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Messages - Lion
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81
« on: June 23, 2018, 03:44:59 pm »
“What a super weird and shit dream that was,” Grisham mused to himself. Except he knew the aching in his head wasn’t because of a long restless sleep. No Pilot wanted to be carted to the Axis Point, get mindfucked without so much as a “how d’ya do,” beforehand. Granted the nap before that was sorely needed and what little he could remember was only vague glimpses before leaving from Cancer Station.
His friend was there. The big burly dude with a lot of tattoos. He remembered punching his face in and the faces of a lot of other assholes in that fighting pit. That’s where the rest of his hair went too, now that he thought about it.
When his hand reached up and rubbed at the shaved head, a frown curled in the corner of his mouth, grunt following where his temples still throbbed. Grisham blinked hard, scrunching his eyelids tightly. His head was still foggy and his vision was a little fuzzy around the dges but goddammit he just wanted to be on his way home already. The long absence from any sense of comfort ebbed it’s way into the meager excuse he called sanity and ate away at it like a brain parasite.
He’d been checked out for medical and cleared. Now only if the rail to Amristah was not dead set on taking another year to come into station before he turned 41. That would be great. All of his instincts might have pointed more north if things had been different. They might have directed him to Adstreia where he still lived technically speaking, still worked, still had people he cared about there.
Grisham had been a lot of places. Made a shelter where he could find an excuse to do so. He had a lot of places he belonged, but only one home. Somehow in the last year and or so Amristah had become it. The destination where he could lay his head down against a strong chest and a beating heart, feel embraced in a comfort he didn’t even know he missed until he’d gone without it.
The feeling like he’d been in trapped in a void, had lost time, been stuck while everything else advanced around him, made him stagnant - frozen in a cryochamber and waiting to be brought back to life once more. Grisham blinked and just when he thought his restlessness was going to make him change cars again, he heard the sound of the rail finally coming to a halt and the vague lurch as it into station. The hiss and opening of the doors as he meandered out, feeling drunk, the dizziness swirling his vision until the blearing led lights flashed the directions back home, back to the apartment.
He checked his wrist, he still had the code for it. One beep of his wrist and he could flop on that couch and go to sleep. Did he really want to sleep again? Not really, but the ache in his body, the sensation of real gravity was something to get used to and feeling connected to his dragon again soothed him enough to relax. That he was home now and he could rest at last. A week at most and then it would be back to work. He missed his marbles, his friends, his squad, his yote.
Yote… Grisham had poked into chat and to say that his stomach didn’t flip when he saw Yavul’s name appear across the screen of the Pilot Chat was like saying he could breath underwater. Grisham’s gut lurched hard and he raised a hand up cover his mouth, trying to fight back the tears that were welling up when he was walking back, ignoring the gasps and sounds of people who recognized him on the street. He was almost home Yote Man.
“I’m coming home to you. I’ll be at the apartment,” he texted back on his returned com, the familiar feel of cold metal and glass over hands that had been roughened and cleansed time and again from blood in that awful pit. The fear of never coming home again had been real, and even just being thankful of having someone to come home to, while enough, didn’t really set in until now. To think that just a year ago, he would have been content to go out in a fiery blast and called that a sound end. And how easily it could have been if not for the ‘kindness’ of strangers. Kindness that had went as far as someone else selling him into a Pit fighting ring and Grisham would have stayed there if he hadn’t gotten lucky. Goddamn was that luck.
Like a drone, oblivious to the outside world, Grisham blinked and he was in front of his door, taking in a deep breath and waved his wrist in front of the lock. Once it beeped, he reached for that door knob…and paused. His eyes scowled down at his hand, the way it trembled with his fingers outstretched. The fear still lingered, of losing everything he’d fought so hard to come back to and his breath hitched. Funny he didn’t remember his eye balls growing hot, and the sensation of a tear slipping down his warm cheek startled him. Grisham swallowed down the hard lump in his throat forcing his hand to reach for that knob and push the door open, closing it quietly behind him.
He dropped his bag by the door and stepped softly onto that familiar hardwood flooring. The tear disappeared into his beard and he removed his jacket it, throwing it on the hook next to the door and dove for the couch, hugging that pillow tucked in the corner of it and took in a deep breath, his gut flipping at the smell of minerals and earth and Yavul, another tear rolling down his cheek.
82
« on: June 18, 2018, 04:18:13 pm »
Prologue+ NAME + Dunobu Sage + ALIAS + Kincaide + AGE + 5000+ give or take a few decades + GENDER + Male + ORIGIN + Old Earth + SPECIES + Maako Demon / Nephilim + RESIDENCE + His space ship 8D And wherever + OCCUPATION + Botanist + FACE + Dark Blue Hair / Lavender Eyes + STATURE + 6’2” / 200 lbs. + SEXUALITY + Whatever is convenient __________________IN-DEPTHPHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONAverage height with a muscular build and doesn’t do much more to care for his body than the average person. Kincaide looks average by any other means, a flesh and blood human, moderately tanned skin, blue hair that’s long on top and shaved along one side and usually pushed back or in a ponytail. He would look average were it not for a vaguely primal look in his eyes, a reddish sclera surrounding a lavender iris and a row of teeth that clamp together at the center of his belly. Kincaide is a wild thing, preternatural, and he has some of the blue veinings from his mother and scars along his back where wings once sprouted, from his father. They’ve since been sliced off after having been removed from his back, and he still bears the scars sprawling along his shoulder blades. He has a wide nose, a somewhat shallow bridge and medium sized lips, usually sporting a blanket of facial hair, scruffy and thick, and he can’t be bothered to shave it off. It’s upkeep he doesn’t have time for. The row of interlocking teeth along his abdomen keep closed the mouth that resides underneath them and they may move at will and pull anything inside. It isn’t so much connected to his stomach as it is a portal to another dimension, one you’re probably better off not asking about. An moving eye tattoo on his shoulder resides there that can shift anywhere along his body and serve as a “eyes behind his head” sort of deal, usually making it more difficult to catch him by surprise. When he’s not human, Kincaide can change into a large wolfish bear cat type beast, shifting sometimes when he’s a little bit too moody. He’s approximately 10 feet long from nose to tail with a hulking torso, broad shoulders with a thick hide and portions of his shoulder blades actually protruding through the skin, where the portions of his hide have healed around it. His paws are cat like, broad and wide and with the claws retractable and a long prehensile jaguar-like tail. His face is much more canid-like with a long muzzle and wolfish eyes, large pointed ears and lots of fur around his neck. Down to his haunches, his legs are generally lean with portions of bone sticking out from his spine, ridge-like and stopping before his tail begins. Voice Claim: Jason StathamPERSONA“Life is liquid when we are young. We paint with the colors of the sun. Time solidifies in our brains until with paint with shades of gray.”Kincaide is as charming a bastard as a bag of stale cheesy puffs. Of course coupled that with freshly grown dandylion oil and a few drinks, and they can be tasteful too. He’s rough around the edges, tending to lean towards gruff speech, blunt and to the point on most occasions. He doesn’t have any innate need to socialize but he’ll deal with people if he has to, keeping business short and sweet and good times when he needs them. He’s a tumbleweed at heart, a lone wanderer going wherever the solar winds take him, living on his ship. Kincaide doesn’t tend to do right for right’s sake, but he will fully take things to his own advantage as he sees fit. He wagers deals on how it would best benefit him, and gauges the potential amount of collateral damage or benefit from what deals he makes. People tend to get what’s coming to them, whether they know it or not. Spiteful as all hell. Tell him not to do something and that’s exactly what he’ll do. The man that used to be known by Dunobu, used to be more pleasant. Used to have all sorts of ideals. But that Dunobu died when the earth did. - Things! -- Never bring this man to an All You Can Eat Buffet. He will clear house. |8
- Tends to down about a gallon of booze before he’s at all ready to talk to anyone that day. He’s probably had his liver replaced several times now.
MAGIC/ABILITIESBOTANY - Kincaide has made it his personal mission and business to collect, catalogue, and care for rare plants. He has a small pocket dimension where he works, where all his plants are kept in the proper temperatures and environments. He crossbreeds them and as their Keeper, ensures their utmost happiness. He’s scrounged the galaxy and pocket universes at large to find rare flora and their responses to all kinds of conditions. From fiery volcanic planets, to black market deals with cutthroat criminal syndicates, he works tirelessly and will remove anyone in his way. Perhaps in some vain hope that his work might help rebuild a new home. NEPHILIM - The child of a union between a demon and an angel (and in this case his mama already was one), Kincaide always knew he was born different. In addition to giving him the ability to alter into a beasty-thing, Dunobu can teleport vast or short distances depending on sigils left behind. The longer the distance the more it wears on him, but if a small part of his himself is left behind (usually a small spot of blood that he’s painted into something) he can teleport back to that location. He keeps his laboratory in a small pendant he keeps wrapped around his wrist, a glass capsule that has a small eldritch symble painted on a piece of paper inside, along with some herbs inside. RELATIONSHIPSFeyriel Deyros - Son, alive - Donubo had to leave him behind when he left Aedolis, and although he’s come back from time to time, he’s never interfered in his son’s life. He looks out for him where he can, and leaves him small gifts anonymously on his birthday. Maako - Father, deceased Sara Sage - Mother, Deceased Beryl - Grandmother, Unknown - She a bitch. HISTORYOnce had a loving home on Earth, grew up and was taken by his grandmother when he was a young adult. Had his wings ripped off and tried to evade her ever since. He’s wandered ever since, making his home wherever it seemed most convenient at the time and has been all across the galaxy, spent time as a pirate, a mercenary, tried to help those that couldn’t help themselves, used to be idealistic on how beautiful life could be. Some parts of him still feel this way, that somewhere there’s a vague glimpse of hope to be had somewhere out in the stars. EpilogueTHREADS
83
« on: June 15, 2018, 03:43:56 pm »
Done by me Prologue+ NAME + MDK - 101 + ALIAS + “Proteus”, “PegoMan 5000”, “Bruce” as his phone sex line name, “Maximov” as his online handle + AGE + Manufactured dated around 20 years ago. Mentally, mid-30’s. + GENDER + Male by vocal designation + ORIGIN + Imogen Innovations, Aedolis + SPECIES + Limited Edition Combat Droid + RESIDENCE + Home, Home on the Rails. + OCCUPATION + Part-time Mercenary / Bodyguard, Phone Sex Operator, and one-time underwear model + FACE + Cerulean Blue Glowy eyes / Hair - N/A + STATURE + 6’10” / 3580 lbs. + SEXUALITY + If it’s Gouda for you, it’s Gouda for Me. But not actual cheese.” __________________IN-DEPTHPHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONBuilt as an expensive battle droid - the first successful prototype - designed for intense combat and infiltration. The cubes that combine together are small enough to thread together and form sinew-like muscles attached to the a central reactor core inside Proteus’ chest, locked into a droid chassis. Fully armored up, Proteus stands at approximately 6’10” with spaces in his armor for upgrades and mod attachments to further augment his killing ability. He’s come a long way from his initial manufacturer production line, still maintaining parts of his armor pieces with it’s scoring and the old battalion insignia on the outside of his armor right under his model number. Most of his coloration has faded a little over the last 20 years, with a gunmetal gray base coat, and slate blue armor chest plate and accents, and black frame mod ports along his arms. His helmet has a bulletproof visor that retracts into the frame around his head, which can also be further be detached and fixed with something else. The cubes underneath the armor pieces are small enough in size to appear seamless, feeling smooth for the most part and partly ridged where they twist into his frame. The armor itself is utilitarian in nature without a lot of extra pieces to catch on and drag. The greaves go over his ‘muscles’, clamping onto portions of the frame around his thighs, shinguards built in just underneath the knee, and the sections of his feet split off into separate ‘toes’ for better balance. He tends to move very quietly for such a heavy machine, by virtue of his design. His effectiveness in combat made him a highly sought after model, but the expense kept him largely exclusive. Voice Claim: Idris ElbaPERSONA “Are you aware of your meatbag status?”Casually blunt and thoroughly self-aware, Proteus is a misanthropic troll of an automaton, making light the general sufferings of others purely because it amuses him, generally with dark caustic humor. In fact, Proteus rarely does anything the doesn’t amuse him. If a modicum of entertainment could be gained from it, he’ll do it. He has no real empathy for others (meatbags in particular), not because he’s incapable of it but the choice is his to employ it and the wasted effort rarely is worth his time. He tends to find most interpersonal interactions annoying and likes to poke fun where he can. His worries are few, and his confidence is aplenty, but is less inclined to prove his casual superiority. Those he chooses to spend his time with tend to have a quality he enjoys or finds intriguing, and they generally are a select few. Being generally unimpressed, makes him bored and he moves along to the next more interesting thing. Wandering in general public between domes has only slightly curbed Proteus’ murderous personality, and some days he muses about the old times of carving scores of Edanis to pieces with a few emp grenades and hollow points. Ah, those were good days. - Things! -- Likes honey, bees, and casually gardens in Margad because of how important bees are in general. Finds the concept of how something so small can have such an impressive impact to be particularly fascinating.
- Dislikes Pegos with a heated passion. He’s reduced the small plastic blocks to a melted puddle with his plasma canon by the crateful on more than one occasion.
- Loves to mess with all kinds of mods, both with weapons and his armor pieces, and it’s a nice way to pass the time.
- Always places adds on Dragonslist for bodyguard or mercenary work for what he’d say are fairly competitive rates. In between that, he moonlights on a phone sex operator. Because he can make his own hours, tap right into the call from anywhere, and the pay isn’t half bad.
MAGIC/ABILITIESMDK Model 101 - Inspired by the trashed construct of alien tech, the use of small variable cubes that can alter shape and density fused via it’s core to a robotic chassis. Although an expensive model (no doubt from the use of experimental technology), MDKs (Murder - Death - Killer) were programmed to be effective killers. Coupled with advanced AIs, MDKs were designed with adaptive programming to understand varying degrees of combat situations from anything ranging from hand to hand to assassinations, etc. They possess Tactical Precision Arrays, room for weapons modifications, and anti-corrosive shielding on their plated armor. Proteus himself was usually sent ahead of his squadron to clear out a room of enemies prior to their advance since he could take more damage without the risk of extensive casualties. Physically, MDKs are heavy and designed to take a beating, with exceptional reflexes and elemental resistances, waterproof, shock resistant. While he’s skilled in a large array of weapon types, if left without, he still has plasma canons in his wrists, charged from residual energy from his reactor core (which has shielding that slides down to protect it when not in combat). And if he’s to be believed, it’s down right sexy. “It’s all in the aerodynamics.” RELATIONSHIPSLieutenant Dylan Eidelweiss - 55, Deceased - His last commanding officer in the Edani War. The last and only meatbag he’s ever genuinely respected. HISTORYThe first successful unit of a handful of limited edition combat droids designed by Imogen Innovations in the waning years of the Edani War. Taken from alien technology, they managed to replicate the reactor core technology that allowed the creation of his droid type. The expense of making him left him very rare, ultimately purchased for use by the commanding officer of the 47th Infantry Commando Squadron - “Hellbenders” - used mainly for infiltration and ‘meat grinder’ combat. Dubbed Proteus by his commander, he proved effective and was shipped back home once the war was over. Unfortunately his commander never made it back and was considered KIA, leaving Proteus to his own devices, declared independent and a free operator. He’s spend the last two decades a somewhat decorated veteran, although he doesn’t consider himself such, dabbling in various jobs mainly for publicity and fun. For now, though, he’s a meandering transient, taking odd jobs for the pay and going wherever he pleases. And although there is some itch to his trigger finger, he does his best to keep it down. EpilogueTHREADS
84
« on: June 12, 2018, 07:44:49 pm »
 Done by me Donatello Alessi Irugari + ALIAS + “Hadrian”, “Crowe” + AGE + Unknown + GENDER + Male + ORIGIN + Libra Station + SPECIES + Some kinda human meat bag + RESIDENCE + Libra Station + OCCUPATION + Smuggler / Conman / Enforcer + FACE + Ruddy Brown Hair / Blue Eyes + STATURE + 6’1” / lbs. + SEXUALITY + Unknown __________________IN-DEPTHPHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONHe’s tall and well-built, muscular to aid in his work; and it helps to look a little intimidating as well. Hadrian’s hair is shaved along the sides of his head, and around the back, and pushed back out of his face, usually oiled back. He rarely has time to shave, so he usually has stubble growing on his face. He’s fairly handsome, with tanned skin, and rugged features, eyes somber, and a bright blue. Has a scar along his neck and several piercings along his ear as well as well trimmed facial hair. One lone braid hangs from his head just beside his ear along with an implant node along the side of his neck. Although he appears moderately young, he’s long since lost track of how old he really is. As long as he’s able to move fast and powerfully, that’s all that matters to him. Usually wears utilitarian clothing, not one for showy outfits or gaudy jewelry. Dressing mundane means you’re less likely to stand out from the crowd, meaning you’re less likely to be noticed by the authorities, and less likely to be caught, in his book. Voice Claim: Michael Jai White PERSONA Some kinda quote goes here Has more street smarts than book smarts, but enough of them to get around and make a living. Crowe is a loyal man that puts business before pleasure and knows how to get the job done. He doesn’t say more than he has to, nor less to keep a con going at any given time. He’s not overly charming, speaks his mind when he feels it’s prudent to do so, but for the most part keeps to himself. Crowe spends very little time not working, and he’s very good at enforcing his boss’s rules and answering the questions others have for him. Sometimes people get confused, try to take more than their given. And sometimes those people meet Crowe to put them back in their place. - Things! -- Doodles in his spare time. Nothing very intricate but mainly quick diagrams and abstract doodles done on napkins he sometimes hangs on his fridge because he thinks it’s awesome. - Quite proficient at creating codes and code-cracking in both the cybernetic world and any kind of ciphers that come their way from enemy gangmembers. -Extremely good at wrestling and boxing. Mostly wrestling and pinning opponents to the ground. MAGIC/ABILITIESDecoder - Relatively good at cracking or at least circumventing firewalls and troublesome programs that keep him out of infiltrating a desired location or cache. Wrassler - As Sera’s enforcer, Crowe is good at delivering the pain and then some. He doesn’t need to be the biggest or the strongest, but his eye for detail and habit for paying attention to even the slightest changes makes him well aware of his opponents weak spots for him to later exploit. Although violence isn’t usually his first resort unless someone is being really really stupid. RELATIONSHIPSSera! - Boss man Nall - Coworker Riley - Dumbass HISTORYThe result of an affair between a waitress and a Libran Lieutenant, Crowe was taken in by that when his mother died giving birth. He wasn’t treated well, and the it was usually said that he was “adopted” whenever people asked why he looked so much like the Lieutenant, and sometimes genetics just make you lucky. Crowe thought he looked nothing like him, and he was usually last in line for everything when it came to education, entertainment, clothing, and anything else, his half-siblings taking the lion’s share of attention. Not that Crowe complained much. He usually drowned himself in a video game or computer program of some sort. The Lieutenant died in the Great War, and when Crowe came of age he was kicked out of the house with nothing more than a backpack full of clothes and 500 credits to his own name. He knew he was on his own for quite some time and it only took the Lieutenant’s death to seal that into reality. Crowe fell into the ‘wrong crowd’ and made a name for himself. It was a life, even if it meant taking money or occasionally beating some guy’s brains out because they didn’t pay what they owed, and better than what he had before. So Crowe was better off making the most of it. Recycled Soul into new Meatbag filler, vis a vis: CroweEpilogueTHREADS
85
« on: May 23, 2018, 05:37:13 pm »
She’d been pretty fervent in defending Darlin’ as he was beaten and dragged off. And honestly that wasn’t even the worst thing they could do to him in front of her. It was interesting to say the least. He was a strange wolf to her and already she seemed more than passionate in trying to bargain for his safety, for his life. He was still a part of the pack, despite tearing into Daiv’s throat. It wasn’t that much of a loss on the pack’s part.
Daiv was strong but stupid, a liability, and would have ruined the Alpha’s prize. Jaspar would have torn his throat out too. That said, Darlin’ had to be punished for his insolence. Taking Daiv’s life wasn’t his call, and the fact that the prize had gotten hurt definitely was too. The punishment would be quick, but he wouldn’t be killed. He had to know his place, that was all.
“I look forward to it, honey,” Jaspar growled back to her, baring his teeth in an animalistic grin. He’d keep her on that promise and just when she was least expecting it, he’d crush her skull in his bare hands. The only reason Darlin’ had been spared a similar fate was because he was pack and tended to stay within the lines. But if Jaspar had his way, he’d be scrapped and made cannibal fodder.
“So you think Darlin’s helping you? And ain’t setting you up for failure. Alpha just wants to have a chat with him. See what’s going on. In the meantime you just lay there and lick your wounds, you little shit. As it is we all have to do things we don’t want to do,” he grumbled and shook his head, standing and spitting in her direction through the bars, stalking off.
Meanwhile Darlin’ knelt in front of Igantius and wiped his mouth off from the blood that dribbled there, keeping his arm close and pushing himself to stand, legs a little shaky after he’d been bent over and held down. He hadn’t made a peep, much to Ignatius’ dismay, but he didn’t break his gaze from his Alpha either.
“I know what she’s been dragged here for,” Darlin’ said levelly, holding the pain in his lower back with winding tension in his face. “But she ain’t gonna get better if you don’t let me look after her. She ain’t trusting of anyone else. All the other wolves wanna piece of her. First female they scent and they wanna pounce.”
“And you don’t?” Ignatius growled back at him, fixing his trousers.
“I can fucking control myself! I ain’t a mindless bloodhound. I’ll keep her from getting agitated. I ain’t goin’ no where. I know my place, Ignatius. This is my pack. You won’t have to correct me again.”
“Good. Because if there’s anymore trouble and I won’t be so fucking lenient next time.”
“There ain’t gonna be a next time,” Darlin’ replied. “Just keep the others off her, and she’ll be righter than daylight.” He shivered and fixed his shirt back over his form, letting part it hook around his neck and cradle his sore arm like a makeshift sling. Being punished wasn’t the worst thing in the world, being cast out could be. Where else would he go? This was the only pack he knew.
“Done. You break your word and you’re dead meat. Get the fuck out of here.”
Darlin’ staggered out of the main hall and back out to where Morrigan was held, Angus following him with the key to her cell in his possession. Every step made his lower back ache even more, and he avoided meeting the eyes of others. He’d shamed himself, been corrected, and that was that. There wasn’t any need to carry on about it. He just wanted to hurry, to make sure Jaspar hadn’t hurt Morrigan, and pushed everything else out of mind.
When he was back in front of her cell, Angus opened it for him again, letting him inside and sealing them both within. She couldn’t move, not unless Darlin’ carried her. For now, he could barely carry himself.
Angus glared at the pair before leaving, and leaving Darlin’ to kneel in front of the cot, leaning forward on his good arm, cradling his chin in his elbow. “Hey, he didn’t hurt you, did he?” he asked, noticing Jaspar was nowhere to be seen.
86
« on: May 22, 2018, 11:17:01 pm »
All the wild and primal instincts that usually laid brimming just underneath the surface surged wildly in Cabal. It didn’t take much, usually prey that wanted to be bitten, and that throbbing pulse hungry and wanting, just like Ren’s was. Because the second Ren mewled against him, leaned all his slinky body weight back onto him, he knew he’d touched on that want, and Cabal could feel those vibrations from deep inside the elf. That frequency was so enticing, falling sheerly in tune with his that he couldn’t resist.
Cabal shivered, the tremble visibly clenching his every muscle, and the second Ren pulled far enough away from him to take his advice to heart, he growled softly. The frustration was evident, his brow furrowing and he bared his teeth up at Ren, his own chest heaving with panting breaths. “You’re gonna make me wait, you bastard,” he hissed, and let his eyes take in that slender umber form.
Nothing about Ren was particularly soft, and the form presented to him made Cabal’s hands reach up and dip into the rivulets where portions of muscle peeked through, ridging skin. His warmth was intoxicating, and already he could feel those vibrations humming through the elf, radiating like a low-pitched frequency, all through his body. Cabal pressed against a chakra in elf’s belly, moaning softly as he felt the need that glinted erectly from Ren’s parted jeans.
Warmth would spread through him. And although it was already unbearably hot in that elevator, and beads of sweat were forming on his brow, Cabal wanted nothing more than to pin Ren to the floor and pound into him. It took everything in his body to keep himself in check. There would be plenty of opportunity to do just that.
Then the Raven moved just out his reach and Cabal growled again. His hips swayed as he slipped those bothersome jeans off just enough. Cabal’s heart was racing, thrumming his pulse in his ears, and his eyes reduced to predatory slits. “You like to play the hard way, don’t you,” he murmured. Well before Ren took matters into his own hands and parted his legs. Cabe gasped, caught off guard and putting his hands on either side of him, to keep himself steady, elbows pressed firmly to the ground.
“What—the…” He panted hard, eyes narrowed, and his voice caught in his throat at the kisses Ren pressed to his belly, that warmth that he’d opened up in Ren now spreading into his own languid flesh. The burden of that feeble material existence momentarily alleviated by the rush of blood south, and the aching cock that throbbed to be sated.
“Ffff-fuck,” he hissed. “Fuck me.” He couldn’t hold back those moans, and he finally rested his head against the ground, rolling it backwards, arching his back into Ren’s ministrations. Each kiss and subsequent soothing of his tongue left Cabal gasping for breath and opening his eyes to watch Ren squeeze at the base of him. He was ridged and the tip already dripped with a bead of precum. “Bold? Why don’t you put my cock where your mouth is, if you’re feeling bold?” he murmured, eyes halflidded and face completely flushed.
An aching whine escaped him. And he reached up to take a handful of Ren’s hair to dip his head down to do exactly that. “Lookitchu, being such a brave soul. Bet you can’t swallow all of me down,” he openly challenged. But also, the possibility of whatever Ren could fit sent chilling thrills all through him, sparks jolting right south and only made him throb that much more. Because whether he wanted to show it or not, he was completely at Ren’s mercy. And the last thing he wanted was for the elf to relent.
87
« on: May 22, 2018, 10:31:54 pm »
He closed his eyes, the odd tingles of her kissing along his face sent gooseflesh along his arms and neck and back. Everywhere where cool air touched him, where the tingle of her kisses lingered, he shivered and the comfort they brought was so foreign to him, he didn't know what to say. The only kind of affection like that he'd ever received was from his mother. And she was dead. Gone somewhere.
That void had been filled with pain, and the lack of it let him know when he'd done right. Yet, to know that he'd been able to bring her even a modicum of reassurance left him emotionally stumped. He believed her. She would be better she said.
That gentle note in her voice, the way she touched him. Darlin' found himself easing into that comfort, laying down onto the cot, as thin as it was and letting her lay fully on him. His arms swooped around her, holding her close and stroking her hair, brushing fingers through it, kissing along her temples. One way or another.
She'd be okay. And for once Darlin was able to close his eyes and go to sleep. No fits, no nightmares, no restless tossing and turning.
When the day passed and morning came, not that any of that permeated that thick livid darkness that was the Midhaven. Darlin' didn't hear the cell door opening, didn't quite notice someone yanking him out by his neck and dragging him outside until his face was already getting bruised and bloodied. The cell door was locked and he was strewn across the floor as Jaspar continued to kick his face in.
"I guess that's what your sodden plan was all along? Keep the prize to yourself?" he growled, and the three others behind him walked around in order to grab Darlin up by his shoulders. His shoulder clearly protested against the movement where his arm had been kicked in, and he howled in pain when they grasped him harshly.
"What are you talking about! She's fucking hurt," he managed to spit out, the blood dripping down his nose and mouth and coating his goatee from there. "You're an idiot!"
"Fucking shit, Darlin' you can't do one thing right! And now she's fucking broken," he hissed and threw down a set of clothes for him. "Get dressed. We'll see to it she gets what she needs."
"No," he hissed. "I ain't leaving her."
"That was an order beta. Fucking do it or we'll smash your spine too." Darlin could hardly move, and the ache in his shoulder meant he could only keep it close as he trembled his hands around a set of jeans and a t-shirt he loosely draped over his frame. He could barely stand, spitting down a droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth.
Even so, they dragged him off and Jaspar stood in front of the cell, glowering down at Morrigan. The little morsel all this trouble was for. They should just kill her and be done with it in his book. Why waste time and make her a mate. Nothing about her was remotely special and now she was broken.
"You like Darlin'?' he asked levelly, cutting to the chase, eyeing the shock collars in the corner that had been removed. "Or do you just like giving stupid males like him a lot of trouble?"
88
« on: May 21, 2018, 10:18:23 pm »
Watching her change back and seeing the marks left upon her only made his stomach drop further as to the horror set in. Darlin’ had made a promise and within the last day or so, however long it’d been, she’d already gotten captured, hurt, and broken almost beyond repair. He didn’t know if he could fix her back, but he’d rather he was touching her than anyone else. And the thought of anyone else laying a hand on her drove him crazy.
He sat on his knees in front of her, eyes red and sore from the tears that drifted down his face. She said he saved her life, but he could only feel the dread of putting her further into danger than he ever meant to. If only he hadn’t found her at all, none of this would have happened. Maybe she would have just drowned in toxic sludge. Even that would be a better fate than this.
But she shifted back anyway and he leaned back on his haunches, taking in the exact amount of damage and what healed and what would take a while. The gash on his arm already was starting to scab over, but it would take another day to fully close over. She was different though, made of sturdier stuff than he initially thought. It was good, a vaguely relieving notion, and even knowing that she was healing just enough by changing back despite the effort involved, made him breathe out a sigh of relief.
Darlin’ shuffled over to the bed and crawled in beside her, shifting so that she could half lay on his chest from where she was already positioned on her belly. His arm immediately hooked around her, settling in the crook of her neck and wrapping around her side and partly on the middle of her spine. He could feel the twisted bones underneath his hands, and in fairness they already felt better than when he set her down.
He was damp with a thin sheen of sweat. And his heart kept racing. “Thank you for bringing you into this fucking pit of despair?” he tried to laugh, turning his head and nuzzling her gently with his cheek against her cheek. He brought his head back enough to look into her eyes, pressing his forehead gently against hers. She felt so small against him, and the sheer tenacity that existed in such a compact form might have gotten his heart racing for other reasons were she not completely torn to shreds.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered again and kicked himself mentally for saying it. “You’ll be ok?” The sheer doubt in his voice was something he wanted to kick himself for. “I never meant for any of this to happen.” And gently brushed his lips against her cheek. The beard and goatee scratching against her cheek.
89
« on: May 21, 2018, 09:08:28 pm »
The second Angus saw her pawed hand slip into Darlin's, he growled and cracked his whip at the pair of them, the small shockwave of it ripping against his wrist and slashing his skin open along his forearm. Darlin’ retracted his hand and stared Angus dead in the eye. “If you want her to get better, than she needs to be kept away from the others. Ignatius won’t like the condition she’s in. Let me take care of her. She’ll be right as rain. I ain’t going anywhere,” he muttered and nursed his forearm.
The gash was a small one, but the throbbing was secondary to the racing of his heart beat, in getting some kind of care for Morrigan’s wounded back. Angus huffed and stood, stalking away toward a wall where there were a set of shock collars and he snatched one in hand and threw it into the cage, the collar flying deftly between the bars. “Put it on. You try anything and you’re fried,” he hissed.
Angus waited until the collar was secured around Darlin’s neck, and once that was in place the cage door opened. Darlin’ crawled out and the door was opened to Morrigan’s. He reached inside and gently plucked her out, holding her bridal style while he kept her close to him, cradling her to his chest. “To the med ward, the two of you. Run and you’re toast,” he warned again.
Darlin’ said nothing, only obeyed like a good beta did and just kept Morrigan firmly planted against him, keeping her gaze averted as they moved to a wider area. A locked cell door with the same silver bars that Angus closed behind them and locked firmly. “Look at her back and see what needs fixing. Otherwise I’ll just tell Ignatius that you broke her,” he cackled and stalked off.
Darlin’ took the collar off his neck and hers as well, tossing them to the side, forgetting his own wounds as he gently set her down on the small cot in the corner of the dimly lit cell. “Morrigan,” he whined and knelt down beside her. “Morri, your legs are fucked.” As if that wasn’t obvious enough. “Stupid, stupid. Me. I’m stupid. I’m sorry. This is all my fucking fault.” He wasn’t the petulant sort but when someone couldn’t walk after getting into a scuffle you started, it was a little hard not to feel guilty. Darlin’ rolled her gently onto her side and examined her back, where the line that normally was there, was not as it should be.
“You’re going to be ok. I’ll get you out of here. I said I would. I don’t make promises lightly,” he hissed, trying to see what he could even do. Support it? Have her lay against him? Wouldn’t that just make it worse if she was already twisted like a pretzel?
He felt tears pricking at the corner of his eyelids, and one slide down his cheek, making clean the dirt that lightly battered his face, and he leaned over Morrigan’s face, rubbing his cheek against hers. “I’ll get you out.”
90
« on: May 21, 2018, 07:13:06 pm »
Having his hands full was definitely one way of putting it. And the little unholy terror that had nearly given him a heart attacked seemed fond enough of this lady that she even reached back to try to grab at her hair again. To which Deego swatted her hand back and clung it against him. "Dadadadadadadadadad adadadada," she mumbled irreverently and tried picking his nose once more. "Dadadadadadadadadad a."
"I know, little baby, but picking my nose in public isn't polite in front of strangers," he nodded to her, and soothed her hair down with a few pets. He shook his head and grinned over at this Micah woman. Micah. Did he know that name? It sounded somewhat familiar, but only insofar as it was with names and potential PR clients.
He didn't do the main gigs anymore, and working conveniently from home meant he could spend more time with Almond, right terror that she was. "Actually," he sighed and blew raspberries against his baby's cheek and set her into a giggle fit. "I could use a bit of help figuring out what set of crayons are good for two year olds. You have some knowledge of kids from the sound of it. I'd appreciate the help."
Usually the fatter the object, the more inane it was and targeted toward small children, but Almond seemed dead set on taking anything remotely meltable an setting fire to it. Maybe crayons weren't for her. Dragonsballs, he wasn't getting her any markers she could potentially huff on. She was much too young for that.
Deego glanced back down the aisle to where he'd left his shopping cart and gave a mildly petulant sigh. Nothing in there was fireproof.
91
« on: May 21, 2018, 07:01:39 pm »
The thought that she’d never move, that she was a broken mess and it was all his fault brought nothing short of cold dread in the pit of his stomach. Darlin’ frowned and felt a soft whine erupt from his throat as he observed her from his cage. Already his heart was throbbing. Here she was dying, and somewhere in a dark pit, Daiv was being thrown, a carcass left to rot. If by some miracle she was still alive - even after all that - he promised she would be safe and he would fight tooth and nail to making sure that happened.
“C’mon,” he whispered, the whining slithering out of his throat again, his face leaning almost leaning against the bars, but not quite touching the silver. His arm shifted between them, trying to reach out toward her. The distance between them was just so that if she managed to reach out, their hands might touch. That was, if she would just fucking move. “You can do it. Wake up.” The whispers were little more than soft tendrils he wanted to sliver over to her, to brush against the tufts of fur that had been matted with blood.
A small leaning too much to the left caused his arm to singe against the silver. With a yelp he retreated and stayed curled up at the center of the cage, panting heavily and the sensation of the cage suddenly becoming too small for him increased the agitation and desire to rage against it. For all his wounds, the scrapes and cuts and scuffs and bruises that were starting to take hold on him, he had little energy to break. Another day of rest and maybe that steel wouldn’t stand a chance, but that sting of silver kept him at bay.
And made his desperation all that much more unbearable.
Until she started to move.
He gasped and pressed forward against the bars.
“Morrigan,” he whispered, coughing as he cleared his throat, trying to find his voice to reach her. “Morrigan!” His time his tone was harsher. “Morrigan, can you hear me?” Seeing her struggle as she was, he touched at the bars again, withstanding the pain to try and reach an arm out to her again.
“Morrigan don’t struggle. The bars won’t give. I can’t even break them. I promise I’ll get you out of there. I’ll make good on that promise,” he murmured enough for her to hear. Her posture and the clear cut way her legs didn’t move made it evident being thrown around had did more damage than he would have thought. She was in no condition to be mated with. No condition to even be handled by anyone.
He moved back from the at the approach of another packmate, one that smacked the bars with a whip. “No touching the goods, Darlin’. You’re lucky you weren’t ordered to be ravaged then and there. Not even in the fun way,” he cackled. “The fuck is wrong with you. You sick in the head or something? Tch! Nevermind, I don’t wanna know nor do I care. You carrying on this way over a fucking shewolf, and that cunt is going to get you in trouble.”
“Look at her you fool, she’s hurt! She can’t fucking move! Because your boys can’t keep their fucking hands to themselves,” Darlin’ growled from where he sat at the center of the cage. “There’s something wrong with her back. And if you think Ignatius is going to want her like that, you’ve got another thing coming. I won’t just be punished, but so will the rest of the pack for letting her get broken. Can’t even do one simple job, Angus.”
Angus knelt down in front of her cage and cracked his whip in order to get her to stop clawing at the bars. “Settle down!”
“She won’t listen to you,” Darlin’ hissed again. “She’s much too scared! Fuck you’re so stupid! Shoulda died with the rest of your littermates, Angus, fucking moron.”
“And just what do you think you’re going to do?”
Darlin’ didn’t actually have an answer, not even as he shifted closer to the bars and reached out once again to try and take her hand. “Morrigan, do you trust me?”
92
« on: May 21, 2018, 06:29:02 pm »
If only the fuzz in his brain would go away. If only the ringing in his ears would just stop. And if only that shrew of an AI would just shut the fuck up. Because other wise, dealing with Mr. Captain Savior Man over here would be easy peasy booby squeezy. Grisham’s hand on the rifle almost buckled with the effort he needed to concentrate. But at least leaning on the skiff helped mitigate that. Ugh, for once in his life he was glad he got divorced.
This guy…whatever his name was, he was all right. Straightforward and to the point. He could deal with that. It was easier to know what the intention was without a harpy cawing down at him. But just when Grisham was about to respond, the harpy showed up. And not even the hot Kiers sister either.
Grisham was too irritated to focus, and the drowsiness of not having eaten and drank anything decent for the last…however long…was starting to get to him. He could shoot the guy, probably would if he gave him a reason too, but then that damn AI would likely take command of the ship in the event of his likely death, and throw him out the airlock.
Those weren’t good odds for getting back.
Maybe finding a way to override her sorry annoying ass was ideal, then he could kill him, and commandeer the ship back to Aedolis. Yeah, that seemed like a much better idea. In either case Grisham had a hard time believing that this ‘good samaritan’ just didn’t happen to want anything. Because that was either true and he was biggest idiot in this quadrant of the galaxy. Or he was really shit at taking prisoners.
Grisham pushed himself from where he laid perched against the skiff, only holding the rifle halfway up, but clearly having no intention to fire. He walked passed Kyrian, and gave the holographic image of the ship’s AI a half-grinned sneer. “Boy I do not miss that. Call off your wife, then we can talk,” he growled, easing the gun down against his chest and having enough energy to cross the flight bay. The logos on his flight suit and armor were evident, he wasn’t going to take them off just yet. Nor was he going to allow himself to be disarmed.
93
« on: May 09, 2018, 01:10:36 pm »
"FUCK YOU! WHOEVER THE FUCK YOU ARE! DON'T TELL ME WHO I OUGHT TO OWE MY GRATITUDE TO, YOU FUCKWAD!" The aggression that took the edge of his voice left him hoarse and thirsting for water. The little bit left he had in his canteen wasn't going to last and pissing wasn't ideal when your bed was going to end up being your toilet. The skiff wasn't designed for long distance travel. Didn't even have a jump drive.
And despite that aggression he knew that bark was going to do him no good.
Grisham didn't give two fucks who they really were or if they were going to try and 'help him'. Help themselves it was more like it. Grisham kept the charge on the rifle handy as the skiff was gradually pulled into the larger ship's hangar. He was half tempted to activate whatever was left in his fuel reserves to resist the tethers and pull himself back out into space.
Maybe if the trajectory was right he'd land right on Cancer station and he could swindle his way back to Aedolis.
But then the ship was in and he could see the other guy that was speaking between the male and female voices on the comm, take his helmet off, still standing in his void suit. Grisham's heart was throbbing wildly in his chest and he knew that any desperation would make his trigger finger itchy and someone would end up a nasty splatter on the wall.
He didn't believe him of course. He didn't care what rules he had or what he was promised. Grisham had seen those tactics before. Had used them. And it was just as well that he promised food and sanctum only to turn around and throw him into the brig. His head hurt, and that feeling of disconnection made his vision foggy. Grisham blinked hard, wishing Haruxhir could hear him. Feel him still.
But all there was was silence, and it made his head throb from the withdrawal.
A low slow and steady breath in, and a slow and steady breath out. Then his hand hit exit panel, the door unlocking from where it'd been previously stuck, the exit chamber equating pressure, and he held the gun across his chest, leveled with his eye, helmet still firmly screwed into place on his void suit.
"What the fuck do you want?" he demanded levelly, managing to remain this calm and not reach into that man's mind to tear out his thoughts. Just enough. The lack of connection with his dragon made it difficult to even focus the gun sights on him. But he remained level as he stepped out the side of the skiff, remaining part of the way in, the only thing visible was the maw of that plasma rifle. "Why? Why bother? I don't need fucking exposition. Just a quick answer 'fore I turn you into tomato soup."
94
« on: May 09, 2018, 12:34:54 pm »
Daiv was battle scarred and the holes in his hide and flesh would heal with time. They always did just like the one over his left eye where it'd been clawed out by another wolf. Daiv was lean and long limbed, not quite the stocky firm build Darlin' had. And despite Morrigan's fervent bites, claw strikes, and the sheer force by which she wouldn't be tamed, he was wily and when she lunged for his throat, he shifted fully, his strength coming full force.
Daiv reversed the grip she had on his hands and moving with the force she played against him, instead turning his body so that when she lunged forward she was slammed back and to the side against the edge of the pool with enough force to crack the stone. And for all her ferocity, for all she was trained for, it only made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end even more as he snagged her by the neck and started to squeeze down in a death grip.
Darlin' mean while was still dizzy from being chucked aside and recovered to the image of Daiv's back to him. He didn't waste any more time, shifting fully and throwing himself onto the larger werewolf, sinking his teeth into the spot between his shoulder and neck and tearing out a thick chunk of flesh. He dug in again and again and Daiv screamed at the feel, forgetting Morrigan momentarily as Darlin' continued to rip out his throat.
Those horrific sounds, the kind his brother made when he tried to stop his father flashed into the back of Darlin's mind, the cries of a life leaving a body. But to protect someone that did nothing to warrant aggression, that instinct burned hotter in the smaller maroon furred wolf. He didn't hear the commotion of Daiv's screams or Jaspar and 5 others wading into the pool to pull Darlin' off Daiv's limp corpse or a shock collar placed around Morrigan's neck.
He only vaguely saw them both dragged out of the water and the adrenaline gradually left him. "ENOUGH!" the bellow behind him made stone quake. The cavern trembled and Darlin' felt the reverberation deep into his skeleton. His eyes twitched, cutting over to Morrigan in the collar and amped up current sent through her to subdue her aggression.
"Stop!" he griped out, choking back a whimper when Jaspar's fist came flying into his face.
"Cage the both of them. And pull Daiv from the water. What a fucking mess." Jaspar didn't ask what happened. Although it seemed pretty clear to him, and both Darlin' and Morrigan were transported to thick silver plated steel cages, just big enough for a grown man to sit upright in. They weren't placed together, just side by side. And with a whimper Darlin' watched her carefully, already feeling the dread that she might never wake up.
95
« on: May 08, 2018, 11:46:19 pm »
What more could Vander or say that would make Loa understand that this wasn't a game that he wanted to play? The situation could easily be misconstrued and it wasn't like Vander was any good with words anyway. That aside feeling his arms falling around his chest and squeezing him so tightly, almost possessively even, had Vander's heart thumping in a quiet desperation. He whimpered a little beneath the force of the hug.
And to hear Loa's answer. That what they did wasn't anything he was ashamed of or had to fear, sent an chilling ease down his spine as he reclined into the bed and wrapped his arms even tighter around the smaller thinner man. That slightly muscular frame just fit so neatly into his body, that Vander shifted his legs so that he could tangle his together with Loa's.
Vander didn't say anything more for that long gradual moment, instead content to pet Loa's black curly hair away from his face, enjoying the sensation, the intimacy of it all. He could hear Vander's heart underneath him, no doubt, the nervous ticks and the small shakes that made him kind of cling tighter and drag a hand gently down his back.
"Do you...uhh," he didn't know how to pose the question and instead tilted his head upward and down toward the other man, kissing at his forehead. "Do you wanna have another go at it?" he murmured.
96
« on: May 08, 2018, 01:23:24 am »
Whatever gods he knew, this was too good to be believed. The temperature already left him languid and small beads of sweat dotting his browline and the haze of smoke clouding that elevator like it a heavy fog on an early morning in spring. Cabal gasped abruptly the second he felt his back slam -gently - into the flooring of that elevator and the blood rushing right south had him tingling all over.
Ren evidently was a lot stronger than he looked. Cabe was by no means a small man, even by human standards, and the slinky elf managing to catch him off guard enough to pin him down made his heart thump wildly in his chest. As if it wasn't already. He panted softly, peering up at those glowing blue eyes and the thrill of adrenaline caused a groan to erupt from him.
He was gorgeous and he had Cabal right where he wanted him.
The points of those sharp nails, and the threat of what they could do to him, unleashed something primal inside Cabal, the adrenaline sinking in and taking it's hold in what would be a fight or flight response in anyone else. The thrill of what Ren could do, and what he would do, was enough to make Cabe bare his teeth up at him in a predatory grin the second his lips were free to do so.
Each kiss him had him wanting and his hands reached down to grip the meat of his hands, squeezing it harshly and pushing Ren's hips down to meet the prodding aching cock that had hardened in that thrilling moment. "I'll deal with it the best way I know how. By plowing your ass into the floor and making you all mine," he promised, his tone resolute.
Cabal's left hand slid around to the front of Ren's hips, fingertips rubbing at the hardness pressing against that zipper. With an expert hand he managed to unzip them and free that member, his index finger finding the beginning of that jacob's ladder from the base of Ren's hardness and running it along each ring, before taking all of him in hand and squeezing firmly.
"There's just one," he panted, "...little problem..." Cabal tilted his head and caught Ren's bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard before running his tongue along the underside of it. "You're too overdressed....for the occasion..."
97
« on: May 07, 2018, 11:58:18 pm »
It was nice to be home away from home. Well, this little slice of Samariel when he had to leave. Hamtato had enough food and water to last for the weekend and his cage was always cleaned before he left. The critter was happy and always liked to play by the time he got back. Maybe it wasn't ideal for a demon of his sort to have a pet hamster. The little guys tended to croak way too soon and easily and for all he knew Hamtato was a bajillion years old and could flop over and become stiff any day. Until then though, he was gonna love the little guy for all he was worth.
The place was broad and widely built. Echo worthy, even if just for a few days. And whatever Andy said, it did not suck. Certainly not enough for her to remove her clothes down to her barebones bra and panties and curl up into his sheets. His eyebrows shot to his hairline - any higher and they'd fly off and he slipped out of his shoes, kicking them off to the side before stomping up the stairs to the loft and shrugging out of his shirt, bringing the snacks with him and licking his fingers from a pork rind afterward.
She looked hot. And being in your underwear by yourself kind of sucked. So he joined her, wriggling out of jeans and hucking them to the side and flopping down onto the bed with her, promptly rolling her over and straddling her and pinning his hands on either side of her head, looking down her with a drunk surly grin.
"Pfft. I don't have to see it to know it sucks. But that's because ya won't prove it and I don't give a shit," he snorted, rolling his eyes playfully before taking another pork rind and shoving it into his mouth, munching on it and sitting up onto her lap, taking one of her hands from the bed and settling it onto his chest, just laying it there and casually swiping it down the slope of his abdomen.
"See because, it's comfortable. 'Sall I need for visits up here. Samariel is my home. My Hamtato. He's a hamster. Looks like a potato. Hamtato. I know, I'm brilliant," he snorted, grinning down at her and taking her hands again, threading them in his and letting their fingers tangle together. His gills flexed and frilled out at the tingles she brought about laying underneath him like that, jolts running south and the sound of the pulse between them left them was quite loud.
He grasped her other wrist and pinned them above her wrist, holding her down and lazily quirking his brow at her. "I like you like this. You look good, that ain't no fucking surprise. But I mean like comfy," he murmured, his mouth just a few millimeters from her lips. The temptation to kiss her was strong. Maybe later. Maybe not. "It's a nice look."
98
« on: May 07, 2018, 11:13:55 pm »
The lady that promptly hoisted up the demon child certainly smelled funny. Not like Daddy at all. Not scaley either. Her skin was so smooth and nice and Almond absolutely resisted no desire to reach forward and mush those cheeks between her hands, blabbering something with terrible phrasing that Daddy tried to correct her on with little victory. Maybe this lady had some fire on her that she could play with. That was fun. And always made Daddy make funny faces.
Yeah she smelled funny all right, but it wasn't awful and in fact the musk was oddly comforting. She leaned forward played with those mushable cheeks before she heard Deego's voice and wriggled around until she was finally set down on her little devil feet and lunged for Dada, promptly wrapping arms around his legs, tugging at them and pointing up at the lady. She blurted out something in gibberish for Deego to smell her.
She smelled good. Like a dog but with too much hairspray in her hair.
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT, ALMOND YOU GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK!" Deego hissed and reached down to hoist Almond up into his arms, hugging her tight.
No. NO nononono! That wasn't what almost wanted at all, pointing back at the lady and reaching up to pull at Deego's big nose. SMELL HER GODDAMMIT!
Deego hugged his fussy demon child before adjusting her onto his hips and looking at the other woman dead in the eyes, grinning ear to ear, flicking them, and unleashing a deep breath. "Thank you for finding her and not being a weirdo," he sighed. "She's a right fucking terror and she'll run away like a fart in the wind if I don't keep her leashed to me. I'd otherwise be ok if we're at home. But shopping is kinda hard with her wanderlust. I'm Deego. Thanks."
He reached out a grubby hand for her to shake, still hugging Almond tightly to him until she settled down and laid her head against his shoulder.
99
« on: May 07, 2018, 10:55:37 pm »
His heart was still battering heavily in his chest and adrenaline wanted to rush to every limb and appendage. Yet when his eyes fell upon hers, those pale golden orbs, he panted softly and forced himself to ease into the bed, resting his head back down against the frumpled pillow that was slightly damp from his hair.
"I don't think so," he said with a stern note of resoluteness. "I mean...I'm sorry. Yes I'm awake." He shifted underneath her, lifting his head to look down at her where she rested in the crook of his chest and she rose and fell with each breath. "I had a dream. I think it was a dream anyway. I saw familiar faces engulfed in flame.... My friends were dying. And I couldn't help them.
"Edanith. Do you know that name? What is it?" Mars shifted around so that he could sit up, forcing Cordelia into his lap so that he could look at her more clearly. His arms fell to her shoulders, where metal came to his hand and his fingers tenderly squeezed her fleshy shoulder. His eyes fell onto hers, locking gazes as if he wanted to just delve into her mind, flay it apart and take the information he could.
In theory he could and if he were anyone else he would have. But it was getting hard to focus, and it was taking everything he had to keep the faint thoughts and voices from without their room from seeping into his mind.
"Cordelia, tell me the truth."
100
« on: May 07, 2018, 09:10:07 pm »
The finality of it all, what it would have been, was all the relief Glover could have asked for. The pain of living was at times too much, too much everything. Too much nothing. And that wave of relief washed over him regardless to know that at least here, wherever this was, on this side or some place mystically incorporeal, he could relinquish some of that pain.
Until all of that shattered when he heard the cracked edge of Wil's voice. Glover was irrevocably silent, the vacancy that had been in his chest now aching with the teeming edges of both agony and ecstasy. Because Wil was here and Wil was fucking pissed that they probably could smother him with a pillow for all the rage they were brimming over with. The old Glover would have smiled, the little twitch at the corner of his mouth at any moment Wil seemed like they were going to fucking lose it.
Lose it and he'd tenderly crawl over to them and nip small kisses at the corner of their jawline, coax them into a heated kiss, wrap his arms around them.
The sound that erupted from Glover was a mix of a whimper and a moan. The hole in his chest that belonged to Lambo felt as if it was being spread open by calipers. And he ached to crawl forward and lay his head in their lap, to wrap his one arm around them and kiss softly all over. No words passed beyond his lips, however, not even that shit grin he was infamous for. Because what he'd done was real, and the fear of disappointing Wil even more kept him still.
"I'm sorry," he found himself saying, unable to murmur much more than that. What was he going to say? That he missed them? That he knew they would never go off world what with all the gall their techno-aversion afforded them. And maybe, maybe saying 'fuck all' to everything was exactly the way he was meant to go out. That if he could find Wil, maybe he could explain everything. And at the very least Wil would have some closure. Then he'd leave them alone. THey'd never have to see him again.
And just like that they were gone and with some rattling, returned with a ladle and tin with water. He looked up at them and adjusted himself where he could actually do as commanded. The water went down with a cold harshness on his cracked and wanting throat. The soothing was vague but goddamn if it didn't taste like the best damn water he'd ever had in his life. Now if only there was like just a bit of an upper mixed in with that, he'd be fucking set.
Just kidding. Bad joke is bad.
Glover felt that noise wanting to erupt again and he disobeyed the command to not move. The sunburns fucking hurt, but he didn't care. His arm was gone, but he didn't care. He was still alive, and there was nowhere left in his back pocket where a single fuck could be given. "I missed you," he finally said, the small lilt in his tone incapable of being stamped back. His voice cracked - partly from the water, partly because Wil was so close that he could smell them. "I'm sorry that I'm so fucking stupid. You don't deserve that shit. But fuck all if I'm going to lie to you now after everything. I fucking missed you, and I'm not gonna even pretend I gave a single fuck from here or to Tynova of what it would take to see you again. I'm just glad I got to..."
The exposure of those words made Glover's heart pound in his chest and his vision blurry. God, his whole everything felt so hot and it wasn't even just from the sun either. No amount of heat or being picked apart by scavengers could make him this vulnerable. Because fuck him sideways and call him Sally, the truth fucking hurt.
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