Mature Prompt Post #1
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wanderoverpromptsHey all! As with all things there are a few rules. Nothing too restricting I feel and many of them are in the best interest of others. So lets get to the rules.
1. The prompts must involve Wander over Yonder in some way. Crossovers are fine though as long as Wander over Yonder is one of the fandoms.
2.Anything is allowed. Slash, Het, femmeslash, three somes, whatever. Which leads to the next rule...
3.No kink bashing! Yeah, there may be one or two prompts that will squick you (I'm sure the same will happen with me.) but lets all play nice here.
4. Please post your prompts in the appropriate prompt post. Prompts involving oc's go to the oc prompt post, mature rated ones to the mature prompt post, and safe for work ones in the safe for work prompt post. If you're not sure what post your prompt belongs to, contact me.
5. When posting it's preferred if you put the pairing (or if a gen prompt put in gen.) and kink or a summery phrase of what you're prompting into the subject box. Also put in any possible triggers as warning.
The body of the post of course will be the prompt.
6. You may use anon if you like. Or not. It's your call.
7. Multiple fills are encouraged.
8. You can prompt as much as you want. It is encouraged you do some fills though to be nice.
9. Please tag for spoilers. A spoiler is considered something in a episode that recently shown up until a week. So pretty much each new episode based prompt needs some indication that the prompts contain spoilers until a week since it's premiere on t.v.
MATURE PROMPT POST SPECIAL RULES
This post is exclusively for mature based prompts. Anything goes. All the pairings, all the kinks, go for it. I must repeat one of our core rules here. NO KINK BASHING.
1. The prompts must involve Wander over Yonder in some way. Crossovers are fine though as long as Wander over Yonder is one of the fandoms.
2.Anything is allowed. Slash, Het, femmeslash, three somes, whatever. Which leads to the next rule...
3.No kink bashing! Yeah, there may be one or two prompts that will squick you (I'm sure the same will happen with me.) but lets all play nice here.
4. Please post your prompts in the appropriate prompt post. Prompts involving oc's go to the oc prompt post, mature rated ones to the mature prompt post, and safe for work ones in the safe for work prompt post. If you're not sure what post your prompt belongs to, contact me.
5. When posting it's preferred if you put the pairing (or if a gen prompt put in gen.) and kink or a summery phrase of what you're prompting into the subject box. Also put in any possible triggers as warning.
The body of the post of course will be the prompt.
6. You may use anon if you like. Or not. It's your call.
7. Multiple fills are encouraged.
8. You can prompt as much as you want. It is encouraged you do some fills though to be nice.
9. Please tag for spoilers. A spoiler is considered something in a episode that recently shown up until a week. So pretty much each new episode based prompt needs some indication that the prompts contain spoilers until a week since it's premiere on t.v.
MATURE PROMPT POST SPECIAL RULES
This post is exclusively for mature based prompts. Anything goes. All the pairings, all the kinks, go for it. I must repeat one of our core rules here. NO KINK BASHING.
Hater/Wander, dub con, Trapped Wander
Date: 2013-09-02 08:38 am (UTC)The longer he's trapped the more desperate Wander becomes. Desperate enough that he offers to do anything if it will buy him and Sylvia freedom. Hater takes him up the offer, intending to break Wander with what he has planned.
Hater/Wander, non con, *spoilers*
Date: 2013-09-04 03:34 am (UTC)As normal Wander is brought before Hater. Though slightly annoyed by Wander at first he decides to keep Wander as a pet. The first thing he does is show how much control he has over his new pet.
[FILL] Make You Hurt (Hater/Wander, dubcon) 1/2
Date: 2013-09-04 08:40 pm (UTC)By the fifth hour of Wander yelling his name from the bowls on his dungeon, Lord Hater was sick of keeping him prisoner. Which was probably the master plan, his commander tried to remind him; on his own, Wander was already one of the most distracting things Hater had ever found in the galaxy but when he was really trying to to get someone's attention, he took on a whole new level of irritation. Count to ten, Peepers had fought to say before being literally thrown out of the cell block by the bolt decoration of his helmet. The few Watchdogs on guard had scattered under his glare.
Then he turned to the barred door of the little alien, leaned down to eye level, and hissed: “WHAT.”
Wander pulled back from the bars just enough to gain his personal space and tried to smile up at him. The attempt was a bit strained, Hater noticed with pleasure. Finally, some proper respect from the little twerp.
“I know you're busy and all, Hater, but it's been a long while since you were down here. You even locked the door.” Wander fidgeted within his cell, and slipped one hand out to waggle the padlock for emphasis. “I didn't want you to forget I was down here.”
“That exactly what I'm trying to do!” Hater snarled, using the very best of his ability to loom over the prison and cast a shadow that blotted out the light behind him from his captive's viewpoint. Wander leaned back but didn't retreat, and in frustration one skeletal set of claw grabbed hold of Wander's outside arm and yanked him into the heavy metal of the door. He connected hard, the clang long and satisfying and accompanied by a yelp of pain. When Hater let go, the small arm slid from his grip and Wander landed in an obvious daze. “I put you in here so that I never have to think about you again.”
Wander looked most offended than anything, though his eyes were still somewhat unfocused. “Well, that's just rude. Why would you invite someone over just to ignore them?”
“IT'S NOT AN INVITATION!” Hater's fists closed around the bars and he shook the whole door's frame, “You're CAUGHT. I CAUGHT you! You're a PRISONER. For Glorb's sake, I PUT YOU IN CHAINS.”
Wander's gaze dropped to the shackles around his wrists and ankles that connected each pair of limbs to their partner, as if he was only just noticing that they existed. Truthfully, Hater couldn't remember them impeding the little blight's movement in the slightest. He had still been ridiculously hard to keep in Watch Dog custody, and giving him into the cell had been a nightmare. At least his stupid mount had been unconscious, or they'd have never managed.
“Hater, I really don't think this is a great time for us to be visiting.” Wander shuffled his feet and plucked at the keyhole of the chains. “You're not in a very good mood and it's not any fun just sitting alone in a room all day. I think Sylvia and I should leave.”
“You don't get to leave.” Hater lowered his voice to the hollow, raspy whisper he'd been practicing. It was perfect for death threats and establishing that he was a no-holds-barred, merciless villain. You had to take heartless, scary whispers from shadowed overlords seriously. It was practically a rule of the universe. “You're going to stay in there, quiet and alone, forever. And I never have to worry about you ruining everything ever again.”
He moved in a swift arc that made his cloak billow—oh, he had to do that more often, it looked amazing—and turned to the door. In less than two steps, while he was congratulating himself on finally getting it through the stupid thorn-in-his-side's thick skull who was what around here, he was halted by his name being outright wailed from the cell at his back.
“WHAT?!” He snapped, whirling about-face. Upon looking, he found that Wander had all but scalled the barred door, and was looking outright panicked. His long fingers were grasping the bars with the sort of desperation that any normal alien would have been showing hours ago. It made something warm settle in the cavity within his ribs.
“You can't just—I can't stay down here!” Wander's expression was positively miserable. Hate could have clicked his heels together. Finally things were going right! “You can't leave me!”
“Goodbye, Wander.” If it came out more snotty than vaguely ominous, Hater didn't care. He took great pleasure in slamming the door behind him hard enough to shake the entire room. And he turned away and tried not to skip on the way back to his throne. “And good riddance.”
Wander did not stop calling for him until another six hours had passed.
Which didn't mean too much, because Hater had finally found his earbuds, and nothing helped drown out the incessant cries of the imprisoned like a heavy dose of very loud guitar riffs. And maybe a dash of celebratory pop music. Just as something for him to victory dance to. Besides, the majority of Wander's yells had become somewhere between frightened and despairing. It had woken up his mount a few times, but the Zbornak metabolism ensured that one good dose of sedative kept her too groggy to do more than tiredly bat at her guards before she passed out again.
By the following day, Hater was outright enjoying the peace and quiet, and had even informed the Watch Dogs that he was going to go and have a look-in to see how broken their prisoner was now. Surely after all that time alone, it had sunk in that he was never going to escape.
His good mood soured when he walked in on Wander fighting to work the internal mechanism of the lock with a bent fork he must have picked up from somewhere, but Hater couldn't guess since no food had been down here. Prisoners ate on every other Wednesday only.
The lock clicked open and Wander had just enough time to give a hoot of triumph and drop down to take advantage. Hater was there already and had wrenched the door open before Wander could even reach for the handle. In a moment, he had the much smaller traveler by the throat and a good two feet off the ground.
“Did I not make myself clear?!”
He was roaring in the small alien's face, but for good measure Hater gave his captive a forceful shake that had Wander clutching at him in an attempt to steady himself. Enraged that he'd presume to fight punishment, the overlord threw Wander as hard as he could, back toward the far wall of the little prison room. He yanked the door shut behind him, and pocketed the recently opened padlock. Then he moved across the cell to stand in front of the heap of fur and flesh.
Wander was already working to get his hands steady and his face out of the thin layer of filth on the hard floor. Hater gave him a good kick that flipping him onto his back and left the metal of the wall ringing where Wander's shackles connected to it. The wide, always-expressive eyes screwed shut tightly and when they opened again, the one on the left was a few seconds out of sync with the right. Wander tried to squint up at his captor, but a noise of pain escaped him and he screwed his face up. The eyes shut again, covered by the chained fists rubbing to clear and focus them.
“You. Don't. Leave.” Hater sneered, agitated by the way that Wander was seeming to ignore him despite being manhandled. When he got no response, Hater closed the whole of one clawed hand over the top of Wander's face and rubbing fists, lifted him up, and slammed him back into the ground. Wander's cry was far louder this time, but never than speak, he curled up tightly around where he was held and tensed. Waiting for more abuse or to be let go. Hater tossed him back to the ground, disgusted. “You don't escape. You sit there. You rot!”
Wander didn't move.
His eyes were open however, and they were staring at the still unlocked door.
They were hopeful.
Hater scowled.
“You aren't listening!” He struck out with the back of his hand this time, and Wander didn't see it coming. The small alien hit the wall again, the brunt of the impact taken by the side of his head, and Hater may have imagined the little crack! that followed, but he relished it all the same. Wander's arms gave out twice while he tried to push himself back up, and Hater enjoyed that a great deal as well. “I make the rules in here.”
He crouched down and felt along the wall. It took a moment, but the chains were still there. He followed the third shortest one, unlooped it from where it had been draped around the hook that attached it to the wall, and bent down to closed the shackle around Wander's pliant throat.
Wander said nothing.
“You're stuck here forever.” Hater said, letting energy course through his glove, and when he dragged it over the keyhole, the metal fused together. The lock hissed and little sparks flew out, burying themselves in orange fur, and Wander flinched away but was unable to go far. “Because I said so.”
Hater rose to his feet again and smirked, feeling much better now that the cell was quiet except for Wander's pained breaths. As an after thought, he reached out to pluck the ever present hat from his prisoner's head; knowing Wander, the fork had been hidden inside. Hater couldn't think of why they'd let him keep it in the first place. Wander sat upright in a jolt and tried tho grab for Hater's retreating figure, no doubt trying to recover his hat, and Hater couldn't resist dangling it out of reach as he moved away.
“WAIT.”
The first word Wander had said the entire time since Hater had come down, and the conqueror wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel annoyed or gratified. It sounded so afraid.
When he looked but, he decided on a mix of both.
And a dash of being quite smug.
“What?”
“Please. Please.” Wander's eyes were flickering from the hat to the door that Hater's free hand now rested on. He'd already scrambled to the end of the chain, halted somewhere in the middle of the room and pulling the heavy metal taut as he fought to make it one step further. “Don't leave me, don't go, Hater you can't leave me.”
“I can do anything I want now! You can't stop me now!” Hater crowed, he stepped back into the room, letting each foot hit the ground with the whole of his body weight behind it. It was an odd series of stomping that let him crowd Wander's space, but though the smaller alien began to retreat at first, Wander seemed to recover all too quickly. He tangled his hands in the black of Hater's lower robes and held on.
“Please, please, please.” Wander buried his face into the cloth. “I'm sorry I wasn't talking I was angry please don't leave me don't here again—”
Hater faltered.
The silent treatment. All of that work, and the little glipstain was giving him the gob-sucking silent treatment.
“—I was scared I was just upset I don't want to be in here anymore—”
He didn't get it. He still didn't get it. After hours, after a full day locked up in a cell, he couldn't think before two friends having some sort of petty spat and he was expecting them to just make up over it. As if Lord Hater, the Greatest In All The Galaxy, The Number One Super Star, Ruler-To-Be of the Entire universe...was just a friend of his who he could wheedle freedom from with an apology and a few tears.
No, no, no no no nonononoNO.
GLORN DANGIT, NO.
Hater shoved him away, his temper flaring up more than ever. Wander cringed back, all misery and sniffles, and that wasn't good enough because was still watching the door behind Hater. He still look more sorry than anything else, and as long as Wander had some glimmer, some small belief that they were friends and that Hater was nice or liked him or some other insipid bit of nonsense, then he was never going to get it. Hater would never be rid of it.
“I'll do anything.” Wander got out, before Hater could start to yell, and he faltered.
“...anything?”
Wander nodded, suddenly much more vibrant, much more eager. He was sitting upright ad all his ruffled fur had become puffed up in anticipation. “Anything! I know we haven't been getting along too good here lately, and I want to show I'm sorry for my part in it. I'm up for anything!”
Hater tried to think. He had to think like a superstar, like a villain. He had to be in control. He had to be ruthless and terrible and something that couldn't be bargained with. A force to be reckoned. Something Wander seemed to have trouble getting his head around while he looked for the good in him. He had to be merciless.
It was like someone turned on a lightbulb in his head.
Of course.
The problem was that Wander still trusted him.
Still thought of him as a friend.
He grinned.
[FILL] Make You Hurt (Hater/Wander, dubcon) 2/2
Date: 2013-09-04 08:42 pm (UTC)Wander blinked, looking uncertain. “A game?”
“A game.”
“...not that I don't love games, Hater, but...are you sure there's room?” Wander peered around the small cell, obviously lookin for some sort of hidden space he'd missed the day prior. Hater tried not to roll his eyes.
“There's plenty of room.” He snapped, impatient.
“Okay.” Wander's eyes went back to him. “What are we playing then? Cards? I don;t have a deck, though...checkers maybe? I'm really good at checkers.” Hater tugged at the edges of his hood, and tried to supress the urge to turn his energy bolts on his prisoner and be done with it. That tactic always ended poorly, and he didn't have any proof that the chains wouldn't be just as much of a problem as an aid.
“We're not playing any of that.” He growled, fighting to keep his tone light. “We're gonna play a special game. I made it up.”
“Oh!” Wander looked delighted, as if they were going to share something special between them. “Alright! How do you play?”
“You sit there.” Hater responded, proud of himself. Wander immediately plopped onto the floor—the picture of obedience. “For thirty minutes. I do whatever I want. You're not allowed to stop me.”
“Oh. Odd game...” Wander mulled it over. “But how do you win?”
“By not doing anything.” Hater said. “If you move, or try to run off, or do anything, then you lose. If you don't, then you get to leave.” Wander hmmed and hummed for a moment, rubbing his chin in thought, pulling at the three little hairs there and squinting his eyes.
“Can I breathe?”
I wish you wouldn't. “Yes.”
“Can I talk?”
I obviously can't stop you. “Yes.”
“Can I blink—?”
“FOR GLON'S SAKE.” Hater's voice hit a pitch that might have shattered glass if there'd been any nearby. “Just stand there and don't do anything!”
“Ooookie-dokie.” Cheery as ever, Wander brought his heels to attention with an audible click, interwove the fingers of his bound hands, and smiled widely up at the overlord. “When do we start?”
“Now.” Hater said. His glove raised, energy crackling around the yellow fabric, and he fired off a shot meant to hit Wander directly in the stomach. Meant to, because Wander was suddenly two feet back and staring down at the scorch mark on the floor with no small amount of apprehension.
“Uh. Hater—”
“I told you not to move!” Hater bellowed,trying another swipe at his prisoner—who was on the other side of him in another blink, and his claws sailed through empty space. “Get back here! Dodging is doing something!”
“But—”
“Stand. STILL.”
Wander stopped dodging just in time for a wild flail to connect and send him tumbling across the floor. He rolled back to his feet, teetered a moment, and frowned. “Hater, if you zap me, I can't play. That's not very smart! I'd never last thirty minutes if you go around spewing lightning at me!” He frowned. “This game needs better rules.”
“The rules are fine!”
“No, no. They're too uneven. What about no lasers?” Wander looked proud of himself. “If you can get me to move with no lasers, then that's a way better game. Lasers make it too easy.”
Hater raised his arms, only to realize that Wander was standing between him and the door. One well aimed jolt backwards would send him through the unlocked bars and out into the corridor—straight to freedom. He groaned and rubbed his temples. Wander hadn't noticed yet, and as long as they were...playing...he probably wouldn't.
“Fine. Fine.” Hater said, his shoulders hunched under the weight of his rage. “Just get back over here.”
Wander left no time to waste, scampering back to where he'd been, and only then did Hater realize that at some point, the chain around his neck was no longer there. It should have been, he had melted that glorn-knobbed lock shut and everything, and the neck-ring had been too small for Wander to just slip out of it. It should have stopped him running around too far in the cell, should have kept him from nearly escaping! With a shout of utter fury, he reached out and snatched for the little traveler, hefting him up by one leg and shaking him.
“How did you do that?!” He roared, shaking the whole of Wander's thin frame while in the throes of his fit. At first, he didn't notice the way Wander's face contorted, or how rather than let himself be flailed about, he was clinging to Hater's arm with a strength that Hater had only seen used to beat him in arm wrestling.
“...h..Hater...can you let go?” Wander manages to get out, though his voice was barely audible.
“NO!” Hater had a handle on things now, and he wasn't stupid. This was an advantage, he just needed to figure out how. “How'd you get your neck chain off?! You are such a pain!”
“My ankle—”
“Shut up!” He didn't slam Wander to the ground, but he was none to gentle about putting him back on it. Wander gave a little off, and a wriggle, eyes darting all about the empty cell in visible discomfort. Hater tightened his grip, and relished the way tiny hands scrabbled over the bone of his arm.
“Hater. Hater.”
Wander was shaking. Even under the thick layer of red-orange fur, it could be felt. Hater grinned, because he'd found something good, something that obviously hurt and that meant they were making progress. If Wander wouldn't hold still long enough to let himself be blasted into oblivion, then maybe Hater could settle for doing enough damage that afterward Wander wouldn't even be able to escape. Maybe, even if he tried to say he'd won, Hater could leave him again. Breaking a promise was a very evil thing to do. Friends didn't break promises. Villains did.
Villains broke anything they could get their hands on.
He squeezed, and a little gasp followed. Wander tried to push him away, and couldn't find the leverage from the floor.
“Not there!” Wander twisted, over, and Hater let him for a moment before he dug the sharp tips of his claws into the skin beneath all the hair, and this time Wander's whole back arched up and Wander hid his face in the floor. Hater could see him biting down on his bottom lip to hold back more noise. Just to see how awful the pain must be—maybe Wander would cry, that would be the best thing of all—Hater dug the ball of one thumb in just behind the bony protrusion of Wander's ankle and rolled it.
The only word for the sound that Wander made was a sob. His hands flew from the metal floor to Hater's wrist and back again; at one point, a single one clasped over him mouth at tried to hold the sound back. He could practically feel the little pest's heartbeat thundering through the veins in his leg, see the way his chest rose and fell in rapid pace.
How could anything hurt this much?
He looked down at the limb in his hand, genuinely curious. It looked like any other leg, really. The way it spasmed in his grip made him think that the ankle joint was a bit more flexible than his own—it had a range of motion he'd never seen before. Probably where Wander got his climbing ability. He began to edge down the top of the sock. Maybe a better look would tell him more.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Wander staring away from them again. Towards the door. Hater snorted and reached out to grab his head and turn it back. None of that! Wander wasn't allowed to think of something else while he was being tortured.
That defeated the whole purpose.
As soon as his hand closed around his scalp, Wander's whole body seized and he was suddenly a ball of limps tucked close to his chin, all save for the leg Hater still held onto. His fingers were dug into the surface of Hater's claws and he was shivering hard enough that not only could Hater see it, he could see it. A tremor that went from crown to toes, Wander's eyes screwed shut and his breathing irratic.
Hater let his claws scrape into the skin beneath Wander's head fur.
Wander let out a keen, trying to break away and gasping out little breaths that couldn't be getting any air.
It had to be a species thing, Hater decided. Some genetic weakness, which was strange to think about. Wander had, for all intents and purposes, always just been a Wander. Some monstrously annoying thing that the universe had spat out one day with the intent to drive Hater absolutely insane. Born in a primordial soup somewhere and naturally a heap of the most obnoxious personality traits ever to exist. He must have had a home planet though, a home species. Hater made note to find them and conquer them. If these were their weaknesses, it'd be easy enough. And it'd be worth it to see the look on Wander's face when dragged up to the main bridge to look out on the destruction.
Hater shoved Wander's face down into the floor and dug in his claws, raking them over fur and skin. He tightened his grip on the thin leg for good measure. Beneath him, Wander's mouth had fallen open, and his hands were pawing at the ground with no rhyme or reason; a low whine was caught somewhere in his throat, rasping out on every exhale.
“Hater,” When it finally formed the word, it was thin and wheedling. “Hater, please...”
Oh, he was begging.
Hater'd never felt so proud of himself. This memory was going to be burned in his mind forever. Absolutely perfect.
Until Wander moaned.
What.
Hater stopped, and tilted his head to the side for a better look. Wander's eyes had opened just enough to show wide, dilated pupils. Hie shifted the hand that had been holding down Wander's head and found that the cheeks and side of his face, and the back of his neck were all warm, incredibly warm, and wherever he brushed the tips of his claws, Wander shuddered and gave another low sound that seemed halfway warped into his name.
Oh.
Wander was trying to look up at him, probably to see why he'd stopped. He looked strange and loose and wobbly, and Hater couldn't quite wrap his mind around what he'd been doing. What they been doing. It was only when he felt Wander's ankle starting to slip from his grasp as the small alien moved to sit up that he snapped out of his dawning horror enough to grab hold again. Wander stiffened, let out a breathy shout, and clung. For a moment he squirmed, and then he went still, gulping down air.
Hater did let go then, because oh glorn, what had he just managed to do?! He scrambled backwards until his back hit the wall near the door, and stared down at his hands—he was going to have to burn his gloves and scrub his mind with bleach and eat just so that he could throw up the appropriate number of times.
At the sound of metal chains clattering to the floor, he looked up in time to see an off-balance, but smiling Wander tugging on his hat. Unshackled and for the most part unfazed it seemed. How. How. How could anyone be so—
Wander was in front of him, shuffling his feet awkwardly.
“You know. If that was what this was about, you could have just said.” Wander said more to his running shoes than to the overlord in front of him. “I wouldn't have minded. You didn't have to be all shy and roundabout.”
“I...” His voice wasn't working. “I..I-I...”
“Next time, I'll return the favor, okay?” There was a gentle brush of whispers and warm lips against his cheekbone, just for a moment, and then Wander was bounding out the cell door and toward the prison exit. “But right now, Sylvia and I gotta jet! We're already late for the meteor shower in the next nebula over!”
“But...I...”
“I promise we'll stop by after that!” Wander turned to beam at him, and Hater could see that he was still trembling lightly, and there was a definite flush to the skin beneath the fur of his face. “Later Hater!”
Then he was gone.
Lord Hater sagged against the wall, counting down from fifteen—right out cue there was an explosion somewhere overhead, and the ship vibrated with the force of it. There rose several cries, both of his names and the general shouting of his army as they were no doubt led on a merry chase for the freed Wander. Within the hour, he'd have roused his steed and they'd be out in the galaxy again. Free to torment him another time.
He'd...and now Wander thought they were...
He let his forehead sink into his hands and groaned. Of course the universe had a sense of humor that demanded he be the butt of this joke. Now he'd never be rid of Wander. His head shot back up.
Oh, Glorn, Wander was planning to come back.
And he thought...
“LORD HATER! SIR, WHERE ARE YOU?!” Peepers voice from somewhere off in the distance, trying to call him into the fight. “THE PRISONERS HAVE ESCAPED—AAAAAAH!!!”
Hater fished out the padlock and used it to secure the door on his side.
He'd be safer in here.
Re: [FILL] Make You Hurt (Hater/Wander, dubcon) 2/2
Date: 2013-09-04 09:09 pm (UTC)Speaking of which, I don't think that padlock is going to keep Wander away either.
Thank you so much for filling this, I loved it so much.
Re: [FILL] Make You Hurt (Hater/Wander, dubcon) 2/2
Date: 2013-09-05 10:28 am (UTC)Not only was it really well written, it also unexpectedly ended up on a really funny and lighthearted note and that's awesome? The way you wrote it was amazing and I had so much second-hand embarassment for Hater at the end oh my god HAVE I ALREADY SAID THIS IS BRILLIANT
Peepers/Hater, non-con, mind control
Date: 2013-09-06 11:39 pm (UTC)So, Commander Peepers couldn't be happier when he comes into possession of some sort of mind-controlling device/method. He arranges things so that he can continue to appear to be nothing more than second-in-command, all while pulling the strings behind the scenes, as it were. This plan (for a little while, at the very least) succeeds, and Peepers is extremely pleased and a little drunk with all the power he now has.
That situation alone is enough to appeal to my mind control kink, but I'm also down with Peepers doing any manner of sexual things to the mind-controlled evil overlord, taking great pleasure in having someone who used to order him around so much at his mercy.
Obviously, whether Hater is in a position where he can voice his feelings about this situation or not, this is obviously completely non-con.
Wander/Other, noncon, tentacles
Date: 2013-09-07 09:29 pm (UTC)Wander come across a plant/creature thats just a little too friendly.
Hater/Wander, Socks, sensible ankle headcanon
Date: 2013-09-08 08:48 pm (UTC)Surprisingly, this actually seems to work great. Shure, Wander acts pretty weird when he gets his first present but he doesn't seem unhappy and does wear them so Hater doesn't think about it too much.
But what happens when Hater realises he actually looks forward to Wander beeing happy about his presents? And what happens when he finds out that socks are actually Star Nomads equivalent to (sexy) lingerie?
Bonus points: Wander beeing confused, because Hater giving him socks but acting weird when Wander gets touchy feely around him sends some pretty mixed messages.
Super bonus points: Peepers is the one who finds out what Haters presents imply and has to explain it to him.
Wander/Somebody, basically pon farr
Date: 2013-09-10 07:13 am (UTC)Bonus points for Wander hitting on everything that moves before getting with whoever you choose (I wrote the prompt with Hater in mind but if he gets with one of the Watchdogs that's cool too)
Sylvia/(Lady) Reader
Date: 2013-09-11 12:25 pm (UTC)Facesitting/69 is not required but highly appreciated! (sylvia'd certainly be able to get some good reach for that, eeeeeeehhhhh????? ohmygodwhatamIevensaying)
Re: Hater/Wander, Socks, sensible ankle headcanon
Date: 2013-09-15 02:31 pm (UTC)The small orange furball glanced nervously over to the camping site, chewing the inside of his cheek. He'd told Sylvia about all the socks, to which she laughed and he huffed and pouted. It wasn't fair to make fun of people for their feelings, and, to be honest, Wander was willing to return them. There in was the problem. Wander rubbed his feet together threw the fabric, a hot bubbling sensation building in his chest and he purred, his furr fluffing slightly at the feeling. Why would Hater continue to give him these gifts, yet every time he tried to act on them, he'd push him away? Was he shy? Was he inexperienced? Was he just playing with him?
Wander stopped from sliding his legs together and slipped his shoes back on, folding the other pair of golden and red socks together neatly with shame. He'd have to do something about it, he supposed. So, in the morning, he told Sylvia he was planning to confront Hater, alone, and she brushed her head stop his and wished him luck. Sylvia mumbled something about calling Phillie if that was the case, and Wander wished her luck as well before scampering off to the nearest transporter with a sweet farewell.
--
Hater sat in this throneroom, alone, contemplating. Sure, it had initially been a pain in the ass facading as Wander's friend, but now he'd actually grown fond of Wander's excitment over his gifts. Hater wasn't exactly sure how the maneuvars of friendship worked, but gifting the little orange menace seemed to do the trick. Hater did worry, though, if it was working a little too well. Hater noted the increase of hugging between the two and at one point he was pretty sure Wander had tried to kiss his temple but the thought was so ridiculous and brain-frying that he batted it away.
Wander was just an overly touchy person anyway, before they were even 'friends' he'd been clingy and annoyingly persistant. Hater sighed, slumping in his chair in boredom. A sudden knock at the throneroom doors making him jump and nearly fall out of his throne. Scrambling back up, Hater fell back into his throne and smothed out his robes before booming out: "Enter." (Those tips and tricks he'd been learning about being intimidating online were working.)
Peepers peered through the enterance of the doorway, looking back nervously. "Uh, sir, your, erm, friend is here," he managed,before the door flung open and Wander came bounding in, bubbily as ever. Wander shook Peeper's hand rapidly, "Thanks a heapin' Peeps, I real appreciate ya showin' me the way!" he chirped, before ushering the Watchdog out the door. "W-what are you doing?" Peepers demanded, trying his hardest to fight against Wander's ushering. "And quit calling me Peeps!" he snapped, pushing Wander's hands off of him. Wander lowered his voice, and leant in towards Peepers, "I'm plum sorry friend but Hater and I just gotta talk in private for a sec, okay?"
Looking confused, Peepers squinted his eye before Wander shrugged, waved, and slammed the door shut. The commander wondered absently if his lord would alright by himself, but rolled his eye at the thought. He'd do damage control later, he'd had his own studies to attend to.
Surprised and irritated to say the least, Hater crossed his arms impatiently as Wander lingered by the door. "What are you doing here?" Hater asked, trying his hardest not to sound irritated and probably failing. Not that it mattered, Wander never seemed to catch on to that sort of thing anyway. The aforementioned Star Nomad pulled at his hat nervously from the other side of the throne room. "I-I'm wearing the socks, Hater," he said slowly. Hater raised a brow. "Good, I'm glad you like them. Now, why are you here again?" he repeated. Wander squirmed in place, unable to look at Hater. "I-I came here because I, erm, feel like I'm getting mixed signals," he mumbled.
Hater squinted, leaning forward. "What? Come closer, you id-, I mean, come closer, Wander. I can't hear you." Wander glanced back at the door and, on wobbily feet, made his way across the throne room. Hater eyed the Star Nomad as he came to a stop three feet from his throne, still not meeting his gaze. "What is it?" he demanded. Wander shrugged, looking every but at Hater. "I-I feel as if I'm getting, uh, mixed signals ... " Wander repeated, still not looking at Hater. "A-and I came because I got your pair of socks and I thought that they were mighty fine and all but I can't help but feel like ... uhm," Wander stammered and spoke slowly and it dragged on. Hater's confused expression only grew.
"What are you trying to get at? Do you not like the socks?" Hater asked, unsure exactly how one could like or dislike socks. After all, they were just socks. Wander nodded quickly, taking Hater by surprise. "Y-yes! Of course! I think they're downright swell! I even put them on as soon as I got them!" Wander was wringing his hands now, nervous. "I-it's just that you've been giving me an awful lot of socks lately and I can't put them to good use, if you know what I mean."
Hater shook his head slowly. "What?" he repeated. Wander managed to look up at Hater, eyes guesturing downwards. Hater didn't seem to get it. Wander groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I don't wanna pressure you into it, Hater, but good golly it's real frustrating wearing these and not putting them to good use!" he yelped. "I mean, since you gave 'em to me I haven't gotten down and dirty with anyone and it-" Wander was cut off by Hater's flustered yelling. "Stop, stop, stop, stop!" he hollared, waving his hands frantically. "Too much information!" he screeched, face redder than his robes.
Confused, Wander squinted. "B-but you're the one who gave me the socks!" he pressed, point to his socks. "I thought that meant you took interest!" Wander shouted, throwing his hands out in disbelief. Hater's face began steaming with embarassment. "Why would that mean anything, they're just socks!" he yelped.
Oh.
Wander's mouth opened and closed before his whole face turned scarlet. "Y-you didn't know ... " he croaked, face so hot he could have fried an egg. "Hater! Socks are like, er, panties for Star Nomads!" Wander yelled, burying his face in his hands. Hater froze, staring down at Hater, who looked more flustered than anyone he'd seen in his life. "What."
Re: Hater/Wander, Socks, sensible ankle headcanon
Date: 2013-09-15 08:03 pm (UTC)Re: Hater/Wander, Socks, sensible ankle headcanon
Date: 2013-09-15 08:40 pm (UTC)I hope there's more of this to come, it sure is a fun read! The comedy aspect was handled nicely, and Wander's so wonderfully frustrated with the jumbled messages he's been getting. Hater's reaction? Perfect.
If that's all there is, I will be satisfied, but oh man, I'd love to see more.
Hater/Awesome Fighting, Hatesex
Date: 2013-09-15 11:25 pm (UTC)I'd like this too be as consensual as you can get with a prompt like this and if none of them end up in a dominating position I will love you even more.
PART TWO
Date: 2013-09-16 11:29 pm (UTC)Wander squirmed, crossing his arms protectively. "I-I supposed y'all didn't know too much about Star Nomads but, uh, y-yeah." Hater felt his entire being sink through the floor and his grip on the throne tightened. "And you came here to ... " Hater rasped, staring down at Wander, who was chewing the inside of his cheek. "I came here hopin' to, ha, uhm, come here," Wander joked, feeling his joke fall flat. Hater began to sweat nervously. "S-so the socks I've been giving you are like ... "
Hater couldn't even finish his sentence, his face growing hotter and hotter by the second. Wander shrugged defensively, nodding. "Th-they've been mighty nice to have on," Wander said, making a chill run up Hater's spine. Wander took in a breath, trying to relax. "Y-you know, Hater, I would be willing to, ah, show you some more Star Nomad practices," Wander implied, making Hater look up at him. "What?"
Taking a step forward carefully, Wander continued, "What I mean is, if it's alright, c-could we you know." Wander made a ring with his left hand and stuck two fingers in it suggestively. Hater squeaked, except he didn't because evil overlords do NOT squeak. "W-what!?" Wander held up his hands defensively. "I-I-I only mean if you're into it Hater, I see no harm in havin' a little fun with friends!" Wander was trying to sound cheery, trying to break through the awkward air. Hater gaped down at the smaller alien, unsure of how to respond. "A-are you coming on to me?" he said lamely, cheekbones afire. Wander nodded meekly. "I'd stop if you'd want me to," he said softly, taking another bound forward until he was standing right in front of Hater. "I-I-I-" Hater stammered, ending with a whine as Wander leaned forward, a hairs breath from Hater's face.
"It's the least I can do, seein' as you got me all these gifts ... " Wander breathed, climbing on Hater slowly, lightly. The warlord's head began to spin and a bolt of electricity flew down his bones and resinated where his groin was. Wander didn't break eye contact with Hater as he parted his lips softly. "Consider it a ... " and Wander finished the sentence with a swift movement, lingering a kiss on Hater's lips. "Thank you," he breathed.
Stricken with the contact, though not entirely sure of his feelings about it, Hater sat, frozen. This seemed to phase Wander, who pulled away with a frown, sitting back on Hater's lap. "I ... I don't mean to scare you none," he said softly. "I-I could stop if it bothers you some." Hater stared down at Wander, mouth hanging open slightly, unable to look away. "N-no it's ... fine?" Hater managed, face heating up. "Continue," he managed, trying to sound stern. Wander immediately perked up, leaning forward to pepper Hater with kisses, making the warlord swat him away. "Cut that out and get to the point!" he demanded, leaning back farther in his throne and trying to hide is blush.
Wander made a face before shrugging. "Ain't no reason for you to be rude," he said pointedly, looking down his nose at Hater. Lord Hater tried, in vain, to hide his distress and cleared his throat, making some sort of half-hazard apology, before Wander, now pleased, continued. "You know, Hater, when I got these the first time I was taken aback to say the least, now," Wander whispered before moving his hips, slowly, against Hater's, making the taller man whine sharply. Wander continued, "As soon as I got settled in for the night, though, I snuck myself to a hidden cave and put them on."
Hater bit back a groan as Wander began to build a steady, slow rhythm, accompanied by the strangely arousing thought of Wander slipping on the pair of black and red lined socks he'd first given him. Hater shifted his hips against Wander, who keened at the sensation that shot up his back and down his legs. "H-hater, get my shoes off ... p-please," Wander gasped, hands clutching at Hater's robes. The skeleton lord hesitated, too caught up in the sensation of Wander grinding against him, before he finally wrapped a shaky hand around Wander's ankle, which made the smaller alien moan loudly, and peeling off his shoes. "Thank you, kindly," Wander beamed as he continued grinding against Hater, a sappy smile plastered across his face.
Wander, without breaking rhythm, leant back, knees on either side of Hater's waist, and grasped his ankles. Immediately Wander's back arched like a bow and his pace quickened. Hater watched with unwavering interest as the small orange alien squeezed and rubbed his ankles through the thick fabric of his socks, biting his lower lip in what could have been either concentration or pleasure.
"F-frick ... " Wander gasped, jerking his hips wildly against an overstimulated Hater, who just watched the small furrball work him over, unsure of how to proceed. Only when Wander slowed down drastically did he snap out of his trance. Wander was panting, grabbing at Hater's claws, which were welded to the throne. "T-touch ... please ... " Hater swallowed a lump in his throat before allowing Wander to trace his hands to his ankles. Instantly, Wander threw himself against Hater, panting as the larger alien massaged his ankles slowly, unsurely. "Ngh ... H-hater," Wander moaned into the robes against his face, his hands finding the large bulge in Hater's boxers and massaging it.
Jerking slightly at the contact, Hater moaned as Wander, who began repositioning himself, slipped out the bright green cock with greed and latched on. With Wander's ass facing him as the orange menace suckled on the head of his cock, Hater's grip on Wander's ankles tightened and the smaller man buckled in his grip, taking in more of Hater's cock in the process. Hater yelped as Wander moaned into his dick, the vibrations from which cause him to break and curve over Wander at an uncomfortable angle, shaking as he released down Wander's throat, making the orange nomad stiffen and cough as he rode out his own orgasm.
Hater fell back in his throne, panting, hot, and under a shaking and now soiled Wander. The pair sat in silence, apart from the exhausted gasping, and tried to calm down enough to speak. Wander seemed to have recovered first. "Thanks a handful, Hater," he panted, smiling up from his back at Hater, his feet on either side of Hater's chest. The warlord looked down at Wander with a flustered expression, his friend/sort lover/one night stand/menace to be destroyed in a compromising position. With no response, Wander continued. "Can't tell ya how long I've been holdin' that one in!" Wander smiled up at Hater, who groaned and pinched the bridge of his brow. "Just stop talking for a second and let me think," he mumbled, bright green eyes closing.
Wander took the opportunity to scoot back and sit up, straddling Hater's hips with his own and pulling his hat further down his head. "But that was just so neat!" Wander gushed, inching forward and grabbing at Hater's robes lovingly. "Just thinkin' bout it gives me the honey glows!" he chirped, nuzzling into the cleanest part of Hater's robes. Hater pushed Wander off of him, or at least attempted to, a disgruntled scowl on his face. "You're super gross!" he shouted, looking down at his soiled robes. "Glorn, I'm covered in it!" he yelled, slapping a hand to his face in disgust. Wander shrugged and wiped his had on his leg. "Next time we'll be more careful then, won't we Hater?"
Hater peered between his bony fingers. "Wh-what?"
Wander/Hater Swap!AU, Pet Hater, Stockholm Syndrome(?)
Date: 2013-09-17 08:03 pm (UTC)In an attempt to make Lord Wander less violent against him and the Watchdogs, Peepers convinces him that the new Prisoner would make an exellent "pet", hoping that Wander will take out his aggressions on Hater when he is upset/bored.
What he didn't expect was that his superior would take an instant liking to Hater and that, after a while, the akward man-child would become the only person that Wander honestly cares about.
Hater himself doesn't really know what to think about the situation anymore. He never wanted to be someone elses property, but Wander treats him nicer than most people Hater has met and that actually makes him pretty happy. He also isn't as upset as he probably should be when Wander starts to get a little more friendly with him.
FtM Wander
Date: 2013-09-18 01:44 am (UTC)Prompt: While together, Hater discovers Wander is a female-to-male transgender. However, neither thinks it's a big deal.
fill: . the breaking point | Part One (1/2)
Date: 2013-09-18 03:18 pm (UTC)Part One
The Problem
----------------------------------------
All he had to do was press the button.
Lord Hater breathed in, long and slow. Air that he didn’t really need flooded his ribcage. It was just the right degree of cool, a familiar comfort after the uproar his ship had been for the last few days. Then he adjusted his cowl, reached out for the call switch again…and froze.
She was going to laugh at him.
Emperor Awesome had laughed. The giant, over-muscled jerk had laughed so hard that he’d fallen out of his throne near face-first, and it had taken a full ten minutes for him to choke out ‘you are so on your own, bro’ before he laughed right through hanging up. Knowing his rival like Hater did, said jerk was probably still laughing even now. Would probably keep laughing, for hours.
Dumb, bulky, unhelpful—
Hater took another deep breath, scrunched his eyes closed, and jabbed the button before he let himself chicken out.
The screen fizzed to life before him, a mess of static and noise. After several minutes, it cleared into a jumpy image that settled on a room of heady pinks and reds. The odd splash of green and white served to accent all of the warm colors, but it didn't stop Hater from grimacing. A small pink being, in green and gold uniform and possessing the usual heart shaped body that all of her minions sported, stepped into frame and began the usual long-winded introduction.
“Greetings most affectionate from the Grand Hall of the Mistress Philieros, the Idol of the Seven Nebulas, OverLady of the Lily-Downs, Crowned She of The Spice and Heather Quadrant, and Coordinator of the Most Impressive Collection of Erotica and Anatomical Reference as last contested span of three-fifths of a year, May She Remain Victorious. All Hail.”
Hater was suddenly very appreciative of his own much shorter announcement.
…alright, somewhat shorter.
“Where is she?” He snapped, puffing his chest out to appear more imposing. He wasn’t really feeling it—there had been far too many strange upsets as of late—but he had a reputation to uphold. One did not let their bones rattle in front of the armies, especially not those of other overlords.
The Heartthrob’s eyes narrowed. “All. Hail.”
“This is Lord Hater, Greatest in the Galaxy!” He was not going to praise Phillie, of all people. Never had. He didn't get why they insisted on trying. “Get your mistress on the line, or pay dearly!”
“Mistress Philieros is currently occupied.” The Heartthrob replied. “You are welcome to leave a message—”
“I am not going to leave a message!”
“…or I can refer you to our Chief of Staff. He is currently in charge.” The Heartthrob was glaring by that point, and Hater snarled in kind. If he’d taken the time to look, he might have noticed how frazzled its impeccable uniform was, and how its collar had wet marks that implied a mouth had been near it recently. Hater was far more concerned with his own problems however; the state and mood of a minion was hardly the foremost of his priorities.
“Whatever. Just…get me someone.” He hissed into one hand. In the distance, he could hear the scramble of Watch Dogs and faint shouting. The prisoner had gotten out of his restraints again, most likely. “Someone else.”
The Heartthrob gave him one last look of irritation and disappeared into a waiting screen of a pink background with a little heart-shaped being dancing about a pole in the center of the monitor. Beneath the dancer, in large letters, were the words ‘Please Hold’. Then, in smaller print, ‘Have a heart. Or a wank. Either, or both.’
Hater grunted and did his best to ignore the heart’s sultry movements.
After the animation had repeated no less than four times, a new face fizzled into view. The Chief of Staff, Jokey or Jocki or whatever—Hater knew the proper name perfectly well, but had long since practiced the art of never getting it right—sat scribbling tirelessly at his ever well-ordered desk. His feathers were folded and left to lay out of the chair’s specially made back, curving around the desk’s side in a groomed piled of vibrant color. Between them were three stacks of papers, each in their own little tray.
Exactly the same as the last time Hater had seen him—except for the extra attendant hanging off the edge of the desk with wide, glossy eyes and hands that kept drumming against the corners. She looked, at least in the sense of species, very much like Wander—her hair fell in tight coils and was colored a red that bordered on pink, and her eyes were a murky shade of brown, but it was obvious that they were of the same alien race. And that they were suffering from the same maddening ailment. And that she was doing her very best to get the Chief’s attention.
Well, she could wait.
“HEY.” Hater shouted a little louder than he meant to, but it served its purpose. The bustling secretary looked up. “Where’s Phillie?!”
“The Mistress is…engaged, at the moment.” Chief of Staff Jocamici replied, tone firmly bland as he spoke. “You are more than welcome to leave a message or inquiry with the desk. However, if you are desiring to know about the state of the temperature regulation unit, I will inform you that yes, it is still online and functioning acceptably. You need not ask if it is ‘running.’”
Hater did not blush. The heat on his face was because of the anger he used to fuel his answering scowl.
“This is important!” He insisted, and somewhere in one of the far-off sections of the ship, an alarm sounded. It was closely followed by a second, and then a third. “Just—just get her on the line!”
“She is entertaining.” The way Jocko spoke that particular word was littered with a very obvious meaning. One that Hater did not take the time to interpret—and even if he would have, the chance to was lost when the Star Nomad working so hard to entice Jocko made her move (trying to clamor up onto the desk in a way that reminded Hater far too strongly of a similar incident not four hours ago). She made it as far as the first rack before the Chief produced a simple, plastic water bottle and sprayed her full in the chest. From the way she squawked and flung herself backwards off the desk, the water must have been incredibly cold. “She will not be able to receive calls for several hours, at the earliest. Possibly days, if the visiting party grows. I will refer you to Emperor Awesome, if the situation is so dire.”
“NO.” Hater yelped a little too quickly, and Jocko’s feathers lifted in a partial fan at the sudden raising of his voice. Hater coughed, hoping that he hadn’t sounded nearly as desperate as he was fairly certain he had. “No. It has to be Phillie! Tell whoever she’s with to hold! This can’t wait! Wander’s driving me crazy.”
Jocamici, who had been reaching for the end-call switch even then, paused.
“Wander.”
Hater blinked. “Huh?”
“Wander, the Star Nomad.” Jocamici squinted at the screen, and there was the barest hint of amusement seeping into his voice. “He’s what this is about?”
“…yes?”
“And he’s with you. On your ship.” Jocko let his pen’s capped end rise and fall against his paperwork a few times, drumming out a metronomic rhythm. The ends of his mouth began to curl upward. “Right now. On your very, very small ship.”
“It’s not that small.”
“Please hold. I will inform Mistress Philieros of your…pressing matter. I’m certain she will set aside time to help you.”
Before he could protest that ‘help’ was not what he needed—overlords didn’t need help; and Phillie’s idea of help was reading aloud the marriage and consummation customs of every alien involved in a dispute, then offering aphrodisiacs in the place of refreshments—the screen had gone back to the animation of the heart-shaped pole dancer. The smaller print now read ‘Use protection to prevent infection!’
He groaned into one hand.
Just as he was beginning to wonder what on earth he was thinking, in a hall that was far too close for his own comfort, he heard Wander’s voice—laughing and yelling words that were muffled by the walls, but were most certainly just as terrible as they had been for the last few days. He shivered at the memory, and at the ghostly impressions of hands that wandered as much as the little pest’s name. The screen began to fizz into focus again, and Hater quickly straightened his robes and spine. Phillie couldn’t see him affected like this. He’d never live it down.
Just ask and be done with it.
The picture cleared, and Hater’s words—lined so neatly on the tip of his tongue—crawled down his throat and died. His face glowed red, and on instinct he moved to cover his eyes, but froze halfway through the motion, transfixed.
Phillie’s personal chambers were done in much the same style as the rest of her palace—red and pink prevailed with gold and green and white splashing in the odd, complex design. In the center was a circle of crystal-clear, steaming water, and from that grew a lily-pad with a huge white flower (more rose than lily). Within that was a heavy, plush cushion that looked soft as air. There she was half reclining, and with her were three more Star Nomads.
Her crown had obviously once been on her head, but now it rested a good three feet away, leaving a small indent on the upper part of her pillow. Her white collar was in the process of being removed by one light blue Star Nomad—obviously a male, though Hater was doing his very best not to look—and a slender, yellow female was attempting to ease Phillie’s chest free of her top, lovingly stroking at the curve of her left breast all the while. The third, who was a soft peach color and might have been of either sex—from the back, Hater couldn’t see enough to tell, and didn’t really want to—had their face buried in Philie’s stomach and was fighting with the buckle on her belt. Her tail was lashing about beside them, and every so often, one of the three turned and caught the appendage in their mouth. And from what Hater could tell from the giggles and moans, sucked on it.
He coughed, loudly.
Phillie’s propped up her head, but none of her bedmates seemed bothered. “Oh, Hatey. Like the view?” If her voice was a little huskier than usual, Hater resolutely did not notice.
“…I have a problem.”
“Military uniform or Sky-High 9000?” Phillie asked, titling her head to give the blue male a peck on the cheek when he succeeded in freeing her of the collar. His fur gained an extra inch of volume and he buried his face in her throat, fingers hurrying to remove her necklace to make way for his tongue and teeth.
“…what?” Hater managed, taking a step back. The female had managed to pull down one strap of Phillie’s top, and was preoccupied with sucking on the exposed swell of the mistress’s chest. Around her own moaning, Phillie fought to answer.
“Military uniform. Or Sky-High 9000.” She breathed, one bare hand traveling to thread fingers through the fur on the back of the female’s skull. The Star Nomad arched and keened, fingers moving over Phillie’s torso and that of the others almost frantically. The male peeled off and was suddenly biting at the shoulders and collarbone of the female. Phillie, having properly gotten them distracted, sat up and dislodged the last from their mission to remove her pants. “To solve your problem. It’s a very nice uniform. It’d look absolutely ravishing on you. And the Sky-High 900 is the very latest model. Guaranteed to make you scream—”
“IT’S NOT THAT KIND OF PROBLEM.” Hater blurted, trying to ignore the way the peach Star Nomad had curled their arms around Phillie’s waist and was unabashedly mouthing her hip. She gave their head a stroke that could only be called fond, then led one of the female’s hands over to their scalp. In moments, the other two were on the third, and a new series of sounds rose from their strange little pile as they worked to pleasure each other.
“Sorry about that, they are absolutely relentless.” She purred fondly, then looked back at him. “So what’s the dealio? If this isn't that sort of problem shouldn’t you be…” She waved one hand, half in dismissal. “…whining to Peepers or Awesome or something?”
“It’s…about…It’s that sort of problem but not me.” Hater blundered, helplessly gesturing as much as he could toward the three Star Nomads on her bed. He was hoping against hope that she’d take the hint. Phillie only frowned up at him.
“Okay. What sort of ‘hypothetical’ problem does your friend have?”
“It’s not hypothetical!” Hater said, bristling. “And I don’t have friends!” He was trying to loom, but the size of the screen and his attention continually flickering toward the three aliens and their own endeavors—the peach and blue pair had pressed the female between them and were rocking together in a very obvious rhythm that involved a lot of noise and touching—made it less than impressive.
“Hater. Eyes front and center, come on.” Phillie snapped her thin fingers several times, and he managed to drag his gaze back to her, swallowing lamely and trying to keep his eyes from straying back. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s up.”
“I don’t need—” Hater began, and a moment later he wilted. Like it or not, he needed help. “It’s Wander.”
Phillie’s antennae went up. “Wander? What about him? Don’t tell me you’re worried. I’m sure he’s fine.” Phillie rolled one shoulder. “Sylvia’s looking for him now, she’ll find him eventually. He probably started his cycle and got caught up in it. He’ll turn up.”
“He’s here.”
She blinked.
“…here?”
“On my ship.” Hater clarified, as he became more frustrated. Of course Jocko hadn’t actually relayed the reason for his call. Hater made a note to sign the Chief up for as many junk magazines as he could find. And perhaps find a way to ensure that all of them were grossly misspelled in both title and content. “I captured him outside of a spacial telegate a couple days ago.”
“You have Wander.” Phillie said, slowly, and in all the years he had known her, Hater had never heard her voice so low and angry. “You took him.”
“…I…uh…”
“You. Globbing. Numbskull.”
Hater did his best not to flinch. Beside her, the three Star Nomads had paused and were blearily looking up at the two of them. “I don’t…but…”
“No. Sylvia was worried sick. And he was with you this whole time.” Phillie puffed out her chest and hissed. “You could have called sooner, I thought she was going to bust a vein! She wouldn’t eat or sleep when he didn’t come to the port! I am going to knock your block off. You’d better be taking care of him, or you’ll be in big trouble—!”
“I’m already in trouble! Wander’s being weird!” Hater burst through her angry tirade with his own, and as annoyed as he was for being scolded there was also some gratitude in him for the chance to treat this like the catastrophe it was. “He’s acting like them!” At that word, he pointed toward the three Nomads clustered together, who were well-startled out of their activities and now were gathering up around Phillie again—not quite in terror, but they were obviously responding to all the yelling. Much in the same way Wander had several times now.
Phillie lost a great deal of her hot air in a loud exhale. She gently rubbed each of the Star Nomads in turn, obviously comforting them. “Well, what’d you expect? He’s having his heat cycle.”
“His what now?”
fill: . the breaking point | Part One (2/2)
Date: 2013-09-18 03:46 pm (UTC)“Oh my gob, did you not know?” Phillie sounded more than a little exasperated, and from behind her came several snickers. After shushing her bedmates and pushing them back to sit on their own, she continued: “He’s a Star Nomad. Limited conception ability for the species, and the whole population’s hormonal cycles peak every…” She paused to consider, “…maybe two or so galactic solar pulses. Give or take. It depends on the sun storm season and if any stars collapse in the general area. It’s not quite all at once for everyone, but it’s generally around this season, so yeah. I figured you’d know, after being around him so long. He must have brought it up.”
“We don’t talk about it.” Hater said gruffly, shuffling his feet. The conversation was not what he expected. He was hoping it’d be a parasite. Or a disease. Something he could stop.
“Too bad. It’s pretty nifty.” Phillie’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “You really shouldn’t have grabbed him though. Spending a heat cycle in a warship? No fun at all. I’ll ring Sylvia to come get him. He comes here every cycle to wait it out anyway. Bad form of you to kick him while he’s down like this.”
“It’s not my fault.” Hater sulked. “He practically ran into my ship when he saw me at the port. I was going to the Gear Quadrant to take over Tickerknob.”
The mistress paused, and tilted her head. “Say what now?”
“He ran onboard,” Hater grated out through clenched teeth. He didn’t like repeating himself at the best of times, but admitting that the only reason he’d caught his sworn enemy as being due to said enemy being a willing party to the capture? That made it worse. “Straight to the control room. Knocked us off course too. And he won’t stop.”
Phillie listened in rapture, and more than anything else that day, Hater did not like the grin on her face. “He came to you. Vial-Every-Cycle Wander came to you. The guy who comes by with my lady fair so he can guzzle a hormonal antidote and hide in a guest room…came to you.”
“Antidote?” Hater asked hopefully, but to no use. Phillie was no longer paying attention; instead, she seemed to be celebrating.
“You have to tell me all about it. Did he scream? I have a betting pool going, and I’m so sure he’s a screamer. Think carefully, ‘cause fifty credits depends on your answer, and neither of us wants Awesome to win.” Her tail whipped about excitedly and she started to pace on the lily pad, thinking out loud and beginning to giggle between words. “Oh glorn, I thought this would never happen! He should have told Sylvia so she’d stick around, but I can forgive that—kinda hard to drop a line mid-coitus. Man, all that pent up energy from years of suppression too, hoo baby, he is going to ride you like a bronco all week—
Hater had watched her belt out her out twisted stream of thought, but at that line he exploded into a startled “WHAT?!”
She screeched to a halt. “What?”
“What are you even talking about?!”
“…you haven’t done it yet? Dude, you’re two days in, you’ll drive him crazy if you wait much longer. It’s not healthy to build him up like that and leave him hanging.” She looked miffed. “He trusts you.”
“He’s already crazy!” Hater growled in reply, crossing his arms. “He’s even crazier than usual, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Duh. He’s horny as flarff and you’re not banging it out of him.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re a horrible friend, Hater.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she plowed on. “Plus he’s not used to it, not past the first day. He always takes a suppressant and waits for it to be over.”
“Great, get me that!” He lean forward, suddenly interested. She didn’t appear to have heard him.
“—man, he’s probably too keyed up to think straight right now, how are you not on that?” Phillie tsked. “You’ve only got, like, a week left before it’s just regular sex again, and sure that’s great, but glorn almighty you have not lived till a Star Nomad in heat’s been in your bed, Hater. They're inexhaustible when they’re like this. And they come up with the best stuff, you’ll see. They are absolute topnotch in heat!”
“I don’t want to know this.” Most of his words were absorbed by the material of his glove, and the force with which he was smashing it into his face.
“He’s probably aching for it by now—”
He fought off the image of Wander’s latest transgression before he’d caved in and gone video-calling for help. Crawling into Hater’s chambers in the middle of the night, the overlord waking up to a warm body clambering up onto the foot of his bed and staring up at him with an expression that could only be described as desperate. Trying to crawl up the bedcovers while Hater was still in shock. Mouth and hands and the full on press of a thin, small body with too much heat in it—
He let out a howl of anger and misery, burying his face in his hands. “I am NOT going to have SEX with WANDER!”
Phillie halted finally, looking startled. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to!” Hater snapped, throwing his fisted hands to his side as he yelled, as though that might propel his voice farther. “It’s WANDER.”
“Dude, it’s not like it has to mean anything.” Phillie’s face seemed to be moving of its own accord, unsure what emotion it should be expressing at that moment. It went from confused to disapproving to patient to offended and a mix of all four in record time. “I mean, it sort of means you had sex, but not much else. Wander obviously trusts you, if he came to you during his heat. Enough to think you won’t like…take advantage of him right now.” Her features suddenly darkened, and her glasses turned into perfect circles of reflective light. “And you won’t, will you? Because if you do, I will pepper your ship in so many lasers you’ll look like Swiss Cheese when I’m done.”
Hater faltered. “The…the Overlord Accord says you can’t—”
“I don’t give a diddly darn about what the Accord says.” Phillie answered, her words each a bit snipped by her obvious temper regarding the subject. “If you take advantage of him while he’s like this, I will end you, Hater. You and your army and your ship. If you fuck Wander, that is going to be the most consensual fuck this side of the galaxy or I. Will. End. You.”
“I’m not going to!” Hater stomped this time, fighting to convey the little shivers running through him as purely anger. Philieros, despite her ‘mistress’ title, had a sizable army and quite a bit of support in her area of space. She was perfectly capable of dealing a lot of damage before her armies were forcibly recalled. “I want you to fix him! Just get him back to normal or something!”
She…did not wilt so much as deflate. “Oh. You’re just calling for the antidote.”
“YES.” Now they were getting somewhere. “Just make him normal again, and we can get on with me having him prisoner and you sending Sylvia for a battle.” Hater was all but bouncing in relief. Finally, an answer to his problems.
“Well, it won’t ‘make him normal,’” She employed rather over-sized finger quotes at the words. “It just dampens down the sex drive. Enough that he can keep a lid on it. It’s still going to be a pretty rough few days.”
“I don’t care, anything’s better than this. He tried to crawl inside my robes yesterday!” Phillie snorted. “It’s not funny!” Hater wailed. “I can’t fight him when he’s like this. Just give me the…whatever, so things can go back to the way they were! I can’t even walk around my ship without him trying to jump me!”
Phillie let her tail curve around to her front and began to comb her fingers over the fluffy end, obviously deep in thought. “…you know what? I’ll make you a deal.”
Hater’s eyes narrowed. “What.”
“Yes. A deal.” The mistress grinned, far too pleased with herself and the situation. “It’ll take a few days to get the antidote to you. Two, three tops. I’ll go ahead and send it out today with a trusted minion, no gossip, no telling anyone what it’s for. I send them out all the time around this season, so no one will look twice. You can have someone come get it for Wander when it reaches the postal receiver nearest to you.”
Her tail coiled around her fingers, and Hater winced. It sounded good.
Too good.
“In return.” She purred. “I want you to think about it.”
“…huh?” Hater’s eyes pried themselves off of the movements of her tail, which was acting almost coy, and he had no doubt she was doing it on purpose. She liked to mess with people that way. The motions made him remember that there were currently three Star Nomads in the chamber with her—he’d been steadfast in focusing only on her movements—and out of habit, he looked for them. They’d taken right back up with each other while the mistress was distracted, and his whole face burned even while he averted his eyes.
“Exactly like that, yes. Good.” Phillie’s teeth found her bottom lip and she swayed side-to-side in delight. “You’re going to think long and hard and really in depth about whether or not you want to give up this opportunity. You have a very amorous Star Nomad on your ship, completely willing, and he wants you. I want you to come to a fully informed decision on what you’re going to do about that in the time it takes for you to get the antidote.”
“I don’t want—”
“Hater, you and I both know that right now you’re being stubborn and grumpy, because you’re still upset that you had no idea what was going on.” She eyed him, and he avoided meeting her gaze. “Now you know. Wander wants the d,” She drew out the syllable, absolutely relishing it. “And you’re the one he wants it from. So you have at least two whole days to decide whether or not you want to actually ditch that pissy ‘tude of yours, and properly figure out some feelings. Much as you whine about them.”
“You’ve been trying to get this for years.” Hater grumbled, arms crossing again.
“Sure, I want you two to bang for my collection.” She shrugged and smirked. “But this is about you and Wander. Wander’s being super open and vulnerable with you right now. I want you to at least take that into account before you blunder the whole shebang. And also, sex. A lot of really, really fantastic sex.”
“No.” Hater turned the word into an iron wall and hid behind it.
“Alright. Your loss.” Phillie clapped her hands together. “I’ll get the vial sent right out. Enjoy your two days with Wander, and if you do decide to not go for it, keep him in a room with a lot of food and water. And a bed. He’s going to have it super bad by the fourth day, and he’ll need all of it. Also you’ll want to change the sheets. …like, a lot.”
“I’ll do that.” Hater hissed out, reaching for the end-call switch.
“Oh, and go for fruit, not carbs. And proteins. He’ll burn right through most stuff, and you don’t want him to pass out.” Her fingers each rose for the points, and as she rocketed the instructions off, she pushed the responding digits down in turn. “Also, don’t expose him to too much stimuli. Star Nomads are incredibly sensitive when they’re like this. They don’t process outside influence right. No filters.”
“Thank you, Phillie.”
“And romance him a little first! Wander’s always edgy around this time, so even if he’s literally flinging himself at you, he’d bound to have some reservations. Sure, he’s had the odd romp, but he’s never been keen on the whole in-heat thing.” She nodded empirically. “You treat him right. Gentle and stuff. Rough fun is for after you’re both in the groove.”
“THANK. YOU. Phillie.”
“Oh! And talk it out a bit, okay?” Phillie’s hands went to her hips, and she scrutinized him closely. “You guys really gotta have a proper chat about this. Get on the same page. Consent and all. Super important.”
“UGH. GOODBYE.”
The screen stilled for a moment, then blipped out into a single dot of light. The last image on it was Phillie’s stern face leaning forward in frame, eyes directly on him, with her mouth parted at the last syllable of ‘important.’ Her teeth were just visible, and her hair, tousled as it was, match the curve of her cheek. Hater’s eyes had only a split second to follow the natural line, finding the three very much engaged Star Nomads behind her, and leaving a blush around his cheekbones that persisted even when the screen went dark.
“Two days.” He muttered, to no one in particular. Knowing Phillie, she’d tell her messenger to stretch it to three. No matter what, that meant at least a good forty-eight galactic hours on his ship with a Wander that, much to Hater’s chagrin, wanted to…
Do things.
To.
With.
He heaved an exhausted sigh and sank to the floor, wrapping his arms around his cloaked legs.
Maybe he could just wait it out in here.
Re: fill: . the breaking point | Part One (2/2)
Date: 2013-09-18 08:42 pm (UTC)Re: fill: . the breaking point | Part One (2/2)
Date: 2013-09-18 11:41 pm (UTC)Re: fill: . the breaking point | Part One (2/2)
Date: 2013-09-19 09:24 pm (UTC)fill: . shatter (warning: quite a bit of angst and a drop of self-loathing)
Date: 2013-09-21 09:22 pm (UTC)Now, he isn't sure what to think. He knows that the rumors are untrue: he did not fall to his knees at the sight of acid-green eyes, or a ragged hoodie. He is under no enchantment, has fallen to no wiles, and the strumming of an acoustic guitar is no more hypnotizing to him than any other music he's heard. All-in-all, he feels exactly the same.
He eats better now, which is startling to realize in the middle of a seldom eaten breakfast. Having company, having someone to feed, ensures that he has made a habit of joining in. He sleeps better as well; the nightmares that have been in his thoughts for the majority of his life are not gone, but arms wrapped around him when he jolts awake in terror, shaking in the darkness of the bedroom and only able to see space in all its vastness...being held lets him eventually close his eyes again. His sleep is not untroubled, but at least he is sleeping.
Little things have changed: he is used to being touched now. Sometimes he even craves it. A hand to his shoulder, the gentle weight of claws trailing through his brittle fur. He is still unable to have his personal space crowded, but his limits are expanding ever so slowly.
He no longer dyes his fur. It's broken and sharp, straw-like. It's been that way for a very long time. The color is muted and stained, but it is orange like he remembers, and leaving it clean means that his arms and back are absently stroked in the evening. Sometimes it means long, slow kisses.
There is still a streak of sadism in him, but it all seems...absorbed. It is redirected, drained from him in sheets and the warm way that red colors bone. Low sounds of desperate pleasure in his ear, hanging on his every word. Trembling limbs under his fingers, winding around his chest and trying to cling to consciousness until that last second when resolves gives way. He's seen white and black and green coated in startled tears and heard shaky words that all but worship him. Kissed his pet dry and clean again, and then kept going until the tremors returned and he's never been one to kneel but the bend of a spine and the way hands clench and the body spasms...
He wants different things now. A world that isn't dark and empty and suffocating him is suddenly within his reach. Something fills it, and if he had a name for it, he'd bottle it up and label it and keep it. It can't leave now, if he lets it go, it will never come back, he knows it he knows.
Faced with a choice, the ray gun shaking in his head and his mind screaming, it takes every ounce of strength in him to not show the struggle on his face.
Hater edges forward, staying between the barrel and the Zbornak. The gun slides from Wander's grip, and with it goes everything he has. He is unarmed and despite being in a room filled to the brim with Watchdogs, he feels more alone than he has felt in a lifetime. He can feel it, that he is going to fall the minute Hater steps away and in so short a time he has become used to Hater catching him. Instead of arms there are lips, and Wander does his best to cling to him please don't leave me you can't you can't leave me please.
He slips between Wander's fingers like smoke, and without orders, the WatchDogs let them go.
The walk back to his room is a neverending series of forcing one foot to lift after another, but he cannot stop, cannot falter, if he lets himself go too then he won't get up again. If he makes it inside, he might be able to pick up the pieces of himself again, patch the holes and come back with more of what he's somehow been drained of, more than ever. He will be cruel, he will be monstrous and instead of begging, he will take.
His legs buckle outside the door and he doesn't even have the strength to scream.
The cloak gives him no warmth but he curls into it, winds it around his fingers until it chokes him and cuts off the circulation to his hands. His vision is spinning, but he cannot cry. He hasn't cried since the last time he saw his mother's smile. More than anything, he wants tears to prove that there is something inside him even now, even if it is only how much he hates himself.
The cold of the tile falls away, replaced by arms and the dull pulse of magic.
Wander goes stiff, then takes a shuddering breath that he doesn't even manage to hold before the walls crumble. The sobs are dry, and his whole body aches after each one; he feels like an idiot, wailing without restraint into a shoulder, but his hands won't stop pulling at the fabric of Hater's sleeves, trying to keep him as close as possible. He hurts and he is falling apart but there are hands piecing him back together at the same time.
They move to either side of his face, cradle him until he can draw air without heaving, and Wander realizes they are in his bed, covers drawn to his throat, and Hater is watching him. Bright green eyes blink, mouth splits into a smile, and Wander realizes that the problem isn't that he's gone soft. He always knew that he was broken.
"I said I was coming back."
This is what being fixed feels like.
Re: fill: . shatter (warning: quite a bit of angst and a drop of self-loathing)
Date: 2013-09-22 07:51 pm (UTC)