styofa doing anything
đŞź

pixel skylines

Product Placement

if i look back, i am lost
tumblr dot com
i don't do bad sauce passes

#extradirty
Stranger Things

Janaina Medeiros
Cosimo Galluzzi
wallacepolsom
dirt enthusiast
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

ellievsbear
Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă
sheepfilms

Kaledo Art
will byers stan first human second

seen from Canada

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from TĂźrkiye

seen from South Africa
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Chile
seen from Chile
seen from Germany

seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
@chobbemoe-art

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
"Within Your Shattered CaCO3" - Short stories (6/?)
Written by Amelien (Chobbemoe)
<<First part <Previous part
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
A TOUCH OF JEALOUSY
The break room was quiet when Walmer arrived, just before the lunch rush the lights were always dimmer and less headache inducing. He sat himself at the farthest corner available, the most hidden booth becoming the perfect place to set base. This morning shift had proved particularly exhausting, lethargy creeping up his spine after hours spent on hard labour and grime, he needed to recover though, as quickly as possible, he could never afford to move around sloppily.Â
Usual human methods proved useless on his organism, neither caffeine nor sugar made any energizing effect, the only exception was the less credible one. The nap, a short hibernation humans utilised for swift recoveries, was a baffling but apparently effective concept, as he realised not long ago. He only did it once successfully, and it felt like a risky endeavor, the probability of getting attacked during the menial rest very likely. Traiturous theories nonetheless, his energy drain proved so great, he was willing to give it another shot.Â
He folded himself in the empty booth in a pose so impractical, it would have given anyone else back pain for days. Not him though, it felt comfortable enough for rest to be plausible, his eyes getting accustomed quickly to the improvised darkness. His third eyelids started to move horizontally as he began to doze off, at first the nictitating membrane shifted warily back and forth, before fully covering the tired eyes of the nautilus. It felt like something suddenly switched off, a captivating submersion of quiet.
And as quickly it arrived, it was gone. Booming voices echoed in the room, it startled him awake, the flash of the industrial lights on full blast piercing through the translucent eye coverings. Walmer hissed while bringing his hands to his face, trying to soothe the sudden blindness he experienced, underwater curses mustered under his breath. With drowsy frustration, he tried to check his wristwatch, the sleepy blurriness difficulting the calculations of the wasted time. Except, it wasn't mere seconds what flew past, if the ticking numbers didn't lie, three-thousand-six-hundred seconds were invested, sixty minutes⌠An entire hour, gone in a blink.
The nautilus looked around baffled, the contrast sobering his state; the lounge was the exact opposite as it had been an hour ago, loud chatter coming from a buzzling crowd, the smell of food and humanity changing the airâs density, different groups sitting in the rest of the tables. How did it get past him so easily? He felt on edge, this would have never happened on any other day. During his tactical surveillance, Walmer's ocular landed on a familiar figure, Hugo. For some reason that evaded him, the sight of his coworker in the room made his body relax.
He started to analyse Hugo's interaction from afar, it involved another acquaintance, Arthur. This focus drowned out everyone else in the room, their conversation the only thing he cared to notice; the change in decibels from time to time, cackles and whispers sprinkled between their normal volume, i usually would have bothered him to hear them chit chat out loud, but this time he couldnât break his gaze away from the way both people moved. They were laughing, a sound Walmer learned meant they were enjoying each other's presence; they were sitting beside one another, so close their shoulders touched as they spoke, the spy couldn't process why, but it bothered him.
In their closeness, Arthur was laying his head on Hugo's shoulder, breaching contact even further while the conversation proceeded as normal, Walmer could feel his right eye twitch. The intimacy they were sharing felt outrageous, to be that near to someone, it was too much even for human standards. The subject of observation seemed prone to connecting with most of the staff with similar actions, at minimum hand gestures were given, then back taps, patting heads or, on rare instances, embraces; he knew because he tallied it mentally for a while, except, he seemed to be the outlier from such repetitive behaviour. Even if the gestures were unnecessary in the nautilusâ opinion, the general idea of being touched irking him to his very core, not being treated like the others bothered him more.Â
Weaved between his analytical thoughts, waves of less logical ideas creeped up. Flashes of the warmth of Hugoâs palm on his forehead from weeks prior, the subtle weight it carried, he could sense it linger and it made him feel weird. Then, out of nowhere, as if its purpose was to feed the uncomfortable sensation of brewing comparison, Hugo laid his cheek then kissed the top of Arthur's head. Nonchalantly, neither making a big show of the act, they just proceeded as normal in their chat while Walmerâs eyes widened; it showed regularity, maybe even routine. The observer's eye twitched twice.Â
âHugo, may I speak with you?â The nautilus jumped in, all his sleepiness falling off at once. He didnât know when his body decided to breach the room's distance, his height suddenly shadowing over the seated humans, but since he was already there, he would gladly break up their display. However, even if startled by his sudden presence, neither made the effort to separate. His eyes shifted to Arthur who looked back puzzled, still not bothered enough by the blondâs presence to move, the uncomfortable feeling grew, he shifted back to Hugo, he looked just as comfortable. â In private.â
The friends looked at each other then back at him, unspoken communication shared that Walmer did not understand; the pit in his stomach grew. âSure man, let's go outsideâ Hugo stretched up from the booth still grinning, then before walking away his hand rustled Arthur's jet black strands. âI'll be back soon, you better spill what's left, I'm invested now!âÂ
âYeah yeah, if you come back before I forget the restâ Arthur snickered, âOr I share it with someone else.â his long fingers brushed the mess back in place, then waved both goodbye with a smirk.
âFuck off you wouldnât dare!â Hugo roared, showing off his middle finger before turning it into a wave. Walmer remained observant in their behavior, retracing the gestures made mentally before doing small imitations with his hand. He was still bothered, he wanted to get it. âThis guy I swear,â the shorter man snickered with the fondness decades of friendship warranted, and the nautilus walked beside him silently, noticing and measuring it. âSay Wally, wanna share a smoke and ya tell me what's going on?â the brunette asked, his route was already made up, he just asked to be polite.
âSure, it seems adequateâ the blond responded, his walk purposely slower to go at the otherâs pace. Once they were alone in the hallway, the uncomfortable sensations within him simmered down, but they never truly left. Maybe the nap had messed up his homeostasis.
They walked in silence for a bit, Walmer retracing in his head how close the other two were sitting prior, in comparison, they seemed oceans away from causing any friction, maybe said factor was the issue. The thoughts weighed inside his cranium, drifting the stolen bodyâs inertia towards Hugo's gravitational pull, an unconscious test. He hoped to close in the distance as they meandered, however when the other unconsciously sensed him approaching, he shuffled his body away in response, maintaining the space between them. The squidâs posture deflated when he realised, the pit in his stomach growing as he hurriedly recuperated his original course. A strategic retreat, he didnât get it.
Once they reached the smoking areaâs doorway, Walmer pushed out the heavy doors hurriedly, keeping them open for Hugo to follow soon after. This action received a polite nod and thanks in response, it felt like a little win. The chilly sea breeze hit them both suddenly, even with the filtration nets draped over the outside area, it wasnât enough to cushion the cold. The spy seemed unfazed while the man shivered before zipping up his uniform, his hands soon searching inside his pockets for his vice and a bit of warmth. It wasnât the only thing empty at the moment, the space was also desolated, understandably so since most of the workers were still enjoying their lunchbreak, that included the usual smoker troop.Â
The smell of cigarettes past and saline spray permeated the area, sounds of heavy machinery humming in the background while the mesh barely disguised the oceanic views composed of purple waves reflecting the afternoon light. Both moons hung high in the sky, resting while showing only the first quarter of their celestial bodies. Hugo observed the landscape with a never fatigued wonder, taking the pack out slowly without breaking away his gaze from the view, he breathed in. âPretty ainât it?â the human mustered while placing his back on the cold wall adjacent to the door, Walmer followed, resting his frame beside the other, not too close, but not too far either. Trying not to overstep again, he watched the speaker then followed his sight towards the horizon.
âIt most likely is,â he whispered back, adjectives as abstract as pretty normally evaded the sea creatureâs understanding, but this time, looking at the shimmering waves from that point of view, he kind of got it. It was peaceful, his agitation seeming to drip away into the sea. In his reflection, a freckled slow hand shook an almost empty pack in front of him, the last two cylinders seeming to dance in wait. He took one between his cold fingers, then gazed back towards his sponsor who angled the box precisely so the leftover would fall into his mouth. The way the cigarette rested on top of Hugoâs chapped lips was noted by the observer, the sounds of the package getting crumpled with a single hand soon followed, it felt effortless.
Hugo didnât throw it away, instead hid it in the inside of his pocket, held between many other papers and a hand avoiding the cold. He shifted in place to make sure the doors were closed, then his vision drifted towards the blond, who was still holding the stick between his knuckles, his posture curved but rigid, his gaze blatant. Maybe weeks ago, if the human had noticed Walmerâs irises stuck on his face just like they were that day, he would have felt unnerved; but he didn't, he had gotten surprisingly used to it, never attributing bigger meaning other than just a harmless habit. âGot a light?â he spoke, his lighter already held out, a hand shivering slightly as he checked the gas a couple times.
Walmer quickly copied the manâs posture, clumsily holding the stick between his teeth before shaking his head in response. It was one of the few signals he fully grasped, a negation. Hugo nodded, his body scotching closer to the nautilus.Â
âIt's alright we can share,â he assured, his left hand igniting the little spark while the right protected it from the breeze. Walmer, noticing how the gap had reduced, stayed ever so still, observing unblinkingly how the man had placed his face near the fire, the stick almost touching the heat; he feared if he moved even a muscle to breathe, the human would scurry away again.Â
A few seconds passed in the awkward standstill, the heat concentrating on the lighter almost burned Hugo's thumb. He stopped pressing before it could, shaking his hand to temper both. âPsst blondie, I ain't getting any taller, you gotta come down if you want to light your cigâ he said with snark, Walmer nodded with surprise, this was permission and it felt good to have it, a silent affirmation and the lowering of his body were his response. With both creatures at eye level, another attempt was made.
âAttaboyâ, the freckled man chuckled, getting closer once more and preparing to ignite the flame, this time making sure to also supervise the otherâs stance. At that moment, even if there was space between them, the distance separating them was almost nonexistent, the tips of their vices mere centimeters away from contact, that was the closest they had ever been since the island. A similar warmth to the memory was carried inside the convective current, fed by the revived light hitting their faces. It made him think about that night. Walmer almost dropped the stick in anticipation, this was intimacy, a different emotion grew inside his stomach, this was closeness.Â
They stood watching the ends turn alight, the flame growing bigger as the corners charred; Hugo was the first to inhale deeply, his cigaretteâs ashes glowed a brighter orange then crept up towards him in response. Walmer just held his still, biting down trying to avoid its escape and waiting for a similar result that wouldnât show. A string of smoke began to part their eye contact, Hugo looked away first before flicking the lighter shut.
In an instant the flame was gone and with it the necessary closeness, the experienced smoker readjusted his posture while taking a step away. Savouring the starting essence of menthol and nicotine on his tongue, he exhaled the smoke in the direction opposite to Walmer. When he looked back, he realised the squid had stayed hunched in place, as if lingering in the warmth that wasn't there anymore, his cigarette's cinder was dimming in the absence of oxygen.
 âYou don't smoke much do ya?â Hugo asked while flicking his stick's white ash away. He didnât know what made it more obvious, if it was the way Walmer's teeth gripped the cylinder for dear life or how he kept comparing both cigarettes, one almost stagnant in the char while the other was burning away quite quickly, the differences in consumption visibly frustrating him. It was amusing, even a bit cute.
â No⌠I'vf nevefgh donâ thigs befoâ,â the taller one said slurringly, struggling to keep cigarette from falling as he talked. He was sure he missed a step or two but he didn't know which one, and looking for guidance wasn't working. It didnât help that a distracting emotion born from the nearness being taken away split his attention, another thing he didnât get, the list was getting infuriatingly long. Hugo side-eyed him amused before taking another long drag, each puff tasting more like minty nicotine and the guilt of bad habits creeping back, he parted the stick from his lips and blew away the smoke.
âHum⌠thatâs good, don't start now.â Hugo scolded him playfully, a light curtain of remaining fog escaping his mouth as he spoke. His next actions happened slowly, but still caught Walmer off guard.
When he blinked after his cyan eyes almost dried up from all the staring, vertically this time, purposely like humans do, out of nowhere a calloused hand was approaching his face. The blond held his breath in and his pupils split slightly, was it finally happening? The island came back to his mind and with it, a phantom pressure on his forehead, something was going to happen, and he could feel his fake lungs suck in air in anticipation.Â
âIt's bad for yaâ the subject of the spyâs thoughts spoke, snatching the dying cigarette away at the last word, the hastiness of his movements making the manâs knuckles accidentally brush the otherâs lower lip. Walmer had felt the friction, the breath he was holding dripping out from his agape mouth, the slightest cloud of smoke escaping from the gap dividing his front teeth. Hugo noticed, the feeling of golden stubble tickling his skin lingering more than it should have. They both felt it and the lack of words acknowledged it, only the sound of the stolen vice being put out against the wall spoke up.
âSorry about thatâ Hugo said while clearing his throat, a tinge of panic molding his facial wrinkles. Unconsciously he saved the slightly used cylinder inside his pocket and looked away, the way Walmer froze up was making his insides churn. Now a different kind of guilt built up inside his lungs, he took another drag to drown it out. âWâŚwhat did you want to talk about again?â The man stepped further away while changing the subject, trying to compensate for his prior invasion of personal space.
âAre you usually this prone to physical contact with everyone Hugo?â Walmer blurted out; he had many thoughts running through his system, the first was how the smoke tasted awful, the next was the disappointment of the cigarette being taken away despite it, another wondered if the burning feeling on his cheeks was due to the cylinder's spark, and so on. However, this question escaped first, direct and monotone, his freezing eyes watching in real time as Hugoâs relaxed pose changed into a more closed off position. Something was happening, and the whiplash of closeness was driving him mad, he needed to get it now.
âWhat's that supposed to mean?â the shorter man raised an eyebrow at the question, trying to process the multiple directions those words could be taken. He disliked most of them. âIf ya asked me here just to be snide, I'm going back to the lounge.â He sucked in another drag, not taking the time to savour anything, his leg began to bounce up and down, waiting for what Curls was bringing next.
âOh no stay, I'll explain!â The spy cleared his throat, not because he needed it, but as an acquired habit from Walter's mannerisms. âAre is the verb to be in second person, the action of existing, you is the su-â as Walmer spoke without skipping a beat, reciting the grammatical knowledge taught to him in the abyssal cell, Hugo jumped to cut his speech short.Â
â Ha. Ha. Okay yeah I see yer pulling my leg, this chat is over â the man said unamused, the half gone cigarette paying for it by being extinguished against the metal wall. The force of uneasiness killed it quickly, and a few extra taps for good measure at the rhythm of the manâs nervousness announced its retirement, into the same pocket the barely used one laid, ready to proceed their dance of addiction. He was in a good mood today, and his coworker was starting to sour it. As rude as it felt, he started to walk back to the rest area, an effort to put out the conversation just as efficiently, the taste of guilt lingered inside his throat, the feeling of Walmerâs skin still haunted his knuckles.
If Walmer was particularly good at something, it was at being stubborn, he moved with him, following his steps closely. Something happened, even if the human avoided his question, he didnât want to give up, they were so close, he was so close to getting it. âI think there is a mistake, I am not grabbing your lower limbâ Walmer excused with his same register, still a tinge of frustration seeding in the fact he couldnât get his point across. âI am trying to understand your behaviour.â
Hugo grimaced, those words struck a familiar wound, he didnât know if it was an accusation, a reprimand or something else. He didnât want to find out either, swinging the door open for his escape. He wanted out of the conversation, except for some reason, his hand still held the entrance long enough for his coworker to exit. It tasted like guilt inside his mouth, âIâm sorry about earlier, it was an accident, I didnât mean to.â
âYour approach towards me was unintentional?â Walmer spoke back, if Hugo didnât know any better, he would have thought that his follower sounded almost wounded. âIs your contact with the others also accidental? He was missing something and it felt unfair, the constant change of conditions between them confused him. Hugo didnât apologize when he kissed Arthurâs head, he didnât recoil when Karina needed a hug, he didnât avoid the entire Roughneck crew's fistbumps after a good shift; why was he treated so differently in comparison? He didnât get it.
âWhat the- Man it was a mistake, I already apologized for touching yer lip Walmer, I donât get where the rest is coming fromâ Hugo was getting agitated, the walk back felt disproportionally longer. With both hands inside his pockets, he tried to count the segments of his fingers with his thumbs, an attempt to divert his mental energy into anything but what was happening. It didnât help, it just made the feeling of the otherâs skin on his skin more blatant.
âI want to understand why you are able to share physical contact with everyone intentionally but me.â Walmer was getting just as mad, the humanâs visible agitation rubbing off on him. It made his remembrance of the care he received ever so distant, the connection he missed running away after giving volatile mixed signals. "Does this mean your actions at the island were also accidental?â He held onto that night, he hoped to hear, sense or see any type of negation, it had to mean something that the man wasnât scared to be near him then. He knew humans were supposed to apologize if they made a mistake, Hugo never apologized for holding him then, what happened wasn't a mistake.Â
âYer hung up about that? Look I respect ya, I only treated ya because it was an emergency, I'm sorry I made ya uncomfortable, it was never my intention.â No, no, no, why was he apologizing, Walmer wanted anything but that, he felt dread build up within his gills. âBut that has nothing to do with my other relationships⌠How I act with my friends is none of your business.â Hugo established sternly. He had lived plenty to know that he shouldnât feel shame for the way he bonded, his friends appreciated it, and if others didn't, he would never overstep and force closeness. He was respectful towards others, he expected at least the same back. âI wonât apologise for being comfortable with my friends.âÂ
âDoes that mean you are uncomfortable with me?â He continued to look at the tiny man for a response, disheartened by how fast everything was falling apart. Supposedly they already were within a friendship contract, so why wasn't Hugo acting the same way with him? âWas I under a wrongful impressionâŚAre we perhaps not friends anymore?â Walmer asked with barely alive hope for clarification.
The question broke Hugo from the ruminating trance, he realised they were not seeing eye to eye, he made a bigger effort to calm down and communicate properly. âBuddy, you're not hearing me. I wouldnât say uncomfortable nor that we aren't friendsâŚâ he chuckled nervously, a bit baffled with the situation. âBut I'm just giving you space⌠I thought that was what you wanted?â his mustache twitched as he pondered, it was true they had gotten along better the weeks since their castaway misadventure, but he believed the restraint in contact between them had been sufficiently cared for. Now this, such whiplash muddled any read on the situation, and like always, his solution was to fasten his pace.
A subtle change in how the spy's facial muscles rested clued in his relief, it was imperceptible, but the grey haired man almost caught it. âI do not require space apart, I want to be comfortable with you.â The feeling of Hugo's ephemeral caress still warmed up his face. âAm I required to engage in some sort of protocol for us to be comfortable?âÂ
âI don't think that's how it works man, you⌠I⌠we-wellâŚâ Hugo dragged on, unable to form a response to whatever the storm of questions tried to imply. If his Walmerese knowledge was correct, the blond was asking for⌠closeness? Why, it was pretty clear from all the time working together that he despised it. Something was going on, and it missed him completely. He saw the doorway to the lounge brighten their pathway, maybe that was his salvation, an escape to whatever was happening at that moment. His steps grew quicker, what could he even respond to that? âWhy are you even asking me this?âÂ
âI want to know when we will be comfortable enough for you to touch me againâ Their simultaneous steps into the room punctuated the sentence. The booming room became silent as surprise spread to the entire place, Hugo almost choked, Walmer just gazed as always, as if he hadn't dropped the most out of pocket string of words in the tank of gossip piraĂąas that were their teams.
âW-hat⌠the fuck are you talking about?!â The freckled man almost hollered, they didn't pay him enough for this type of situation; Hugo's eyes searched for Arthur in panic, only to see the man eating up whatever was going on, the bastard was enjoying it. He was alone with this then.
âHugo, I said I want you to touch me like you did on the island.â Walmer repeated, all the possible connotations those words had, flew past him and landed on their coworkers. Everyone was looking at them, and only one of the people standing was feeling embarrassed about it, how could it possibly get worse? âI desire to experience once more the heat of your hand on my person.â
That was a way to make it worse, and a few whistles could be heard from the crowd because of it, âGet a room you two!â The lounge erupted in laughter, and Walmer looked around confused, there was nothing funny in his communication to warrant such a reaction. He wasnât going to get it.
Hugo looked mortified, âY'all zip it! Itâs not like that, he doesnât mean it that way!â the man shouted, as rare as it was, the crews took a bit to quiet down, the people making mocking kissing noises taking a bit longer. âWalmer stop it, yer making it weird. Please clarify what ya meant before this gets blown out of proportionâ he whispered pleadingly, he knew Walmerâs speech was easy to misinterpret, but this one was the worst misunderstanding by far. Completely sure that by the end of the shift if things weren't set straight, news of them having explored more than the tropical forest would be making the rounds.
âWe already share a room, there is nothing weird or worthy of an explosion" Walmer said aloud, his voice booming with an unwarranted security. He looked back at Hugo waiting for approval, raising a thumb just as he was taught, looking for affirmation. Everyone burst into laughter again, small whispers repeating his words bouncing between the booths, Hugo groaned and slapped his face, needless to say he didnât receive a thumbs up back. He wasnât getting anything.
âWell that was thatâ The smaller man said defeated, a flush of heat in his face growing with his embarrassment. âEveryone go back to eating and minding yâalls business!â Hugo ordered, not knowing where to go to escape the situation, he just took the HR nightmareâs shoulder then dragged him away to the booth they were before, not caring for the contact breached at the moment. Walmer cared and he relished silently in the pressure the aged hand left, the neoprene absorbing most of the warmth before his skin felt it, but still, it was a start. He finally got it.
âSoo~ since when have y'all been a thing?â Arthur sang cheerily as they arrived at the booth, a teasing smirk exaggerating his wrinkles.
Hugo had a lot of damage control to do, and the break was almost over. They didn't pay him enough for this shit, that was clear.
"Within Your Shattered CaCO3" - Short stories (6/?)
Written by Amelien (Chobbemoe)
<<First part <Previous part
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
A TOUCH OF JEALOUSY
The break room was quiet when Walmer arrived, just before the lunch rush the lights were always dimmer and less headache inducing. He sat himself at the farthest corner available, the most hidden booth becoming the perfect place to set base. This morning shift had proved particularly exhausting, lethargy creeping up his spine after hours spent on hard labour and grime, he needed to recover though, as quickly as possible, he could never afford to move around sloppily.Â
Usual human methods proved useless on his organism, neither caffeine nor sugar made any energizing effect, the only exception was the less credible one. The nap, a short hibernation humans utilised for swift recoveries, was a baffling but apparently effective concept, as he realised not long ago. He only did it once successfully, and it felt like a risky endeavor, the probability of getting attacked during the menial rest very likely. Traiturous theories nonetheless, his energy drain proved so great, he was willing to give it another shot.Â
He folded himself in the empty booth in a pose so impractical, it would have given anyone else back pain for days. Not him though, it felt comfortable enough for rest to be plausible, his eyes getting accustomed quickly to the improvised darkness. His third eyelids started to move horizontally as he began to doze off, at first the nictitating membrane shifted warily back and forth, before fully covering the tired eyes of the nautilus. It felt like something suddenly switched off, a captivating submersion of quiet.
And as quickly it arrived, it was gone. Booming voices echoed in the room, it startled him awake, the flash of the industrial lights on full blast piercing through the translucent eye coverings. Walmer hissed while bringing his hands to his face, trying to soothe the sudden blindness he experienced, underwater curses mustered under his breath. With drowsy frustration, he tried to check his wristwatch, the sleepy blurriness difficulting the calculations of the wasted time. Except, it wasn't mere seconds what flew past, if the ticking numbers didn't lie, three-thousand-six-hundred seconds were invested, sixty minutes⌠An entire hour, gone in a blink.
The nautilus looked around baffled, the contrast sobering his state; the lounge was the exact opposite as it had been an hour ago, loud chatter coming from a buzzling crowd, the smell of food and humanity changing the airâs density, different groups sitting in the rest of the tables. How did it get past him so easily? He felt on edge, this would have never happened on any other day. During his tactical surveillance, Walmer's ocular landed on a familiar figure, Hugo. For some reason that evaded him, the sight of his coworker in the room made his body relax.
He started to analyse Hugo's interaction from afar, it involved another acquaintance, Arthur. This focus drowned out everyone else in the room, their conversation the only thing he cared to notice; the change in decibels from time to time, cackles and whispers sprinkled between their normal volume, i usually would have bothered him to hear them chit chat out loud, but this time he couldnât break his gaze away from the way both people moved. They were laughing, a sound Walmer learned meant they were enjoying each other's presence; they were sitting beside one another, so close their shoulders touched as they spoke, the spy couldn't process why, but it bothered him.
In their closeness, Arthur was laying his head on Hugo's shoulder, breaching contact even further while the conversation proceeded as normal, Walmer could feel his right eye twitch. The intimacy they were sharing felt outrageous, to be that near to someone, it was too much even for human standards. The subject of observation seemed prone to connecting with most of the staff with similar actions, at minimum hand gestures were given, then back taps, patting heads or, on rare instances, embraces; he knew because he tallied it mentally for a while, except, he seemed to be the outlier from such repetitive behaviour. Even if the gestures were unnecessary in the nautilusâ opinion, the general idea of being touched irking him to his very core, not being treated like the others bothered him more.Â
Weaved between his analytical thoughts, waves of less logical ideas creeped up. Flashes of the warmth of Hugoâs palm on his forehead from weeks prior, the subtle weight it carried, he could sense it linger and it made him feel weird. Then, out of nowhere, as if its purpose was to feed the uncomfortable sensation of brewing comparison, Hugo laid his cheek then kissed the top of Arthur's head. Nonchalantly, neither making a big show of the act, they just proceeded as normal in their chat while Walmerâs eyes widened; it showed regularity, maybe even routine. The observer's eye twitched twice.Â
âHugo, may I speak with you?â The nautilus jumped in, all his sleepiness falling off at once. He didnât know when his body decided to breach the room's distance, his height suddenly shadowing over the seated humans, but since he was already there, he would gladly break up their display. However, even if startled by his sudden presence, neither made the effort to separate. His eyes shifted to Arthur who looked back puzzled, still not bothered enough by the blondâs presence to move, the uncomfortable feeling grew, he shifted back to Hugo, he looked just as comfortable. â In private.â
The friends looked at each other then back at him, unspoken communication shared that Walmer did not understand; the pit in his stomach grew. âSure man, let's go outsideâ Hugo stretched up from the booth still grinning, then before walking away his hand rustled Arthur's jet black strands. âI'll be back soon, you better spill what's left, I'm invested now!âÂ
âYeah yeah, if you come back before I forget the restâ Arthur snickered, âOr I share it with someone else.â his long fingers brushed the mess back in place, then waved both goodbye with a smirk.
âFuck off you wouldnât dare!â Hugo roared, showing off his middle finger before turning it into a wave. Walmer remained observant in their behavior, retracing the gestures made mentally before doing small imitations with his hand. He was still bothered, he wanted to get it. âThis guy I swear,â the shorter man snickered with the fondness decades of friendship warranted, and the nautilus walked beside him silently, noticing and measuring it. âSay Wally, wanna share a smoke and ya tell me what's going on?â the brunette asked, his route was already made up, he just asked to be polite.
âSure, it seems adequateâ the blond responded, his walk purposely slower to go at the otherâs pace. Once they were alone in the hallway, the uncomfortable sensations within him simmered down, but they never truly left. Maybe the nap had messed up his homeostasis.
They walked in silence for a bit, Walmer retracing in his head how close the other two were sitting prior, in comparison, they seemed oceans away from causing any friction, maybe said factor was the issue. The thoughts weighed inside his cranium, drifting the stolen bodyâs inertia towards Hugo's gravitational pull, an unconscious test. He hoped to close in the distance as they meandered, however when the other unconsciously sensed him approaching, he shuffled his body away in response, maintaining the space between them. The squidâs posture deflated when he realised, the pit in his stomach growing as he hurriedly recuperated his original course. A strategic retreat, he didnât get it.
Once they reached the smoking areaâs doorway, Walmer pushed out the heavy doors hurriedly, keeping them open for Hugo to follow soon after. This action received a polite nod and thanks in response, it felt like a little win. The chilly sea breeze hit them both suddenly, even with the filtration nets draped over the outside area, it wasnât enough to cushion the cold. The spy seemed unfazed while the man shivered before zipping up his uniform, his hands soon searching inside his pockets for his vice and a bit of warmth. It wasnât the only thing empty at the moment, the space was also desolated, understandably so since most of the workers were still enjoying their lunchbreak, that included the usual smoker troop.Â
The smell of cigarettes past and saline spray permeated the area, sounds of heavy machinery humming in the background while the mesh barely disguised the oceanic views composed of purple waves reflecting the afternoon light. Both moons hung high in the sky, resting while showing only the first quarter of their celestial bodies. Hugo observed the landscape with a never fatigued wonder, taking the pack out slowly without breaking away his gaze from the view, he breathed in. âPretty ainât it?â the human mustered while placing his back on the cold wall adjacent to the door, Walmer followed, resting his frame beside the other, not too close, but not too far either. Trying not to overstep again, he watched the speaker then followed his sight towards the horizon.
âIt most likely is,â he whispered back, adjectives as abstract as pretty normally evaded the sea creatureâs understanding, but this time, looking at the shimmering waves from that point of view, he kind of got it. It was peaceful, his agitation seeming to drip away into the sea. In his reflection, a freckled slow hand shook an almost empty pack in front of him, the last two cylinders seeming to dance in wait. He took one between his cold fingers, then gazed back towards his sponsor who angled the box precisely so the leftover would fall into his mouth. The way the cigarette rested on top of Hugoâs chapped lips was noted by the observer, the sounds of the package getting crumpled with a single hand soon followed, it felt effortless.
Hugo didnât throw it away, instead hid it in the inside of his pocket, held between many other papers and a hand avoiding the cold. He shifted in place to make sure the doors were closed, then his vision drifted towards the blond, who was still holding the stick between his knuckles, his posture curved but rigid, his gaze blatant. Maybe weeks ago, if the human had noticed Walmerâs irises stuck on his face just like they were that day, he would have felt unnerved; but he didn't, he had gotten surprisingly used to it, never attributing bigger meaning other than just a harmless habit. âGot a light?â he spoke, his lighter already held out, a hand shivering slightly as he checked the gas a couple times.
Walmer quickly copied the manâs posture, clumsily holding the stick between his teeth before shaking his head in response. It was one of the few signals he fully grasped, a negation. Hugo nodded, his body scotching closer to the nautilus.Â
âIt's alright we can share,â he assured, his left hand igniting the little spark while the right protected it from the breeze. Walmer, noticing how the gap had reduced, stayed ever so still, observing unblinkingly how the man had placed his face near the fire, the stick almost touching the heat; he feared if he moved even a muscle to breathe, the human would scurry away again.Â
A few seconds passed in the awkward standstill, the heat concentrating on the lighter almost burned Hugo's thumb. He stopped pressing before it could, shaking his hand to temper both. âPsst blondie, I ain't getting any taller, you gotta come down if you want to light your cigâ he said with snark, Walmer nodded with surprise, this was permission and it felt good to have it, a silent affirmation and the lowering of his body were his response. With both creatures at eye level, another attempt was made.
âAttaboyâ, the freckled man chuckled, getting closer once more and preparing to ignite the flame, this time making sure to also supervise the otherâs stance. At that moment, even if there was space between them, the distance separating them was almost nonexistent, the tips of their vices mere centimeters away from contact, that was the closest they had ever been since the island. A similar warmth to the memory was carried inside the convective current, fed by the revived light hitting their faces. It made him think about that night. Walmer almost dropped the stick in anticipation, this was intimacy, a different emotion grew inside his stomach, this was closeness.Â
They stood watching the ends turn alight, the flame growing bigger as the corners charred; Hugo was the first to inhale deeply, his cigaretteâs ashes glowed a brighter orange then crept up towards him in response. Walmer just held his still, biting down trying to avoid its escape and waiting for a similar result that wouldnât show. A string of smoke began to part their eye contact, Hugo looked away first before flicking the lighter shut.
In an instant the flame was gone and with it the necessary closeness, the experienced smoker readjusted his posture while taking a step away. Savouring the starting essence of menthol and nicotine on his tongue, he exhaled the smoke in the direction opposite to Walmer. When he looked back, he realised the squid had stayed hunched in place, as if lingering in the warmth that wasn't there anymore, his cigarette's cinder was dimming in the absence of oxygen.
 âYou don't smoke much do ya?â Hugo asked while flicking his stick's white ash away. He didnât know what made it more obvious, if it was the way Walmer's teeth gripped the cylinder for dear life or how he kept comparing both cigarettes, one almost stagnant in the char while the other was burning away quite quickly, the differences in consumption visibly frustrating him. It was amusing, even a bit cute.
â No⌠I'vf nevefgh donâ thigs befoâ,â the taller one said slurringly, struggling to keep cigarette from falling as he talked. He was sure he missed a step or two but he didn't know which one, and looking for guidance wasn't working. It didnât help that a distracting emotion born from the nearness being taken away split his attention, another thing he didnât get, the list was getting infuriatingly long. Hugo side-eyed him amused before taking another long drag, each puff tasting more like minty nicotine and the guilt of bad habits creeping back, he parted the stick from his lips and blew away the smoke.
âHum⌠thatâs good, don't start now.â Hugo scolded him playfully, a light curtain of remaining fog escaping his mouth as he spoke. His next actions happened slowly, but still caught Walmer off guard.
When he blinked after his cyan eyes almost dried up from all the staring, vertically this time, purposely like humans do, out of nowhere a calloused hand was approaching his face. The blond held his breath in and his pupils split slightly, was it finally happening? The island came back to his mind and with it, a phantom pressure on his forehead, something was going to happen, and he could feel his fake lungs suck in air in anticipation.Â
âIt's bad for yaâ the subject of the spyâs thoughts spoke, snatching the dying cigarette away at the last word, the hastiness of his movements making the manâs knuckles accidentally brush the otherâs lower lip. Walmer had felt the friction, the breath he was holding dripping out from his agape mouth, the slightest cloud of smoke escaping from the gap dividing his front teeth. Hugo noticed, the feeling of golden stubble tickling his skin lingering more than it should have. They both felt it and the lack of words acknowledged it, only the sound of the stolen vice being put out against the wall spoke up.
âSorry about thatâ Hugo said while clearing his throat, a tinge of panic molding his facial wrinkles. Unconsciously he saved the slightly used cylinder inside his pocket and looked away, the way Walmer froze up was making his insides churn. Now a different kind of guilt built up inside his lungs, he took another drag to drown it out. âWâŚwhat did you want to talk about again?â The man stepped further away while changing the subject, trying to compensate for his prior invasion of personal space.
âAre you usually this prone to physical contact with everyone Hugo?â Walmer blurted out; he had many thoughts running through his system, the first was how the smoke tasted awful, the next was the disappointment of the cigarette being taken away despite it, another wondered if the burning feeling on his cheeks was due to the cylinder's spark, and so on. However, this question escaped first, direct and monotone, his freezing eyes watching in real time as Hugoâs relaxed pose changed into a more closed off position. Something was happening, and the whiplash of closeness was driving him mad, he needed to get it now.
âWhat's that supposed to mean?â the shorter man raised an eyebrow at the question, trying to process the multiple directions those words could be taken. He disliked most of them. âIf ya asked me here just to be snide, I'm going back to the lounge.â He sucked in another drag, not taking the time to savour anything, his leg began to bounce up and down, waiting for what Curls was bringing next.
âOh no stay, I'll explain!â The spy cleared his throat, not because he needed it, but as an acquired habit from Walter's mannerisms. âAre is the verb to be in second person, the action of existing, you is the su-â as Walmer spoke without skipping a beat, reciting the grammatical knowledge taught to him in the abyssal cell, Hugo jumped to cut his speech short.Â
â Ha. Ha. Okay yeah I see yer pulling my leg, this chat is over â the man said unamused, the half gone cigarette paying for it by being extinguished against the metal wall. The force of uneasiness killed it quickly, and a few extra taps for good measure at the rhythm of the manâs nervousness announced its retirement, into the same pocket the barely used one laid, ready to proceed their dance of addiction. He was in a good mood today, and his coworker was starting to sour it. As rude as it felt, he started to walk back to the rest area, an effort to put out the conversation just as efficiently, the taste of guilt lingered inside his throat, the feeling of Walmerâs skin still haunted his knuckles.
If Walmer was particularly good at something, it was at being stubborn, he moved with him, following his steps closely. Something happened, even if the human avoided his question, he didnât want to give up, they were so close, he was so close to getting it. âI think there is a mistake, I am not grabbing your lower limbâ Walmer excused with his same register, still a tinge of frustration seeding in the fact he couldnât get his point across. âI am trying to understand your behaviour.â
Hugo grimaced, those words struck a familiar wound, he didnât know if it was an accusation, a reprimand or something else. He didnât want to find out either, swinging the door open for his escape. He wanted out of the conversation, except for some reason, his hand still held the entrance long enough for his coworker to exit. It tasted like guilt inside his mouth, âIâm sorry about earlier, it was an accident, I didnât mean to.â
âYour approach towards me was unintentional?â Walmer spoke back, if Hugo didnât know any better, he would have thought that his follower sounded almost wounded. âIs your contact with the others also accidental? He was missing something and it felt unfair, the constant change of conditions between them confused him. Hugo didnât apologize when he kissed Arthurâs head, he didnât recoil when Karina needed a hug, he didnât avoid the entire Roughneck crew's fistbumps after a good shift; why was he treated so differently in comparison? He didnât get it.
âWhat the- Man it was a mistake, I already apologized for touching yer lip Walmer, I donât get where the rest is coming fromâ Hugo was getting agitated, the walk back felt disproportionally longer. With both hands inside his pockets, he tried to count the segments of his fingers with his thumbs, an attempt to divert his mental energy into anything but what was happening. It didnât help, it just made the feeling of the otherâs skin on his skin more blatant.
âI want to understand why you are able to share physical contact with everyone intentionally but me.â Walmer was getting just as mad, the humanâs visible agitation rubbing off on him. It made his remembrance of the care he received ever so distant, the connection he missed running away after giving volatile mixed signals. "Does this mean your actions at the island were also accidental?â He held onto that night, he hoped to hear, sense or see any type of negation, it had to mean something that the man wasnât scared to be near him then. He knew humans were supposed to apologize if they made a mistake, Hugo never apologized for holding him then, what happened wasn't a mistake.Â
âYer hung up about that? Look I respect ya, I only treated ya because it was an emergency, I'm sorry I made ya uncomfortable, it was never my intention.â No, no, no, why was he apologizing, Walmer wanted anything but that, he felt dread build up within his gills. âBut that has nothing to do with my other relationships⌠How I act with my friends is none of your business.â Hugo established sternly. He had lived plenty to know that he shouldnât feel shame for the way he bonded, his friends appreciated it, and if others didn't, he would never overstep and force closeness. He was respectful towards others, he expected at least the same back. âI wonât apologise for being comfortable with my friends.âÂ
âDoes that mean you are uncomfortable with me?â He continued to look at the tiny man for a response, disheartened by how fast everything was falling apart. Supposedly they already were within a friendship contract, so why wasn't Hugo acting the same way with him? âWas I under a wrongful impressionâŚAre we perhaps not friends anymore?â Walmer asked with barely alive hope for clarification.
The question broke Hugo from the ruminating trance, he realised they were not seeing eye to eye, he made a bigger effort to calm down and communicate properly. âBuddy, you're not hearing me. I wouldnât say uncomfortable nor that we aren't friendsâŚâ he chuckled nervously, a bit baffled with the situation. âBut I'm just giving you space⌠I thought that was what you wanted?â his mustache twitched as he pondered, it was true they had gotten along better the weeks since their castaway misadventure, but he believed the restraint in contact between them had been sufficiently cared for. Now this, such whiplash muddled any read on the situation, and like always, his solution was to fasten his pace.
A subtle change in how the spy's facial muscles rested clued in his relief, it was imperceptible, but the grey haired man almost caught it. âI do not require space apart, I want to be comfortable with you.â The feeling of Hugo's ephemeral caress still warmed up his face. âAm I required to engage in some sort of protocol for us to be comfortable?âÂ
âI don't think that's how it works man, you⌠I⌠we-wellâŚâ Hugo dragged on, unable to form a response to whatever the storm of questions tried to imply. If his Walmerese knowledge was correct, the blond was asking for⌠closeness? Why, it was pretty clear from all the time working together that he despised it. Something was going on, and it missed him completely. He saw the doorway to the lounge brighten their pathway, maybe that was his salvation, an escape to whatever was happening at that moment. His steps grew quicker, what could he even respond to that? âWhy are you even asking me this?âÂ
âI want to know when we will be comfortable enough for you to touch me againâ Their simultaneous steps into the room punctuated the sentence. The booming room became silent as surprise spread to the entire place, Hugo almost choked, Walmer just gazed as always, as if he hadn't dropped the most out of pocket string of words in the tank of gossip piraĂąas that were their teams.
âW-hat⌠the fuck are you talking about?!â The freckled man almost hollered, they didn't pay him enough for this type of situation; Hugo's eyes searched for Arthur in panic, only to see the man eating up whatever was going on, the bastard was enjoying it. He was alone with this then.
âHugo, I said I want you to touch me like you did on the island.â Walmer repeated, all the possible connotations those words had, flew past him and landed on their coworkers. Everyone was looking at them, and only one of the people standing was feeling embarrassed about it, how could it possibly get worse? âI desire to experience once more the heat of your hand on my person.â
That was a way to make it worse, and a few whistles could be heard from the crowd because of it, âGet a room you two!â The lounge erupted in laughter, and Walmer looked around confused, there was nothing funny in his communication to warrant such a reaction. He wasnât going to get it.
Hugo looked mortified, âY'all zip it! Itâs not like that, he doesnât mean it that way!â the man shouted, as rare as it was, the crews took a bit to quiet down, the people making mocking kissing noises taking a bit longer. âWalmer stop it, yer making it weird. Please clarify what ya meant before this gets blown out of proportionâ he whispered pleadingly, he knew Walmerâs speech was easy to misinterpret, but this one was the worst misunderstanding by far. Completely sure that by the end of the shift if things weren't set straight, news of them having explored more than the tropical forest would be making the rounds.
âWe already share a room, there is nothing weird or worthy of an explosion" Walmer said aloud, his voice booming with an unwarranted security. He looked back at Hugo waiting for approval, raising a thumb just as he was taught, looking for affirmation. Everyone burst into laughter again, small whispers repeating his words bouncing between the booths, Hugo groaned and slapped his face, needless to say he didnât receive a thumbs up back. He wasnât getting anything.
âWell that was thatâ The smaller man said defeated, a flush of heat in his face growing with his embarrassment. âEveryone go back to eating and minding yâalls business!â Hugo ordered, not knowing where to go to escape the situation, he just took the HR nightmareâs shoulder then dragged him away to the booth they were before, not caring for the contact breached at the moment. Walmer cared and he relished silently in the pressure the aged hand left, the neoprene absorbing most of the warmth before his skin felt it, but still, it was a start. He finally got it.
âSoo~ since when have y'all been a thing?â Arthur sang cheerily as they arrived at the booth, a teasing smirk exaggerating his wrinkles.
Hugo had a lot of damage control to do, and the break was almost over. They didn't pay him enough for this shit, that was clear.
Walmer chill out nobody gonna take that cookie awayyy.
"Within Your Shattered CaCO3" - Short stories (5/?)
Written by Amelien (Chobbemoe)
<<First part <Previous part Next partďź
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LEARNING TO BE HUMAN
The human grimaced, the shape the soldier had taken looked like his reflection, but it was slightly off, the arms almost reached the floor, the face unnervingly stiff, the irises overwhelmingly blue. The overall shape was better than before, but the way the stolen skin wrapped over the copy was still wrong. Every nerve in the hostages screamed âThat isn't humanâ, and they were right in their outrage, however, it was getting awfully close, the creature was adapting disturbingly fast.
Had Walter been braver, he would have intentionally sabotaged this process, leaving the alien to be wrong on purpose so when the rest of the crew came to the rig, they would notice the imposter and eliminate it. But then again, Walter was not the brave kind, if his kidnapper was killed what would be of him? No-one else knew he was taken thousands of meters deep into the sea, he could rot in that coralline womb and his colleagues would be none the wiser. It was increasingly obvious his survival was tethered to his raptor, his life promised in return for his cooperation. He wasnât brave, but he hungered for life, so he took the deal passively, his guts churning a bit less whenever he thought of getting back home.
- You still don't look right - the statement bubbled out of Walter. Despite being in a completely unknown place, the phrase rang just as dragged as it did back home. - You aren't supposed to look like that -
The sea inhabitant tilted their head in response, observing silently their reluctant advisor before a low vibration echoed from within the still gilled neck. Then they got closer, long gangly hand were reaching towards the man who started backing away on instinct. When the contact was breached, the palm's texture felt coarse and weighted, the strength it held anchored unnaturally hard into the arm, threatening to break it off with ease. Walter tried to free himself of the menacing hold, alarm rising inside him as the creature's limb started unraveling, the fake skin split into wrangling tendrils, approaching, holding with the intention of taking regardless of the resistance of the human. Walter wanted to go home, his heart started to beat uncoordinated, and the beast could hear it.
- No no wait wait, I'm cooperating, I'm useful - The human pleaded while images of his family tried to calm him down, still the grasp felt just as disgusting as the first time he experienced it. The cold humidity of the bifid ends scraping his skin made him feel ill, it itched as the blooms of his resistance were making the toothed ends dig deeper. He wanted to go home, but the creature just looked on coldly as more guttural vibrations resonated, face expressionless as the observation lingered. The tugging became stronger while the copy engulfed everything up to the trembling elbow. - Stop it, get off me, LET ME GO PLEASE - Walter's screams cared not for the integrity of the vocal cords forming them, they muffled the compliance as survival was taking over. He wanted to live, he wanted to go back home, but the pain took him back to reality and they were taking over, piercing blue irises witnessing the struggle without blinking, the beast unfeeling, their hold encroaching closer and closer to the human's shoulder. He was scared, his heart beating faster, all the blood rushing to his extremities in a fight or flight alert. He couldnât fly.
Walter's free hand tried to drag away the slithering tendrils, his efforts panicked and sloppy, he was not a soldier, he was not trained to fight off weird lifeforms trying to rip his flesh off and wear it on themselves. He was sent there to watch after the dog and take measurements to study the planetâs viability. He wasnât a person of interest worthy of interrogative torture, he just knew what he was taught. His only fighting skills surfaced when his body moved on his own, kicking with a force born out of fear, pulling away the tentacles his nails dug into fueled by self-preservation, his fight was neither effective or logical, it was clouded by adrenaline, it was primal. He was not a soldier.
- IT HURTS - the blond man heckled agonizingly before biting down on the crawling mass scraping his skin, since his pleas fell on deaf ears, his body still fought for freedom. In a terrified attempt to escape, Walter sunk harder on the mass attacking him, thoughts of home molded by his teeth, thoughts of his wifeâs embrace creeping in as he lacerated a few of the tendrils away, echoes of his children's laughter mixing in with indigo liquid that poured out of wounds created with struggle. He wanted to get back home, however, the monster did not react to the maiming, they just looked on as the human kept the useless fighting and the percussion in their chest increased.
The broken threads did not stop moving once ripped away, in fact, as the metallic taste invaded Walter's mouth, the fragmentsâ radulas began to scrape the roof of his palate, it was nauseating. Leaving burning sensations with their path, they took a sample of the flesh, attacking the nerves, they scratched the teeth for the bone, tasting the blood from swollen gums and testing the muscles of a horrified mandible. Everything probed for examination, everything taken under the watchful gaze of the unblinking monster.Â
Walter heaved as the tubes travelled down his neck, drowning gurgles emanated despite his free hand trying to pull them out, stomach acid and reflux fighting against the intrusion. They slid down his throat, his larynx and pharynx, all the way into his lungs, taking away his air and voice with painful disregard. Everything was being ripped away, all aspects of the body he had built himself for years stolen, uncaring and violent. He was choking, the need to hurl out all the contents in his stomach heightening by the second, but he couldn't since a cold net of invading tendrils weaved itself blocking his airways. He was scared out of his mind, a frightened wetness warming the lower half his uniform as he tried desperately to pull them out, twitching and grovelling against the hold. He felt like the scared child he stopped being twenty-five years ago, crying out for help that would never come.
Fear and ache were taking hold within him, to fight only for the threads to go even deeper, the taste of bile and bloodied spit numbing his mouth. His brain screamed in alert that despite his compliance, he would probably not get back home. It was painful, even as he kept fighting the consumption, the impostor could be felt creeping everywhere inside. His organs were getting scraped from within, radula greedily taking samples of the tissue, it made Walter's senses aware of his own insides, all the guts and nerves palpitating in frantic chaos; when it breached his circulatory system, the irrigation cut by invading tendrils disrupting the bloodflow, throbbing pain began to grow as swelling made the invaded veins on his arms and legs feel warmer, a painful static taking over; Walter no longer wished to go back home, he just wanted his neuronlink to flash red three times and be gone, quick, no more pain, exonerating.Â
His skin was getting separated from the fat as the monster ravished the adipose tissue, everything itching as they crawled, it was maddening; the inside of his drowning lungs were getting bloated by the still air, unable to expand or retract as the tentacles compacted his thorax, feeling caged and desperate, only his heart was still moving, pumping with all his might, threatening to break out of his chest in terrified anguish. He wondered why it hadn't been activated yet, was his struggle not enough to make him worthy of mercy?Â
His heart's freedom did not last long either, tentacles began to wrap around his aorta, slowly encapsulating the organ as it beat faster. It felt claustrophobic, the tendrils squeezing while the beat was fighting to go on, holding on so painfully that between the overwhelming nausea and pain, Walter felt himself extinguish. Had he been braver, had he been a soldier, had he been a fighter, maybe he would have persisted a bit longer; But he was none of that, he was just a worker, a lover, a father and a human. His struggle started to fizzle out, his kicking weakening as his muscles ached in tiredness, he was losing consciousness, or was he dying? The human couldn't tell, but he wished it was the latter.
The creature tilted his face again, a low hum echoing inside its hollow body while it observed the human's movements cease slowly. One click, two clicks, three clicks. His legs stopped kicking. One click, two clicks, three clicks. His arm went limp. One click, two clicks, three clicks. The chest stopped its beat. One⌠Two⌠ThreeâŚ
The only things moving were the threads, which suddenly stopped their pulsations. Shifting in unison, they started retreating back into the copy, dropping carelessly the limp body on the floor as the broken pieces crawled out, coordinated and swift from inside; Every tendril took the information needed for further mutations, but the beast couldn't hear the percussion held inside the ribs anymore, vacant grey eyes looking back this time as the tentacles folded and weaved into an arm.Â
It looked almost identical to the original, save for the inked markings that covered the human's extremities. Blue oculars compared the length of the newly formed arm with the faulty one, stretching both and leering while fixing the differences. The muscle fibers separated and shrunk, fatty tissue redistributing over it while getting covered by veins, nerves and epithelium, everything layered just like the real thing. Testing the new appendages capabilities, they moved the fingers uncoordinated, observing as tendons pulled down the wrist when closing the digits in. Then it discovered the new range of motion on the wrists, nothing they had witnessed before, they moved it in circles, a freedom their previous anatomy never had. One hand passed over as it felt the movement, falsified goosebumps making the stolen body hair rise.
- GrglughâŚhrg - the sounds of metallic and meaty breaths rebounded from the floor.
The ripped mass that smothered the human's life creeped closer to the imposter, it was pulsating and twisted, the tendrils having fused into each other in the shape of collagen rings and warped vocal cords. The growing tissue twitched, weak gusts of moist gargles exuded with every movement, ligaments and muscles forming around shaping the muffled sounds into whispers.Â
- Hrg..urmglâŚgrssh - slurred gargles began to take shape.
The beast's oculars fixated on it, punctual clicks resonating as it approached, a clumsy hand dropped over the grovelling structure, hard-hazardly grasping it with such great strength that it almost splattered into nothing, the stolen throat was reforming the broken parts with ease, it could be heard vibrating with the imitation.
- âŚHurgâŚgrzht - something more cohesive attempted to resound.
The gilled neck started to split open as the vibrations continued, exposing its own innards as broken and ghastly sounds reverberated in the cell. While the copy engulfed the cartilage, damned whispers escaped, or at least tried.
- âŚHuâŚrtgrl⌠- it was getting closer.
Walter's corpse started to lose warmth, all the musculature in his body relaxing at last. The beast started to hear how the remnants of life left the human, with the absence of tension in the muscles, fluids rushed out, the involuntary release of saliva and other fluids crawling out of his cavities.Â
- âŚHur..tgrz⌠- it could be heard from cords hugged by newly formed tissue, wet and palpitating.
The imposter crawled towards the body, observing the stillness without expression. They poked the side with the stolen forehead, the force pushing the corpse to lay down completely on his back, no response, still silent.Â
- âŚHur.zgls⌠- It was getting closer.
They placed one hand over the quiet torso, just over where the beat used to live. In the stillness the beast hummed, vibrating at a register completely different from before, the ocular's pupil widened with the sounds and the pigments of the irises began to brighten. As a buzzing increased, without warning, they released from the palm an electrical charge. Walter's body jolted, but the life did not come back to his eyes.
- âŚHurgths⌠- the soldier's cords dripped, it was taking shape.
The smell of burning skin permeated the cell's air, a branched mark made testimony of the monster's action. They looked on, then placed both hands on the torso, in comparison to the real skin, they looked sickly pale and without any of the written history Walter had lovingly put on his flesh. The first error the beast corrected quickly before preparing another shock, the second appeared harder to replicate.
- âŚHurths - there was a struggle, but still it was getting dangerously close.
This time, the bigger charge sunk deep into Walter's flesh, it reached the fibers of his cardiac muscle with nimble sparks coursing through his entire body. At first there was stillness, then from the silence, a timid sound could be heard between deflated lungs. It beat once, then twice then thrice; the sunken chest began to rise, life breathed within once more, the smell of sizzling skin accompanying the revival.
- Hurts - it did it.
The human gasped, the pain in his chest as intense as a thousand kicks to the ribs. Walter was dazed and nauseous, the first thing his body did after returning to its life duties was to recoil and spout out all the contents in his stomach. The beast observed it still unmoved, the skin on their palms just as damaged as Walter's chest, however, while he continued throwing up, they regenerated the damaged tissue with ease, a perk of being the stronger lifeform.
- IgtsâŚHurts - the creature regurgitated.
Walter's vision was blurry, his eyes dry from having been open for too long, salted tears trying to remedy said problem as his wheezing continued. He was too busy noticing all that made being alive disgusting to look back at the copy, to notice the stolen syllable; in the brief time Walter had been gone, his mind covered with memories the walls of his cranium, but only one thought remained both in life and death.
- IT HURTS - The recording of his past screams played back at him, uncannily engraved in neatly visceral quality. It was his voice, his words, his fear but it was not him who said them, a slightly grainy texture coating the words, it was not him. While he stopped grovelling on the floor the taste of acid reflux and half eaten breakfast was still on his mouth, the smell of death and decomposition still permeating his pores, it was then when his eyes trembled towards the imitation. He was scared to look back, but he couldn't help it, he needed to know.
- IT HURTS⌠- The monster remained still, observing. - IT⌠hurts⌠- Still, mocking. - HURTS⌠It⌠- Still, waiting. - It⌠- They were playing with the sounds of distress once hollered in agony, with an unnerving coldness, an stillness improper for the situation. - HuRt - It was just testing, it was just learning. - âŚhUrTs - Getting accustomed to the feel of a throat that wasn't theirs, forming words from lips moving out of sync and sharpened pearly canines protruding out unseemingly, cutting every letter carelessly.
The blond felt a tremor within him, nerve endings firing up at the scene, they made the hairs on his skin raise. Maybe it had been better not to look back, maybe it would have been better to not have been brought back from the nothingness after all. Being alive again meant hope, but also fear, moreover his weakened heart, which still felt too inflated against the marked ribs, rose up once more in adrenaline and terror, creating increasing thumps that drowned out the copied screams from his ears.
It was certainly better, or at least his body thought so, to just go back to non consciousness. In a last resort for protection, everything turned to black again, Walter fainted, and part of him was thankful. He hoped that he was living a horrible nightmare to wake up from, wishing so very hard to the stars and everything above to just open his eyes again and see the beautiful locks of his beloved once more, to get up from their warmed bed and go visit his children once more, for everything to just stop aching. He bargained inside his drowsy mind that he would never take his life for granted again, that he would do better from then on, just in exchange for the horrors to be over.
If Walter had remained conscious a bit longer, he would have felt naive for throwing his faith up into the unknown waters above. For all he knew his wishes could be taken by the currents to the surface, or crumpled by the pressure of the Bathial slopes and sunken. Either way, he had no way of knowing, and maybe it was better if he didn't.
He was never a soldier after all.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
[Interview With A Monster AU]
All nausea and wreckage and vomit and ugly cruelty.
(AU by @chobbemoe-art )
SWANSEA MY SHAYLAAAA
"i want them to make each other worse" i want them to have an impact on each other that's hard to define as objectively good or bad but is still sure to change the trajectory of their lives and alter their very being on a fundamental level forever
court jester sucking the king silly right there on his throne, in full view of the guards
His stupid little hat jingling away
the king develops a pavlovian response to jingling bells
I may have done some bullshit muehehhe. Go my 16 hr rendered medieval au oc slop.
đđđđ
Cw: suggestive sloppy toppy with pavlovian jiggling bells
Had to exodia this fucking bullshit, whatever, go my suggestive art.
No wonder none wants to post suggestive art in this website if it gets snipped the second it comes out. I hate it here, literal rape apologetic art is posted here without issue but normal intimacy between two adults is terminated on site? Give me a break
They can suck me off idccccc
CAIN dump mb guys i forget that i have a tumblr
PEAK POLICE, YEAH ITS THAT BUG MAN AGAIN, GET EMMMM
SPRINTING SKIDADDLING AWAY PLEASE DO NOT ARREST ME
Im taking my baton out, IM COMING FOR UUUUUUU MUAHAHHAHAHAH

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
CAIN dump mb guys i forget that i have a tumblr
PEAK POLICE, YEAH ITS THAT BUG MAN AGAIN, GET EMMMM
Day 2 Inktober: Weave
Day 3 Inktober: Crown
A few extras lmao, that puppy is how I feel thinking about my ocs
These grandpas make me sickkkkkk
Go my pridelings goooo
"Within Your Shattered CaCO3" - Short stories (4/?)
Written by Amelien (Chobbemoe)
<<First part <Previous part Next part>
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hang in there (part 2)
â I did not want you to die â
Hugoâs eyes widened, his grip on his rivalâs shirt weakening as he processed what was said. It hit him inside his ribs, the shock that someone like Walmer, who he considered having a quite apathetic relationship with, actually cared was hard to believe. However, if any doubt remained that what the blond said was true, his pained expression and breaky breathing, which were uncommon for the spy, reaffirmed his truth. The blue gaze weighed heavy on Hugoâs shoulders, sobering his thoughts.Â
During the silence, he realised how deeply he had messed up, he was getting angry and behaving like a douchebag towards the person that had saved his life, piling all his frustrations unjustly on the only person who was crazy enough to drop after him. The blondâs methods were not the best, but the question asked was still relevant, Why did he jump? Flashes of his loved ones revolved around Hugoâs mind, everyone he would have left behind, mainly his daughter Anemona, his best friend Arthur, the rigâs guardian dog Laika. None of them had come to mind when he ran towards the abyss, blinded by guilt and panic. Hell, he did not think of himself either, the weight of his past making his fall faster and harsher, he wasnât thinking at all.
Hugo looked to the sand he was standing on, while letting go of the red fabric he stepped back from Walmer, giving back the space anger pushed him to invade. He murmured softly â IâŚdid not want to die either â he paused, because he could see how clearly his actions said otherwise. â I donât want to die, I am still useful, I donât know what got into me â Hugo grumbled, he could savour in his mouth the words he needed to say, the five letter word stung though, he hated being wrong, acknowledging he made a mistake was always difficult. â You are right, it was dangerousâ the apologetic man looked towards the sea trying to avoid his saviourâs gaze, not waiting to see his response.
He analysed the landscape, from where they were the oil rig could be seen at the horizon, its titanic size reduced but still awe inducing, even when the sun started to set and the structure was surrounded by mist, a white beacon shining at the helipad was discernable; with this information, hoping for rescue did not seem far-fetched, they just needed to let the others know they survived the fall.
â At least you acknowledge it â Walmer's husky voice sighed, his hearts still beating fast, but at least he got a semblance of an answer from Hugo, who after hearing those words, looked back eyes full of remorse. â You can have it back â the sea monster threw the necklace softly at the man staring, watching how he scrambled to catch it in the air then held it ever so tenderly once in his grasp. < I still do not fully get it >
Hugo held on relieved, the familiar mass of his treasure warming up his palm. â Iâm sorry I dragged you into this mess â The dreaded word finally was set free, a weight leaving the man saying it, and surprisingly, the one hearing it felt the same. â and⌠thank you for looking out for me â the last few words were softer, it was the first time Walmer heard that tone from Hugo, that was new.
â You did not drag me â Walmer said, putting his curiosity aside for the new pitch, his pride was first after all, even if Hugo was the closest thing to an equal the nautilus had met on the rig, how dare a rigling think they were able to influence him? â All my actions were made under my own judgement, you cannot command me â he reaffirmed while walking towards the sea in a hurry, compelled to leave the conversation, maybe just to make a point, and look cool during it. Maybe, it was to hide the bit of dark scales still present on his hands, the anomalies in his disguise proving inconveniently present with Hugo around, this situation continued to be a threat to his mission.
â Got ya â Hugo responded, they were back to the same old, and in a way, that was relieving. â Not to shit on your plan to swim back to the rig â the tanned man added while he observed Walmer do the same calculations he thought before, a small grumbling could be heard from that distance. â But we should get a light going before it's fully night, so not to command you, but could you help me get some materials? Anything flammable or food will doâ a light shiver covered Hugo, the afternoon breeze was turning colder as the crimson giant was setting.
Walmer scratched his head staying pensive for a while, he then came back not defeated, but not triumphant either in his planning. â Understood, but only because it's mutually beneficial â The sea monster protested, he could swim back to the rig if he wanted to, but leaving his rival behind didnât seem reasonable, the riglings would question him even more, there was no other reason why the nautilus disliked the idea, or he wanted to make himself believe there wasn't. â Again, you do not command me, I'm the one in charge â he added, trying to regain some semblance of control in the situation, the Gods of the currents know he lacked that during the entire debacle.
â Whatever you say blondie, let's get on with it â Hugo rolled his eyes, bickering was certainly more comfortable than confronting the vulnerability shown prior. They walked towards the interior of the island, the shorter man catching up to his rival turned cooperator while guarding his precious ring, putting it inside the pocket over his heart, a sprinkle of conversation and banter began to echo their steps.
Slowly but surely, the peach sand cushioning their dragged footing began to be replaced by vegetation, turquoise blades of grass-like plants and blooming white flowers were dancing softly to the wind. Walmer was focused on the mission, determination on his step to make everything right, on the other hand, Hugoâs attention began to wander, looking around admiring the blooms, puffy pompoms waving as the castaways moved deeper, their walk waking up glimmering bugs that flew away from their path.Â
One of them landed on Hugo's reflective uniform, wings jittering before hiding under gilded elytra, The shorter man gasped in awe, a gentle buzzing coming out of the being as it walked carefully over the humid clothes. Against his better judgement, Hugo placed his index finger in front of his new friend, which the bug crawled over. He observed it by angling his calloused hand with withheld excitement, the golden bug staying still for a moment before at last, fluttering its glistening wings and parting to the sky, a soft â Bye bye little fella â being mustered by Hugo upon departure.
Between the blades of the heightening grass, oblong violet-green spotted leaves sprouted from meandering vines, they seemed to move towards the extinguishing light of the sun and climb over every heightened surface available. Over the lively vines, elongated crawlers wrapped their reddish bodies around the bigger leaves, swift mandibles eating from a white substance emanating from Lilac flowers that sprouted at the base of their leaf stalks;Â the shorter man couldn't help quieting down and admiring the view while they walked, it was finally hitting him that they were off rig, and that they were exploring uncharted territory. His hands passed softly over the leaves, textures from course to velvety being felt on his fingertips, he closed his eyes for a minute to feel it better, the sounds of wildlife accompanying his sensations.Â
The sea monster was not impressed by the view, since similar vegetation grew near the colony he had infiltrated a century ago, a bit of botanical information having stuck with him despite the years of hibernation. He was thinking deeply about everything he needed to do, for food he knew what plants could be edible for his species, but for humans? That was another problem entirely, mammalian digestive systems were still a mystery for him. He also thought of the light situation, he knew the humans harboured knowledge of how to ignite and create light, but it was a skill yet to be seen in practice, what was something flammable? Was any of it available on the island?Â
Along his thoughts for survival, the uncomfortable acknowledgement that the human had made him feel something, that said something making him lose all rational was getting buried; he chucked up his actions as a single atypical event in his behaviour, a mistake that would not be repeated, it was not in his nature to fear, even less to worry. He tried to not look at the human too much even when talking, trying to make his thoughts about him disappear.
Suddenly, interrupting the calm coastal murmurs and arthropodial chirping, an alarming rustling was heard from within some dense bushes. The sounds scared away most of the crawlers, who dug themselves underground or fluttered away quickly. The plants from where the noise came from were partly covered in vines, the felted magenta leaves shaking lightly with the noise.Â
â Did you hear that? â Hugo whispered as he stopped, the pair had snapped out of their respective distractions, tensing up when they heard it paying attention to the motions. Walmer nodded before putting himself in front, extending a hand to signal for the human to stay put as the rustling grew. The blondâs eyes closed, concentrating so the receptors on his crown could sense the heat of the creature approaching, it was a warm blooded and not particularly small. He lowered his body, taking a defensive stance in preparation.
It was creeping closer, branches cracking under the weight of the unknown animal; it was coming closer, leaves shivering and falling upon every move; it was moving closer, Hugo clenched his jaw looking at everything happening in dilated nervousness, he couldnât stand not doing anything; it was the closest, and Walmer was ready to fight, his muscles tensed up for battle. At last, from the violently moving vegetation something pounced towards them at blink fast speed, a guttural screech announcing its increasing proximity. The high pitch stunned the spy's senses, his weakness to sound painfully zapping away his attention at the last second.Â
â Watch out! â was shouted, but the nautilus couldn't make out any of the words, only a sudden impact on his right side was felt alongside the thought trashing scream echoing inside his head. With the force of his entire body, Hugo had pushed Walmer out the way, putting himself in the beast`s trajectory and taking the hit, the force of the impact lounging his body meters away. Taken off balance, Walmer was only able to look back at the harsh landing on the grass, the beast latched on his face, a whine heard upon impact.
â No! â The spy screamed still dazed, scrambling to get to his coworker's body, it was awfully still, only the armoured animal was moving. The stillness was familiar, he had been the cause of it in other beings, during the war, for his civis or just to survive, he had witnessed it continuously for all the centuries he had been alive, but this was the first time it truly disturbed him. His throat dried up in dread, it couldnât be, he ran, ready to strike away the growling creature, after all his efforts it couldnât be over just like that.
â UghâŚWalmer WAIT! â Hugo shouted just in time to stop the strike, flailing his arms up to protect his attacker. â I'm okay! Don't hurt it, it's just sniffing me! â He spoke from the ground, grateful that nothing aside from what was already hurting on his overworked body ached. The fall was harsh, yes, but the grass did cushion most of the impact.
Despite the terrible introduction, the armoured animal was indeed only smelling Hugoâs face, its long snout poking around while its whiskers tickled his skin. The creature had a mix of traits the man found fascinating, first it had a long pair of bug-like antennae and two deep-black compound eyes, which watched him back with curiosity. Its fluffy cream coloured underside contracted with its iridescent-blue back, which was solid and chitinized, the carapace segmented in five parts, one covering the head, three overlapping body segments each with a pair of legs that ended in double clawed paws, and the last protected a long tail that wouldnât stop wagging up and down, since it landed on the manâs torso. The being was slightly smaller in size than Laika but weighed just as much as the oil rigâs dog that loved pouncing on her favourite humans whenever possible, Hugo being one of them made this scene feel all too familiar. The shock had been a bit much on him though, needing some time before sitting up, the tanned man had already all but forgotten about the fear he felt moments prior.Â
â WhatâŚâ Walmer didnât forget though, looking at the panorama, he was feeling everything but calm. It happened again, and his first heart was on his throat, as he stood still, the beat of the other two were palpitating throughout his entire body in panicked chaos, adrenaline coursing through his hemolymph heightening his senses, all his stress responses had awoken, for this? He felt fear, deepseeded dread not once, not twice, but thrice in a single day, and the person the worry belonged to was laughing carelessly. As if it was nothing, as if the fall was nothing, as if the drowning was nothing, as if a wild animal latching onto his face was nothing. â What the fuck is wrong with you â The nautilus never filtered his words, but this time, they were the rawest he had ever spouted. â Why would you do that? Do you lack any sense of self preservation entirely?! â for the first time in centuries, Walmerâs hands trembled, his head still pounding from the sound wavesâ shock and his racing thoughts.
â A lot -hey hey stop licking me- a lot is wrong with me â Hugo sat up, his spine popping in place with quite an unpleasant sound, his back maybe wasnât broken, but it wasnât all that good either. He took the interrupting animal in his arms, petting it while he continued talking. â I donât know⌠I guess I just wanted to repay the favor â Walmerâs words didnât hurt him, he had been asked that question a million times, feigning ignorance always worked as a response. But this time he knew, deep down he felt like letting Walmer put himself in harmâs way for him was unfair, when his own potential was all but close to none in comparison, if someone had to get hurt, it was more useful for the younger man to be safe instead of him. Being protected felt like a debt, too many bright people tended to extinguish around him, and that always felt unfair. â Now this makes us even â the tanned man chuckled, while the armoured rodent continued to express its curiosity by licking, sniffing and nibbling.
â Even? EVEN?! â Walmer did not find it amusing, his head threatening to explode. It happened again, and even if it was a false alarm, seeing how the human kept playing with the animal was like salt rubbing on his wounds. â Stop it now â Walmer ordered, but Hugo didn't listen, and it felt like a mockery. It wasn't even, not when humans lived a measly seventy years compared to the thousand he was projected to experience; it could never be even when their flesh was bare and exposed compared to the layers of protection his mantle offered; It would never be even when unlike the nautilus, it was in their nature to trust, to care and to mourn for others. â Stop touching it! It could bite you â he insisted, aggravated trying to take the creature away from Hugo, only for the man sitting to back away.
Â
â I know, anything with teeth can bite â He explained while getting up, holding the animal carefully while facing the blond. The statement was simple, but built on years of experience, no matter the species, human, dog, sea creature and whatever he had in his arms, they all could and would bite if pushed to it. He thought of it as a fact of life, if something couldn't talk it would bite to communicate their limits, and for what it looked like, the animal in his care felt quite comfortable only licking the salt on his uniform. â Relax, just look at the lil guy, he is so cute and calm now. You, on the other hand, look more likely to bite me than he is â Hugo joked, feeling the tension in Walmerâs stance, his wild messy hair and tethered clothes giving him an unhinged energy that the shorter man hadn't seen before.
â He just attacked us a minute ago! What are you saying?! â The nautilus exclaimed, still trying to swipe the creature away, however his movements were sluggish, allowing the human to keep getting away. The scene was awfully familiar, but the parallels were missed by both men. Hugo felt like it was a playful endeavor, Walmer was taking it with frustrated seriousness. âAlso I would not bite you in a million years, you look like you taste awful! â was said with an all too matter of fact tone, the nautilus insulted by the idea of being a man eater, he wouldnât stoop to that level. They continued their waltz of avoidance, getting deeper and deeper into the growing vegetation as the bickering grew.
â And you smell awful smartass, but I just keep that as an inside thought â Hugo replied, getting away thanks to Walmerâs movements being slower since the stunt, he was relishing on the illusion of his lost agility. He thought of more comebacks, holding his furry friend gently as he ushered backwards. â Hold on, I actually want that same energy if we donât get saved for a while, yeah I taste like shit you are right -Oof â his words were cut short by the sudden feeling of filamentous bark slamming against his back, the force of the impact making a big red fruit to crash on the ground. Hugoâs eyes travelled down to where the pulpy mess laid, only to look back up and see that Walmer had already caught up to him, caging the escapee by placing both arms on the dark stem and causing another ripened fruit to fall off the top.
â You should worryâŚ. about something else⌠I think we have enough food⌠for a while â Walmer declared, with deep breaths breaking his speech. Normally he would never be this tired from just running, but the energy spent by jumping, swimming, fighting and trying to keep his human shape together, were valid causes of his burn out. â That thing included â the sea monster added with a vengeful tone, his right hand attempting to grab the animal by his shell, which caused the rodent to stop his snuggling and curl up in a ball.
â Hey, stop being an asshole! And donât say that about Pochi! â Hugo reproached by swatting the hand away, then he turned his body slightly trying to create space between them. It didn´t help much since his rival seemed unmoved by his actions, unimpressed even. â I would eat you first before you could try getting to him â The human joked while scratching Pochiâs carapace, trying to comfort the fearful creature as he rested his aching back against the bark.
â You already gave it a call? Don´t do that! Stop bonding with the thing! â was exclaimed with certain disbelief, to Walmer, the rigling ability to attach themselves to non-human entities had to be studied, especially in the subject in front of him. The nautilus had to grab harder onto bark to anchor his bafflement, ochre filaments covering the plant coming undone upon his touch.
â Yar just jealous that Pochi is better at making friends than you are â Hugo snarked, poking his tongue out in derision, his silver piercing sparkled with the light of the slowly emerging moons. He stepped closer to the accused, slowly making space for himself despite the otherâs effort to keep him still.
â I do not need friends â Walmer responded quickly, puffing up his chest in pride but threading back at the accusation of him being bad at something. His allyship skills were subpar compared to the shorter man yes, but that was because he hadnât found any practical use for them, relying on others was not a useful skill for him, he had always worked alone, save for the Substrate War and, admittedly then during their interrupted search for materials. â Therefore, I do not make friends â
â Huh hum⌠I donât know, saving and worrying about me it's very friendly behaviour to me. You agree, don't you Pochi? â Both Hugo and Walmer glanced towards the creature, who finally uncurled, poofed up then shook quickly, some of his shading going off everywhere before emanating a softer chirp, a response that Hugo took as a yes and celebrated eagerly.
â Hey! Pochi, why are you agreeing with him?! â Walmer exclaimed surprised at the 2v1, then he noticed how Hugo raised one eyebrow and both him and the fuzzy creature, once again snuggling on his arms, were smugly looking at him, he was not understanding their reaction. Then his face grimaced when he realised, he had called the rat by its name, he called the damned animal by the stupid made up call, an act very much out of character for him. Everything that day was unlike him and at the root of it all, the human was always the cause.
Walmer slammed his hand on his face, he already wanted off that island. â NgkâŚForget I said⌠wait â he stared again at the man, eyes slightly widened in realisation. â Did you just imply that we are friends now? Is that how you make allyships?â Now the one regretting his words was Hugo, he indeed had said the f word, he grimaced in realisation, maybe he did hit his head too hard on the way down. â You go around falling off places and whoever catches you becomes your friend? â the question was genuine, despite the slightly sassy tone that escaped the blondâs mouth.
â I⌠well I mean, no, not really.â Memories of how he met Isabella for the first time flashed before his eyes, when they were kids he did drop from the playground and got caught by her before becoming friends, the coincidence was amusing, nostalgia and grief filled him during his reminiscing, it had been so long since then, the weight of the ring inside his pocket felt heavier. â I guess we are friends if you want to be friends⌠Would you like that? It's okay if you donât â he quickly added an out, in case his rival disliked the idea of getting on better terms.
The man knew it was not the usual friend making method for people his age, to just ask for it outright? No, that was considered abnormal, the intended way was a dragged on chain of rituals composed of increasingly confusing signals being exchanged, to be checked off a list, before coming to the unspoken agreement of platonic connection, and sudden usage of pal instead of man. Hugo was acutely aware of that tradition, since he had trial-and-errored it until he knew how to get it right, but this time, he felt that after what happened, skipping procedures was more than reasonable.Â
â I â Walmer paused, and he thought about it, part of him surprised by the deliberation. Moments prior he had declared his inability to bond with humans was purposeful, however, it was true said skill was one of the various qualities explored during their months of competition, which the spy hadn't managed to replicate. â IâŚâ It was undeniable, the riglings had persisted on the planet part thanks to his hive mentality, maybe he could get some use out of having allies; it could mean new intel for the mission, a better grasp on the humansâ psyche and, most importantly, more possibilities to break this weekâs tie on their daily manager competition. â I would aâŚaâŚAACHOO!! â a sudden itching on the spyâs borrowed nose interrupted him, an uncharacteristically high-pitched sneeze escaped.
Breaking Hugoâs concentration and making the fuzzy animal jump, with more fur flying off after, the sound had clearly surprised all of them. A bit of silence formed before the shorter man bursted into laughter, meanwhile Pochi started climbing his face and Walmer watched on perplexed, analysing his own body trying to register where that sound came from. â This is the first time I hear you sneeze â the freckled man said between giggles, â Didn't expect you to sound like that at all â.
â It is⌠-sniff- the first time this has happened, â Walmer said with a bit of horror, his face feeling congested and drippy as he poked his body in search of the source of the noise. Patting down every part he sensed was involved, trying to study if the vessel he inhabited was broken or not. The rigling body was certainly perplexing, even months deep into his investigation he always found new features or faults on their design, this one was clearly the latter.
â Congrats â Hugo patted Walmerâs shoulder between chuckles. â I think you just caught your first castaway cold blondie â

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
That one Castle funny moment (sorta traced pose)
He is looking at his fuck ass bf
The fuck ass bf in question and their adopted daughter
Justicia gang is the traditional family
This would have done numbers in twitter but I refuse to download that app.
[Edit]
WOW, This art has made numbers omg. If yall would like to see the speedpaint and hear a bit of my thoughts on the movie, here is my new YouTube video! Please leave it some loveee heheheh
