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adleryoung · 2 years

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"I'll make lamb chops outta her," Burnside proposed when I didn't immediately say anything. "Uh, if that's what you want. Make up your mind quick. She's gettin' away."

"It's tempting," I admitted. "But no, better not. She said she would serve me, and she swore not to harm me. I gave her some orders and she might actually follow them. I'm not expecting much though."

"Pain's always a good motivator," Burnside pointed out.

"Lana Lynne would probably skin you alive and then come back here to laugh about it," I theorized. "I would prefer that she go away and stay there."

"Really? Fancy fluffy gal like that is a cold-blooded killer?"

"She's ruthless," I stated. "Pure Unseelie."

"Gosh," Burnside exclaimed. "Reckon maybe I oughta go after her so we can compare notes an' swap stories. She sounds like my kinda -"

"Uh, never mind," Burnside added as I gave her a warning look. "You wanna let her get away, you're the boss."

"Where did you get that blade?" I asked.

"Took it offa some rabbits. Purty nice, ain't it? They got a good blacksmith in their village."

"You've been to the rabbit village?" I asked with some surprise.

"Nope. Just guessin' from the quality o' this here machete, they must have a smith who knows his stuff."

"All right," I sighed. "I'm ready to hear it. How long was I gone? Let me guess. It's been centuries and the land is overrun with giant peach spiders and roaming robber bands. The rabbits have turned Bunkirk into a fort and are making weapons to defend themselves against a world that is falling apart, and all of this is somehow my fault because, well, it always is."

"You sure can tell some wonderful stories," Burnside sighed. "Nice as all that sounds, unfortunately it ain't what happened. That sheep gal showed up, near as I can figure, twenty-five days ago."

"So it's only been a little over three weeks?" I asked excitedly.

"Yep."

"So Vernier has been bringing food baskets for just three weeks?"

"Yep, and she'll be by in three days time unless you want us to fetch her sooner. You see, what happened was -"

"OH BURNSIDE!" I giggled, picking her up and spinning happily around the stone circle. "THIS IS WONDERFUL! GOOD WORK! GREAT JOB! YOU'RE THE BEST!"

"Gosh," she gasped. "All I done was -"

"Win teh raccoon monster came back, I told her wat was goin on!!1!" Angela Weakflit exclaimed as she buzzed up amid a swarm of Ixies. "U C, I was crashed out in teh grass on teh side of teh dolmen & I saw wat happened."

"Good job, Angela!" I exclaimed.

"We are all proud of her for once," Typantronn declared. "It turneth out that she not only found the bell-ringing intruder, but provided the intel needed to handle the situation."

"Yep, that lil critter told me that there had been a awful fight, and a Floozy had drug you into the Gate," Burnside explained woozily. "Don't set me down yet; I reckon I'll keel over if you do. Anyways: Dangerous or not, I was fixin' to go in after you, but they pointed out I'd be lost in the time-slip too, an' our group'd be short two entire elves for however long. So I tried usin' elfmind to see if you was okay."

"You did?" I asked with some surprise.

"Don't worry darlin, I ain't good enough at it to read your thoughts. But I was able to sense that you was still alive in there. Meanwhile, Rebecca was in a awful state, so I told the Ixies to hold down the fort an' not let the crazy rabbit wander off an' get hurt, while I run back to fetch Miz Vernier."

"This is amazing," I gushed, giving Burnside a squeeze.

"You do that again, sweetie, an' I won't be finishin' this here story," she gasped. "We all agreed, considerin' as she's the one with the most sense, Vernier was de facto leader in your absence. She looked over the situation an' decided we'd continue the routine so as to make it look like we had no idea what had happened, so when that Floozy (a obvious enemy) come back out the gate, she'd be none the wiser an' go on thinkin' that she had put one over on us. We packed Rebecca on home, where Vernier's been nursin' her back to health. Me an' the Ixies've been sorta stakin' out the circle, watchin' for you to emerge, an' reportin' to Vernier every few days."

"WONDERFUL!" I exclaimed, squeezing Burnside again and kissing her.

She let out a long, shuddering sigh and went limp in my arms.

"Do I get 1??" Angela squeaked eagerly.

#furry #adventure #elves #story #plot #cartoon #tboay

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kittkaleen · 4 years

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Ingrimm Recollection - for White Mage Honorbound Recollection + Tenacity Recollection - for paladin

#ffxiv screenshots #Kitt Kaleen #white mage #paladin #Miqo'te #Unremarkable shots #just the weapons are so purty

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forgiven-naunet · 5 years

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#ffxiv #ffxiv screenshots #mide uyagir #i was just farming Titania for the PLD weapons #i never even expected to get the weapons (I did!) let alone THIS #IT'S SO PURTY #Norvrandt version of fae darters

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askdawnandvern · 5 years

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Dorian: Welp, that all depends on where you are in North Mammalia. Hell it depends on where you even are in Zootopia.

Wade: Yeah, each district in Zoot sort of has special exemptions and rules regarding firearms that don't carry over to the others. Although when it comes to the big four districts, the rules are pretty in step with one another.

Dorian: Much like North Mammalia, Zootopia's districts, North Meadowlands included, almost operate as separate states that are part of a whole unified country. So sometimes y'all have unilateral rules that come down from the mayor's office that the other areas have to adopt or challenge. Or local rules that are modified for district specifics.

Wade: The big four districts have a universal public firearms ban. The only weapons allowed to be sold for public use are non-lethal tranq tech, or other variants of weapons built to harmlessly stop mammals in their tracks. This includes net and beanbag guns, and of course mace of varying grades. Granted, it's considered a crime if it can be proven you used too much force to stop an intruder on purpose. For instance, using bear mace on a mammal as small as a fox can cause some serious medical problems.

Dorian: Up in the North Meadowlands, firearm ownership is permitted as long as you get a license, and don't have any history of violent crime or psychiatric problems. A lot of folks need rifles and such to deal with pest control and livestock, so it was asinine fer us folk's to adopt a blanket ban.

Wade: The ZPD is allowed to have live firearms for emergencies, as obviously, criminals are going to get their paws on live firearms regardless of how hard you try to ban them. Of course, whenever we have to use them, it usually results in a hell of a lot more paperwork. Which by the way, thanks for the extra paperwork Vern.

Vernon: You're really going to hold that against me?

Wade: Twenty pages of shot-gun use log and bullet count forms all because ya had to shoot that transformer.

Vernon: Hey, it was either that or Dawn died!

Dorian: Up here there's less paperwork, and more firearms fer use to use. Comparatively, we have a lot less non-lethal weapons at the station than lethal types. O'course, it would help if that tranq tech wasn't so damn expensive.

Trenton: Burrow's are mostly the same as the North Meadowland's, save fer the fact that bein' a trooper means I got less firearms on paw than yer standard officer. But unlike Zootopia, ya can't exactly drive ten miles in a direction and find yerself in a 'gun-free zone'. The Burrows is a massive region, and it's very gun-friendly. I'd be surprised if y'all could even find a non-lethal firearms store anywhere in the county.

Yuri: Seaotter is lousy with gun restrictions and bans and so on. Not that it's done anything to curb the criminals. It just makes my job that much harder.

Trenton: That bad?

Yuri: We ain't permitted live firearms. The Seaotter police force is very dependent on tazer tech. Sorta the low-cost alternative to 'tranq tech'. And the pawful of live firearms we have at the station are locked in a safe, and are only permitted to be used under 'extreme' circumstances. Y'all can thank all them latte sippin', limp-wristed wet rats fer thinkin' that was a good idea. So worried about police brutality they're willin' to put up with criminal brutality instead!

Wade: I want to believe this is just another one of yer tall tales. But I've heard as much from other mammals who've transferred outta Seaotter.

Yuri: Thankfully I've gotten purty handy with my tazer pistol, but what i wouldn't give to have a standard pistol when a confrontation with some dealer punk leads to a five to one shoot out.

#Zootopia #askdawnandvern #ask blog #fan character #Assistant Mayor Bellwether #dawn bellwether #zoosona #wastedtimeee

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gaycrouton · 6 years

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Nebraska Nice - 50 States of Sex

Author’s Note: Hey! This is my submission for the “50 States of Sex Challange” created by @viceversawrites and @softnow on Tumblr. My state was Nebraska and I hope I did it justice!

He felt bad, he really did. What was supposed to be a simple stakeout turned into him and Scully sitting outside for hours in record breaking heat. They were posing as a couple on a picnic; weapons, handcuffs, and IDs loaded in the basket as they waited for someone suspicious to emerge from the cornfield. It had been reported that a man was walking through the fields under the guise of detasseling, but was actually injecting the corn with harmful pesticides.

He figured it’d be simple enough, the detasseling crew usually got out at noon, so he and Scully would be waiting there to get him away from the prying eyes of the crowd, hopefully catching him in the act. He told her to wear what would appear to be ‘casual date’ clothes in case he saw them before it was time to catch him. So she wore a spaghetti strap sundress as he wore one of his button ups while they sat on a hill overlooking the field.

It was fun at first, this impromptu date with Scully, she even teased him that this was more romantic than their normal dates. They caught sight of the man almost immediately, but then they lost him. He was adamant he’d emerge, so they sat there and waited.

And waited.

After the first hour Scully put her hair up as sweat beaded along her forehead and neck, Mulder had no doubts his shirt was probably damp in a few places. As he watched her raise her arms to tuck auburn hair into a rubber band, he noticed an unusual flush to her skin. That should have given it away, but he was too busy enjoying seeing so much casual Scully-skin to realize. Even an hour later when he watched her scan the field, admiring her newly revealed freckles adorning the bridge of her nose, he didn’t notice.

It finally struck him when she itched her back, shifting her spaghetti strap and revealing a sliver of pale, porcelain skin; Scully was getting an atrociously bad sunburn. He didn’t really know what to say. There wasn’t really anything they could do about it in that moment, and he didn’t really want her to be mad at him in that moment, they were having such a good time. Retrospectively, he wanted to smack himself, but he just continued flirting with her as they watched the cornfield. They stayed out in the sun for another hour, practically pouring sweat, and that wasn’t even the worst part.

Around three thirty, they finally saw a shady man appear. They slowly made there way to him as he packed up his bag, “Excuse me, are you Jeremiah Morgan?”

The man whipped around, revealing all the pesticides in his bag, before throwing it at them and running into the field. They both grabbed their guns and ran into the field, not immediately realizing that wasn’t the brightest thing to do. Mulder had the advantage of being a bit taller than the corn was at this stage of growth, so he could see the man’s trail as he ran. Eventually, he caught up with him when they burst out the other side of the field, tackling him to the ground.

He eased up on his knees and got his handcuffs out of his back pockets. “Jeremiah Morgan, you are under arrest for damaging private property and endangering public health. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in-” Mulder trailed off as he noticed red lashes along his forearms. He pulled Morgan up to his feet and saw the man was untouched, being he was covered in detasseling gear.

The man caught him as he examined the other part of his arm, “What? Ya run full force through a corn field with no protective gear on, and ya didn’t expect ta git corn rash?” the man drawled.

“What’s corn rash?” Mulder asked curiously, seeing that some areas looked like a rash whereas others looked like little cuts and abrasions.

Morgan shook his head as if he just asked the dumbest question in the world, “It’s a rash of sorts that happen when bare skin rubs against the harsh corn leaves. Or if yer an idiot and run through the field. Count yer blessin’s, at least you weren’t the short lil thang wearing a purty little dress.”

Fuck, Scully.

He followed Morgan’s amused gaze and saw her standing at the outer edge of the cornfield, embellished with a vicious sunburn and corn rash covering every area of her body. Her sundress left her arms and a good portion of her neck, chest, and back bare and it only came down to mid thigh, leaving her sandal-clad legs completely exposed. She must’ve seen Mulder had it handled, because she was focused on looking at the full situation of her condition, not yet seeing she had a few cuts on her face. God, he really felt horrible.

After everything was said and done- Morgan handed off to the local P.D, a trip to a local Farm and Fleet for Aloe Vera and Benadryl Itch Cream, a thousand apologies tumbled out of Mulder’s mouth- they were finally stumbling into their motel room hours later. They always rented two hotel rooms, just to avoid suspicion, but they’d been sharing a room ever since they got together and nothing made him happier.

“The Corn State can kiss my ass,” Scully grumbled, kicking her shoes off begrudgingly.

“Actually, Iowa’s the corn state,” at her glare he added, “But yeah, fuck Nebraska.”

She laughed lightly at his willingness to please her. “Thank god it’s not Iowa, remember that broken shower? We were dirty the whole trip,” she recalled, grimacing as she tried to raise the dress over her sore body.

“Hey,” he cooed, making his way around the bed to help her. She dropped her arms and was pliant to his touch as he slowly unzipped the back of her dress, inching close to her ear to murmur, “I happen to remember just how dirty we got in that motel. As I recall, you seemed to really enjoy it.”

He eased her straps gently down her shoulders and lowered the dress to her ankles, helping her step out of it so she was left in just her little cotton underwear. Only Scully could make Fruit of the Loom look sexy. “While that may be true, if I can’t take a bath in the next two minutes I’m seriously going to cry,” he chuckled, stepping out of her underwear. “Ah, Mulder!” she cried, giggling as he cradled her in his arms and walked to the bathroom.

“I simply can’t let that happen,” he exclaimed in mock gallantry, bending down so he could snag a plastic bag from the bed.

He discarded the bag in the sink and set Scully down on the lip of the bathtub, bending down to adjust the water and let it fill up a bit. “Mulder,” she laughed, “I’m sunburned, not incapacitated. I think I can manage.”

He pivoted on his knees so he was looking up at her cherry red face, holding back a frown when he saw a lash on her cheekbone and on her forehead. He grabbed her hands in his and kissed them gently, resing them on her bent knees as he pled, “Scully, I feel really guilty. Because of my poor planning, you look like a lobster. An attractive one, but a lobster nonetheless. Not only that, but you got some hellish Midwestern corn lashing. Please let me take care of you. You’re always so strong, please let me help you for once.”

Scully regarded him with a sweet smile as he spoke and, when he was finished, she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Mulder,” she whispered as she broke away. “You help me more than you could possibly imagine, and for the thousandth time, I don’t blame you. In fact, aside from the pain, I had a really nice time today. But, yes, you can take care of me in whatever way you see fit,” she added suggestively.

He scooped her up in his arms again before slowly lowering her into the tub, ignoring the jolt of arousal her throaty moan of relief caused. He stood up and watched her snuggle down into the water with closed eyes, a content smile playing on her lips. She looked beautiful as ever, but he had to admit, she looked pretty funny with her pale torso and flaming appendages.

He turned around and got some surprises out of the bag. “What’s that?” Scully murmured from behind him, her voice echoing off the tiled walls.

He pulled out a bag of Epsom salts and poured them into the bath, swishing his hand around in the water until it became milky and bubbly. “Well, while you were in the pharmacy, I picked up a few other essentials.”

“Pray tell.”

“I got some Epsom salts, for your bath,” he said, holding up the empty bag before tossing it in the corner.

“Mmm,” she hummed appreciatively, swishing her arms in the water so the bubbles danced over her creamy breasts.

He dragged his eyes away from the erotic sight, clearing his throat as he pulled his next suprise out. “I bought some honey vanilla candles,” he informed as he lit them, placing them on various ledges along the bathroom until her skin was illuminated by the candles glow and the faint aroma permeated the air.

“Very nice,” she cooed appreciatively.

“Aaaand, last but not least,” there was a loud pop and Scully raised her head a little bit to see what he was doing. “A mini bottle of champagne to help you relax,” he laughed as he poured it into a ninety-nine cent, plastic champagne flute he bought.

“Mulder, you really didn’t have to do all this,” she smiled, accepting the champagne from him.

He leaned in over the bath and kissed her, “I know, but you deserve it.” A shy smile tugged on her lips and she looked away, taking a drink of her champagne. He did that to her all the time now, showing her love and telling her it was what she deserved. Scully was so hard on herself, and, to him, she deserved the world. Especially after all it had put her through. She was better at accepting it now, and he wasn’t sure if it was her realizing she deserved the best, or her being comfortable enough with him to know she didn’t have to put up her strong defenses and allowing him to treasure her. He hoped it was both.

She relaxed into the tub and he walked out to grab her toiletry bag. He grabbed her body wash, shampoo, conditioner, and a towel before returning to her. He got on his knees behind her head, grabbed a plastic cup from the counter, and started pouring water through her hair, getting it wet before he started washing her hair, smiling at the little sounds of pleasure she made as his fingernails scraped against her scalp.

After half an hour, the champagne was gone, his clothes were soaked, and Scully was squeaky-clean, happy as can be. He stood up and discarded his pants and shirt, leaving him in just his boxers as he grabbed a towel. He offered her his hand to help her stand up before wrapping the terry cloth gently around her, picking her up once more. This time she simply relaxed in his arm and placed little kisses on his throat, nipping playfully at his adams apple.

He was insanely hard from giving her a bath and they both damn well knew it.

He sat her down gently on the bed and he reached into the other bag to grab the various ointments. He looked between them both before realizing he’d have to consult Dr. Scully. “Hey, do you want the Aloe Vera or the itch cream? Do I put them both on?”

She let the towel flutter open on the bed, revealing her shining supple skin. From the way her nipples were protruding and the glisten that was only present on her inner thighs, she was equally as affected from their bathroom endeavour. She leaned back on the bed, resting her weight on her palms, “Aloe Vera on the burns, that hurts worst, just put the itch cream on top of my arms additionally, that’s the only area that itches uncomfortably.”

He smiled and took the plastic cap off the green bottle. He decided he’s go top to bottom and he put a small little glob on his fingers. She was looking at him with adoration as he brought the dollop to her face, rubbing it in with gentle circles across the taut red skin of her face.

He continued the same pattern on her neck, her upper chest, upper back, arms, and legs. Everywhere that was red, adding some to his own reddened face and forearms for good measure. He set the half empty bottle on the nightstand and poured a dollop of Benadryl into his palms, rubbing it between his hands before spreading it over her arms.

She watched him like a hawk the whole time, he felt her eyes on him and it didn’t help lessen his throbbing arousal. Though, neither did caressing almost every inch of her body. He took a step back and looked her over. “Did I miss anything?”

She reached her arms out in an attempt to grab him. He gave her his hand and let out a surprised yelp as she unexpectedly tugged him down, his body falling clumsily on her. Before he could say anything she wrapped her legs around him and playfully rubbed her nose against his. “Yes you did. You missed some very important areas,” she rasped huskily.

He bit back a moan as she ground her bare crotch into the tent of his pants. He could feel how hot and wet she was from the way she instantly dampened his boxers. “S-Scully,” he stammered, trying to regain a semblance of composure. “I don’t want to hurt you, you’re so burned.”

He was so focused on having an ounce of control, that it was easy for her to shift their weight so she was resting on top of him. She leaned over him and grabbed his hands, pinning them above his head and giving him a fantastic view of her tits. “Muhlder,” she moaned, drawing out his name as she rocked against him. He was so fucking hard right now, he swore all his blood was in his cock.

She leaned down so her head was a few inches away from his, so close that her breath tickled his lips, “You’ve been so good to me,” another roll of her hips. “I want to make you feel as good as you’ve made me feel.” God, he loved it when she used that tone on him. Her voice dropped lower than he imagined it could and she sounded like audible sex. She was such a seductress. He was so lucky.

She released his hands temporarily and reached between them to tug his boxers down, he knew she loved feeling his skin slap against her. He raised his hips to help her and, in a flash, his boxers were gone and she resumed her previous position. She ghosted her lips over hers in a tease, puckering them slightly but backing away when he tried to meet her, playfully darting her tongue out to lick his lips instead. “I promise, nothing will make me feel better than you fucking me.” She bent down again and spoke into his parted lips, “Can you do that for me?”

He imperceivably nodded before crashing his mouth against hers, lavishing her with a passionate kiss. His cock was trapped against her throbbing center and his abdomen. Everytime her tongue ran against his, she’d thrust her body, raking her wetness along his shaft. She lifted her head to break the kiss and she beamed down at him with swollen lips. “I love you so much,” she panted seriously. She went from temptress to adoring in a matter of moments and he felt like his heart could burst from how much he loves her.

He raised his hands to cup her face and gave her another chaste kiss on the lips, “Scully, I love you. You’re my everything.” This is another thing they did all the time; express love to each other like they were in a melodrama. What could they say? So many years of hiding meant they had a lot of affection to catch up on.

Scully smiled as she reached down in between them, grabbing his shaft and running it along her opening. He was practically writhing on the bed to keep himself from bucking inside her. In one sudden motion, she sank down on him and they both groaned in pleasure. This had been building up for hours and it was a sweet reunion.

He was glad he could at least grab her waist safely because not touching her was torture. He gripped her sides, lavishing the way her soft skin felt against his palms as her body slid up and down. She rested her hands on his chest as she used her knees to rock up and down, impaling herself on his engorged cock. She would raise herself up, so that only his head was in her, and she would gyrated her hips all the way down, continuing that several times as he panted under her.

“You have no idea how much seeing you like this turns me on,” she whimpered, trying not to lose her rhythm as she became desperate.

“Seeing me like what? Cock deep in you?” he asked wanting to hear her voice, to hear her talk more about what turns her on.

She grabbed his hands from her hips and dragged them up to her breasts, where they could be put to better use. He tweaked and pinched her nipples as she continued, “Y-yes,” her words already breaking up from their momentum, “I love see-ing your face when you’re f-fucking me. I love the way y-your muscles tense and your face contort in-ah, fuck,” she stopped as he added more pressure on her nipples, “-pleasure,” she moaned.

When you’re fucking me. Hearing her talk like that would forever be one of his favorite things and it made his cock ache even more than before. He couldn’t resist anymore and he started thrusting upwards into her. “God, yes Mulder, just like that, agh,” her tone was high pitched and breathy now, laced with desperation, and he knew she was close already.

They were thrusting against each other like their lives depended on it and all the stress of the day was worth it, being it brought them to this beautiful moment of release. He started rotating his hips and she screamed his name, her whole body quivering and shaking above his as she came. “Yeah, that’s it baby, cum for me,” he growled, holding her so she wouldn’t fall off him.

Pet names were new to them, the first time one slipped he thought he’d get a bullet in the leg, but instead got a blushing girlfriend and shy smile. “N-no. I like it,” she’d admitted in embarrassment. He didn’t realize until later that it turned her on. A badge of honor, a stake of claim. She was his and he was hers.

She was still pulsating around him when he started rubbing her clit. A whine of excitement left her lips as she continued bucking against him. He quickened up the pace, both of his hand and his dick and she was quickly chasing a second orgasm. God bless the non-existent refractory period of women. She reached a hand between them and kneaded his balls, making his eyes roll to the back of his head as he cried her name.

He flicked her clit just right and she gasped, spasming once more, only this time she wasn’t alone. She collapsed on him as their bodies were wracked with ecstasy, trembling slightly against one another as they came. She nuzzled her face against his neck and kissed his thudding pulse point. Enjoying the rhythm she was responsible for creating inside his body.

She fell on her side, his cock sliding out of her, and cuddled him with sleepy enthusiasm. He hooked his foot on his boxers laying forgotten on the bed and he brought them up high enough for him to grab. He leaned away from her for a moment so he could wipe away the semen leaking out of her and onto her thighs. When she was cleaned up, he wiped their mixed arousal from his shrinking cock and abdomen, throwing the boxers in the corner when he was done.

He reached down and grabbed the blankets, bringing them up around them before turning off the bedside lamp, trying not to awaken the human tomato laying on his arm. He nuzzled closer to her and whispered, “How does your body feel?” he asked, still concerned about the toll today took on her.

“Thoroughly fucked, sated, sleepy, relaxed, and surprisingly, not painful,” she murmured against the skin of his arm, not opening her eyes. She placed a lazy kiss on his arm before mumbling, “I love you,” the last word breaking a bit as she fell into sleeps embrace.

He leaned closer and kissed her forehead, “I love you too.”

Maybe Nebraska wasn’t so bad after all.

Footnote: Detassling is a shit ass job in the midwest where you literally go out in the fields and de-tassle the corn stalks. It’s torture. Also, “Nebraska Nice” used to be one of their slogans. Hope you enjoyed!!

#50 States of Sex #The X Files #The X Files Fanfic #txf ff #msr #msr smut #msr fanfiction #msr fanfic #scully #mulder #mulder and scully #50 states of sex challange

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dailyfeitan · 6 years

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Favourite interrogation tool? (aside from psychological weapons and your bare hands, of course.)

Channel Lock pliers. very versatile.

(The following is not a vignette but part of a WIP. It’s a crossover, so i hope I don’t offend anyone with my and Blue’s OTP: Feitan x Levi (AOT) but it kinda matched this ask! The work will include folks from both universes (Erwin, Jean, Hange, Chrollo, Phinks.) Warnings for implied m/m incest and one homophobic slur - Mod: Clea)

“The Ackerman gang.”

“So … are they … brothers?”

“No one knows. Some say they’re brothers, some say they’re lovers.” Erwin took a slow sip of his whisky. “Some say they’re both …”

---

It was sweltering in the warehouse. Both Levi and Feitan had shed their coats. While levi threatened and coaxed the man tied up in the chair, Feitan watched like a cat watches a mouse trapped and running around in the bottom of a trash bin.

The talking quickly devolved into fists as Levi repeatedly beat the man unconscious then threw water on him to wake him, then beat him again.

“You don’t want me to let my brother have you,” Levi hissed at last.

He was angry, Feitan could see it, and he’d be wrapping his brother’s bloody knuckles later on.

The man - impressively - refused to budge. Levi finally conceded the field to Feitan.

Both brothers shed their starched dress shirts simultaneously. Levi’s was white and sticking to him with sweat making it almost transparent. The lower left hand sleeve was dripping red. Feitan’s was black and his tank style undershirt was as well. Levi had on a plain white undershirt.

Feitan advanced on the prisoner, idly looking him over like a man staring at a dessert tray trying to decide what to eat first.

The removal of their shirts showed that both brothers were heavily tattooed. Levi had the classic Japanese Yakuza ink: cherry blossoms and Koi, Lotus and chrysanthemums from his left wrist on up and spreading over his left side, front and back.

Feitan had a traditional Chinese tattoo of a dragon over his entire back.

It made the small men look dangerous, deadly even - until they were covered up. Then the two were innocuous.

A scorpion is plain and little but some can kill you nonetheless.

Feitan, deceptively small and very pretty, who's back tattoo you couldn’t see from the front, lifted one of the man’s hands - his left - and held it gently in his own small one. The man smirked at him, clearly convinced that if Levi couldn’t get him to talk, this little faggot with his steel grey eyes under ludicrously long lashes wouldn’t have a chance.

“We gonna hold hands all night?” the man sneered from swollen lips, “Or just go ahead and fuck?’

“Depends,” Feitan said reasonably, “You tell us where books are?” He carefully covered the man’s hand with his other one.

The guy looked around, feigning boredom,

“I dunno. Dont think so,” He leered suddenly up at Feitan, “Not unless I can get that purty mouth on my co--”

Feitan broke one finger, then two, then three. He smiled benevolently as the man screamed and attempted to retrieve his mangled hand.

Feitan, deceptively small and very pretty, was also crazy strong. He had no trouble hanging on to the the struggling man’s appendage.

“We do other hand?” He asked pleasantly as the man thrashed wildly, “Or switch to toes?” He contemplated the ceiling for a second “... Maybe teeth?”

“You can’t break teeth you fucking crazy cunt!”

As if by magic, a pair of 12 inch channel lock pliers appeared in Feitan’s hand.

“I try …” he said hopefully. Behind him his brother blew out a cloud of smoke and grinned.

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four-white-trees · 6 years

Text

Hustle and Grind (part three - final)

Szilb gave DJ a rather curt send-off, but he still graciously provided the coordinates to his weapons dealer. DJ’s ship may not have been space travel-ready, but it managed to get him to a surprisingly secluded piece of Nar Shaddaa a couple thousand kilometers from Szilb’s home.

Touching his ship down at the edge of what looked like a very large junkyard, DJ prepared himself to meet with this dealer. He had a blaster but no ammo for it; nonetheless, he stuck it in its holster. When fortune favored him, DJ didn’t need ammo.

As of lately, fortune had not looked on DJ kindly. Still, fortune’s nature was change, and surely DJ was due for a change in fortune any time now.

Leaving his heavy coat in the ship, DJ stepped out of his ship and into the muggy air. He wasn’t sure he had ever stopped sweating since his sauna session with Szilb, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop sweating again. Perhaps he would gradually become a slimy slugman himself if he kept this up. The absurd thought made him smile as he walked into the junkyard.

There didn’t seem to be anyone around. No one sentient at least. Very large, slimy, ugly rodents rummaged through the metal scrap piled to the sky around the huge lot. DJ eyed several scrapped parts sticking out of the piles, recognizing them as useful for his own ship, or as rare pieces he could no doubt either use or sell for a pretty penny. Certainly this lot had to have some sort of security, even if he hadn’t encountered it yet. Nonetheless his fingers were feeling mighty sticky…

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and DJ spied a man rummaging through some scrap a few hundred yards away. He headed toward the man, but froze when he got closer and the man straightened up.

He was entirely naked. A human, his skin looked well-tanned from exposure. He was in exceptional shape, certainly not anyone DJ would want to tangle with hand-to-hand, clothed or not. The man was bald—in fact, his whole body looked pretty hairless, and he possessed a robotic right arm.

The man spotted DJ, and he approached. As he got closer, DJ saw he was young—probably half DJ’s age or more, although his skin looked to be aging prematurely.

“Whach’a want, stranger?” the man asked, his voice thick with a drawl.

DJ just met the man’s eyes and tried not to think about anything below his face. “Szilb sent-t-t me. About w-w-weapons.”

“Szilb, huh?” the man said. He put his mechanical hand to his chin in a thoughtful way. “Right, Szilb did send a message. Well. What’s yer name, stranger?”

“Call me DJ,” DJ responded.

“Call ya, huh?” the man said, eyeing DJ closely. “So that ain’t yer name?”

“It’s the name I g-g-go by,” DJ said, maintaining a light air despite all his mental alarms going off about this guy.

“Ah! I follow ya now,” the man said, smiling. It was not a comforting smile. Every tooth in his maw was sharpened to a point. “Well, then ya can call me AJ.”

“AJ. Quite a c-c-coincidence,” DJ said.

“My man, there ain’t no such thing,” AJ said, moving beside DJ and putting his robotic arm around DJ’s shoulders. “Come along now. We’ll have some ice-cold tea and we can talk about all them weapons ya want.”

They walked along the junkyard together. DJ wanted nothing more than to pull away from AJ, but AJ held him in a vice grip. Only when they had moved deeper within the junkyard to what looked like a makeshift hut built of metal sheeting did AJ release DJ.

“Don’t-t-t get many visit-t-tors, huh?” DJ asked as the nude man strode into his hut.

“Not as many as I’d’a like,” AJ called. “But the boss provides.”

DJ didn’t have time to wonder what that meant when AJ emerged from his hut holding an extremely large sledgehammer. At first DJ figured it was for busting apart scrap—until he realized AJ was swinging it at DJ’s head.

DJ dropped down, barely missing getting his head caved in, and he scrambled away. AJ was on him in a flash, moving way too fast in the humidity. DJ grabbed the shaft of the sledgehammer, grappling with AJ over it for a moment before AJ pushed DJ up against a pile of shredded sheet metal. Sharp ends pressed into DJ’s back, tearing the material of his shirt and into his skin.

AJ was bigger and heavier than DJ, and he pressed down on him more, positioning the shaft of the sledgehammer right over DJ’s throat. DJ chanced to let go of the shaft and groped behind him for the first piece of junk he could grasp. He thrust whatever it was into AJ’s shoulder, cutting his own hand in the process, but it worked—AJ howled in pain and DJ was able to push him away. DJ pulled away from the junk pile and put some distance between himself and AJ, although he didn’t dare turn his back to the madman.

AJ was panting, bright red blood oozing out of his shoulder. There was a bloody handprint on his chest where DJ pushed him, and AJ touched the handprint, licking the blood off his finger. “You taste purty good, boy,” AJ drawled. “I’ll haveta send the boss a thank-you card for ya.”

Drawing his blaster, DJ aimed it at AJ, whose eyes went to the blaster immediately. “I ain’t on th-the menu,” DJ growled. AJ dropped the sledgehammer and held his hands above his head—a rather empty gesture for someone nude, but appreciated nonetheless—but he smiled again.

“You got fight in ya,” AJ said, delighted. “I like a good fight.”

DJ knew exactly where his ship was. He saw the path they had taken clear in his mind. He just needed to get there. AJ’s smile remained in place, a creepy grin plastered onto that tan, insane face. “You’re g-g-gonna have to make new d-d-dinner plans,” DJ said, then turned tail and ran.

AJ laughed, a screaming peel of a cackle. DJ didn’t need to look behind him to know AJ was giving chase. Lungs burning, DJ ran as fast as his legs would take him, leaping over scrap metal on the ground and ducking under places where the scrap stuck out ready to behead or skewer him.

His ship came into sight, and DJ doubled down on his sprint. He heard AJ’s heavy footfalls close behind him, but he made it home. DJ jumped into his ship, slammed the hatch closed and ensured it locked. He jumped into the pilot seat, panting, black dots in his vision. He was so dizzy from exhaustion he didn’t immediately realize nothing happened when tried to power the ship on.

There was a grinding, crunching sound, and a particularly huge rodent crawled out of a vent, circuits in its drooling mouth. DJ stared at the creature for a moment, his exhausted brain catching up to the fact that his ship had been eaten from the inside.

A loud bang jolted DJ back. AJ was at the hatch, slamming that sledgehammer into it. DJ could see where the metal bent with every swing. He glanced around, his mind racing. Truth be told, DJ had “picked up” this ship from the selection of ships around the Nar Shaddaa casinos. Evidently he’d chosen a pacifist’s ship, as there was nothing in that tiny thing to use as a weapon beyond a wrench. Hardly match for a nutcase brandishing a sledgehammer.

The hatch buckled, and DJ saw AJ reach in and began to pull the metal door away. DJ was cornered, but he was not defenseless. It was immensely difficult, in such as state he was in, for DJ to focus on the energy surrounding AJ, particularly at his throat.

Somewhere in his mind, there was a part of him that felt a wave of guilt. He heard the whispers of people from a lifetime ago warning him against what he was about to do. The old mechanisms created by years of training were still there, as strong as ever.

But those people no longer existed. The person DJ used to be no longer existed. Now it was either DJ or AJ, and DJ knew there could only be one outcome to this situation.

As soon as AJ pulled that hatch off its hinges and put his bald head through the opening, DJ reached out through the Force and squeezed.

Lyra pushed that little skip as fast as it could go, and maybe even faster. It had been hours since DJ left. In all likelihood, the Butcher had already had his way with him. Her stomach tightened at the thought. She had to hold onto the hope that DJ was as much of a survivor as he always boasted of being.

She had become suspicious when she had observed Szilb composing a message to his nephew Ungu. He had recorded it in Huttese, and Lyra had picked up enough of it to know he wasn’t talking about securing the weapons Ungu had asked for.

After Szilb had retired for the night, Lyra wormed her way into his computer. Funnily enough, the techniques she had used to bypass the security protocols were things she had picked up from DJ over time. She had managed to find the coordinates Szilb had given to DJ.

Szilb had sent DJ right to the Butcher’s doorstep.

The Butcher was Szilb’s go-to man for anyone he wanted taken care of. Lyra had no idea where Szilb had met such an extremely insane and dangerous person, but anyone Szilb sent to the junkyard never came back.

The junkyard was in view, and Lyra only gunned the engines of the skip more. It shuddered a little but held steady as she scanned for lifeforms on the ground. She found one human one, unmoving, on the very edge of the junkyard.

Lyra had bounded out of the ship almost before it touched down. There was DJ’s ship, she saw, and in the shade of it, DJ himself sitting with his back to her. She rushed to his side, and she discovered him chowing down on some extremely foul-smelling meat.

Backing away, she cried, “What the hell are you eating?!”

DJ shrugged. “Dunno what-t-t they’re called,” he said nonchalantly between bites. “But this one at-t-te my ship, so I’m just ret-t-turnin’ the favor.”

Glancing around, Lyra said, “We should get out of here.”

“Worried?” DJ asked, looking up at her. Lyra shook her head, but DJ knew she was lying. “We don’t-t-t gotta hurry,” he said, then nodded to his ship. “See for yourself.”

Lyra looked at the hatch, or what had been the hatch of the ship. It looked as if it had been peeled off with a giant can opener. Just inside she saw a pair of bare tan legs dangling out, motionless. She gasped. “Is he…?”

DJ only chuckled in response. “The b-b-back meat ain’t too bad,” DJ said, holding up some of that reeking meat to her.

Lyra felt faint. “I’ll wait in the ship,” she said, and she slowly retreated back to her skip. When she got to the hatch, DJ sat up on his knees to look at her.

“Hey, Lyra,” he said, getting her attention. “We’re square now, yeah?” For a moment, Lyra wasn’t sure what he was talking about. But she quickly recalled when he said, “Cuz I sure as hell ain’t-t-t getting’ p-p-paid enough for this.”

#star wars #star wars the last jedi #dj #don't join

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rootbeergoddess · 7 years

Text

Booksmarts

A self-insert commission for @proustianrecall . The reader is a librarian and Yondu has happened to fall for them. Like this story? Leave me a tip here.

“Y/N, guess who's here? It’s your boyfriend!”

Sighing, you rolled your eyes as you placed the last few books on the self. The robotic assistant rolled the cart away when you were finished. Sorass was smiling at you and you rolled your eyes again.

“For the last time, Yondu is not my boyfriend Sorass.”

“If that is true, then why does he come here just to see you? I mean he never checks out books,” Sorass said. “And he always asks for you. I’ve even heard him call you a ‘purty lil’ thang.’”

“So? He thinks you’re pretty too.”

“But he doesn’t talk about me constantly.”

“He doesn’t talk about me.”

“He sure does! Go get some of that pirate beefcake!”

“I’m ignoring you now Sorass!”

You put up the rest of the books before heading to the elevator. Working at the Intergalactic Library was a busy job but you loved it. It had been your dream to work there and now you were. The most interesting people came to visit the library too. Yondu Udonta was probably one of the most interesting people who came to visit.

Almost everybody in the galaxy knew about Yondu Udonta. He was one of the Ravagers captains but that wasn’t what made him so interesting. Along with being on the last Centurians he also had a very special weapon. It was a slim, silver arrow that responded to his whistle. It was deadly accurate and Yondu had acquired a large body count. Going up against him was a fool’s errand.

You found it odd he visited the library. Ravagers weren’t big readers. Every time Yondu visited, he would check out a book but it would always be something random. The first time he came by, he checked out a book about the art of bee keeping. Since when did Ravagers keep bees? Where would they keep the bees anyway? A ship was no place to raise them. Then, he once got a book that was all about the history of Jutraolian basket weaving. A random choice and you were very certain Ravagers didn’t weave baskets.

Your friends would tease you, saying Yondu came to the library for you and you alone. Of course, you thought they were crazy. Yondu was a Ravager. Not just any Ravager but one of the captains. He was famous. Many women wanted him and probably a few men did as well. So why on Earth would be interested in you? You were just a lowly librarian. You had nothing to offer him and he probably found you boring.

Still, it was a nice thought.

You reached the first floor and sure enough, there was Yondu waiting for you. His hand was behind his back and when he saw you, he grinned.

“Hello Mr. Udonta,” You said, returning his smile. “How nice to see you again.”

“C’mon Y/N, how come ya never call me Yondu? I ain’t no mister.”

“You’re a guest at the library.”

“Still, I’m just Yondu. Don’t need to act so fancy for me,” He said. “Oh, lookit.”

Yondu pulled out bouquet from behind his back. You gasped when you saw the flowers. They were the famous Niamian moonflowers. They were a lovely silver hue that sparkled in the light and each day, the petals would open up, releasing the most wonderful aroma known to man or alien kind. Just last week, you were reading a book about Niamian culture and when you read the flowers, you wished you could see one up close.

“Where did you get these?” You asked, gingerly taking the flowers. “Oh, they’re gorgeous! I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life!”

“Got them at Niamia of course.”

“Oh, these are lovely! But--who are they for? Oh, I bet you got these for Chobvan! She’ll love them.”

“Nope, didn’t get them for her.”

“Oh--then you bought these for Pavone! Let me go and get her.”

“Nah. They’re not for her either.”

“Um--are they for S'Kamoquor?”

“Wrong again.”

“Taule? Eshal? Sorass?”

“Nope, nope and nope.”

“But those are all the women who work here,” You paused. “Well there is me of course but---oh.”

Your face suddenly felt hot. Yondu had been coming to the library just to see you. You remembered that last week, he had overheard you talking about the flowers and he even checked out the book you had been reading. How could you not have realized that? He went all the way to Niamia to these flowers for you. Not only was Niamia far away but it was also home to a people who shared a cult like hivemind. They worshiped these flowers and considered them a gift from their god. Getting these flowers must have been a hassle.

“Niamia is dangerous. You could have gotten hurt or worse.”

“Eh, it wasn’t too bad,” Yondu shifted slightly. “All I gots was some maniac who swung his ax at me. I was fine until he got me in the ribs.”

“He what!?”

Glancing down, you saw Yondu was holding his side. Oh god, he came straight from the planet! He didn’t even stop to get healed! Fear filled you as your grabbed his hand and saw his jacket was soaked with blood. Gasping, you grabbed his hand and ran to where you kept the first aid kit. Placing the flowers to the side, you opened up the box and started to rummage around. Yondu just watched you work, saying nothing.

“You’re going to have to take your jacket and shirt off.”

“Already want me nekkid? Damn, you don’t mess around.”

“I’m not letting you die in the library,” You responded. “Jacket and shirt off please.”

Yondu obeyed. Once his jacket was off, you saw the wound. It wasn’t deep but it still needed to be cleaned. Taking out of a cotton ball, you wet it with some rubbing alcohol before starting to clean the wound. Yondu winced slightly but he let you wipe away the deep, blue blood. He probably would need stitches but you bandaged him up well.

“I’m not a doctor so you’re going to probably want to head off to a clinic so they can sew you up,” You said. “God, are all Ravagers as reckless as you are?”

“Eyup.”

“Well next time, think before you do something so dangerous!” You paused. “I do appreciate the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“They’re not as purdy as you are.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? Tellin’ the truth?”

“I’m serious, stop it,” You were blushing. “Don’t you have another girl to chase.”

“Nah,” Yondu sniffed. “None are interestin’ and cute as you.”

“Oh my god, do you have an off switch?” You laughed.

“Maybe. I could show ya.”

“Is that your weird way of asking me out?” You asked.

“Possibly,” Yondu took your hand. “Y/N, I like ya. Like a lot. You’re purdy as a picture, funny and smart. Now I know I ain’t book smart like you are but I could try to make you happy in my own weird way. So what do you say?”

“Hm, I guess I could do worse,” You said with a shrug. “However ,if I am going to be your girlfriend, I have one thing you have to promise me.”

“Name it sugar.”

“No more going to dangerous planets and stealing flowers!” You said, poking his head.

“Awwwww. Okay, fine, I promise,” He grinned. “So do I get a kiss for being so brave?”

#Rootbeer Writes #Guardians of the Galaxy #Yondu #Yondu x Reader #Yondu Udonta #Self Insert

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writings-by-chance · 6 years

Text

The Aftermath, Part II

As the students filed outside, I stepped a bit out of the way and pulled out a little cigar. My Zippo ignited the dry tobacco, and I looked around: at least 7 other students were all lighting up before heading out. I smiled. There were easily more smokers now than before the Outbreak, and that was despite the population loss. Hell, tobacco was valued more than any other commodity, except maybe food or ammo. But if you had a decent amount of all three? You were a modern millionaire. At least I could make mine last longer, since I refused to take on the habit-forming nicotine-laden ones. Still, some people condemned it, not so much for it’s lack of health properties, but they claimed it attracted zombies to the smell. I don’t know one way or the other, but it sure beat trying to find a can of chew.

I watched the smoke curl up into the waning sunlight as I sauntered past the smoldering bodies to my old Jeep. It was over 15 years old, but still ran like a champ, especially considering the undead “terrain”. I chuckled. My dad thought buying this rig, plus the brush guard & winch, was a waste of money. “Just sell it!” he’d tell me. “You don’t need that, get something with better gas mileage!” I don’t know if he ever realized the irony when my parents abandoned his car in favor of my mom’s 15 MPG truck during the Outbreak. Taking one last pull on the cigar, I crushed the smoldering butt underfoot and climbed into the rig, turning the key slightly to engage the battery. The drive would be uneventful, at least up til the Hedge… At which point, well, if you were one of the people crazy or stubborn enough to live outside the Hedge, you’d better keep a round chambered at all times, and be one hell of a shot from a moving vehicle. Since my long, heavy FAL wasn’t exactly conducive to firing & driving, I stowed the old girl on the rack in my back window, and pulled out my other pride & joy: a Polish Draco AK-variant, which I slid into a holster of sorts along my driver’s door. Flicking on the CB radio over my head, I turned the ignition all the way & started the engine. I double checked my frequency, pulled the mic from the ceiling, and rolled out of the parking lot. “Anybody got a traffic report for me? Headin’ northeast from the Hedge.” I called out over the radio. “Maven? That you?” I recognized Bash’s voice right away. One of the few people in the county bigger than my own 6′ 3″ frame, he earned his nickname by supposedly using one zombie to beat off the rest of the horde until help arrived, and the zombie-turned-weapon’s head was bashed completely inside of its ribcage. Whether it was true or not, I didn’t want to find out, though Bash was peaceful enough around the living.

“Yeah, it’s me. Just busted outta class & I’m headin’ to pick up Pond.” I’m not sure why we still used callsigns over the radio, since there was no need to be stealthy, but the radio world knew Pond was Rosaline, my girlfriend. “Aw, shucks, Maven! Date night? And you didn’t invite me?” Bash teased, with his light accent coming out. “C’mon, you know I can’t afford that Texas-sized appetite of yours, Bash!” He laughed. “Fair ’nuff, man. Zed’s purty heavy, if you’re truckin’ southeast, but looks like there’s a–” He paused. “Well, a good sized chunk startin’ to migrate north. If ya’ll hurry, you should beat ’em to your Zone.” I clicked my radio. “Thanks, Bash. We’ll kick it up a notch then!”

I hung the CB back up, ignoring the rest of the idle chatter from others getting reports from the Hedge, and focusing on getting to Rosaline’s quarters. They weren’t the best of accommodations, being so close to the Hedge, but at least they were private and relatively quiet, so long as the zombies — Zed over the radio — kept their distance. I pulled up to the complex, what used to be an industrial office building converted to makeshift apartments, parked, and got out. To the east, you could see the Hedge from here, running along the top of the hill like the Great Wall of China. I knocked on the door & let myself in.

#writings by chance #the aftermath story

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