group was struck directly in their center of mass. They staggered back, and their suit showed significant damage. Luckily for them the suit was not penitrated. The humans reputation for building strong was well earned apparently.

Faster than Kre'kk could follow and only confirmed by viewing the security footage after the fact, three of the humans brought massive slug throwers to bear. Kre’kk knew that the Coalition sapient races find chemical powered metal slug throwers to be far too heavy to be hand weapons. If they are used, they're tripod or vehicle mounted. The humans are apparently experts in their manufacture and use, and can swing them around like they weigh nothing.

The noise of the slug throwers in the hall was deafening. Kre'kk winced as his active noise cancellation dampened the noise and wondered how the humans could take the noise without being injured, but he assumed they must also have some kind of noise cancelling built into their environmental suits.

They fired for a short time indeed, but it was more than enough. All of the Felimen were dead, with the ones in the front unrecognizable. The silence in the hall after they finished firing weighed heavy. It felt like an eternity after they had stopped before the station alarms sounded.

Kre'kk moved over to the humans. They were checking eachothers suits and cleaning up the small yellow colored pieces of metal that come flying out of their throwers when they fire. "Brass" is what they call it. Kre'kk gestured an apology. "I'm sorry. Battle weapons are banned here. You're going to have to leave now."

Captain Kellerman's icon showed pure fury. Her gauntlet covered hand pointed at him accusingly. "You're going to take their side, Administrator? You were here, you saw them. They shot first! They damaged the suit of one of my crew! It was through the luck of Forturne herself that his suit was not pierced!”

Kre'kk slid back one half unit unconsciously. "Be that as it may, you responded with… disproportionate force to their attack. It was uncalled for."

Captain Kellerman sputtered, her melodic voice taking on frightening undertones as the translator worked overtime to relay her fury to Kre'kk. "Uncalled for!? Administrator Kre'kk with all due respect you are out of line. You know about the war I assume, but do you know what they did to our colonies? They dropped nanobombs on our legally purchased colonies. They weren't trying to take back land, they were trying to obliterate us. I was there, I saw it with my own eyes."

Kre'kk was taken aback. This was not part of the standard narrative about the war. "I did not know that no, the Felimen-"

"The Felimen tell their own version of the war in order to garner support and sympathy against 'the aggressor human' I'm sure." Captain Kellerman sounded bitter in the translated voice. "Kre'kk. Your people border the Felimen opposite us do you not?"

"Yes, our territory borders theirs but-"

"And have you by any chance heard of some border worlds coming under some kind of unknown trouble? Maybe a strange illness, or unusually strong weather on the worlds?"

Kre'kk's frill rippled worriedly and he said nothing. He had heard about things like that.

Captain Kellerman cleared her helmet. Suddenly, Kre'kk saw her clearly. Small, with bilateral symmetry, close set binocular eyes and a small mouth, this was the first time Kre'kk saw a human as they are, not as their icons show them. They are predators. They are hunters.

They are terrifying.

Kre'kk unconsciously made a gesture of fear and slid back another half unit. Captain Kellerman's face contorted into a snarl. "Know this Kre'kk. It's only a matter of time before they do to you what they attempted - and failed - to do to us. Think hard about who your friends are and who in the Coalition you can come to for help when they start dropping nanobombs on your worlds." Just as suddenly as it had cleared, her helmet darkened again, and the cartoon icon of her face returned. It felt like a mockery to Kre'kk now.

The humans picked up the rest of their debris and freed their weapons. Faster than Kre'kk could ripple, they were all carrying slug throwers. "We're leaving, Administrator Kre'kk. If any Felimen even come within 5 units of us-" The people behind her cycled a round into their rifles for emphasis "-we will take it as a provocation and will respond with 'disproportionate' force."

"Y-yes Captain. I will relay this information."

"Oh and Administrator Kre'kk? Your Station will be added to the list of Orbitals where humans will not go. We will do no trading, sell no wares, and offer no defense. You and yours will do well to consider your stance vis-a-vis us and the Felimen."

Without another word, the group of humans turned and marched towards their ship. Shaking, Kre'kk signaled that they were not to be interrupted and made sure their warning about Felimen was relayed.

After they left and the mess was cleaned up, Kre'kk sat in his quarters and stared out the window at the planet below a long time. One of his creche mates was living on a newly founded colony bordering Felimen space. He began composing a message to beam to her asking if she had any plans about moving back.