autober

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AUtober - Day 31 Halloween

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AUtober - Day 30 Costumed

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AUtober Day 29: Law and Crime

Prompt from @autober

Saga's already got the mythological name, the supernatural powers mainly used for solving mysteries, and the unhinged family drama, so maybe she should have joined the Wright Anything Agency instead of the feds. So Ace Attorney-esque Lawyer AU ft. co-counsel Casey.

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AUtober day 28— Supernatural

I forgot to post this yesterday but here’s Tanjirou from a random vampire au I have that I may or may not expand on in the future!!

“The boy next door is always so kind, but there’s something a bit off about him and his family. Be careful…”

(Also there was a prompt I missed that I really want to do, so expect that later)

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AUtober - Day 29 Law & Crime

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AUtober Day 24: Espionage

Prompt from @autober

Took this as an opportunity to finally come up with designs for my OCs Fox and Rivas from my Control fic Letters from the Dead. This is the AU where Fox took the "sexy and mysterious spy" route instead of "get a government job I hate". (Rivas is still Rivas.)

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AUtober Day 27: Service

Prompt from @autober

This one turned into "what is the most absurd OC do I have that I could draw in a maid dress" and the answer I went with was "the century-old corpse with a fog spirit embedded in its chest in an act of taboo magic to harness the void and create a barely-controllable weapon of war".

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AUtober Day 26: Gaming

Prompt from @autober

I don't think Chris and Sadie are the same page about what genre they're in.

(Background picture taken from here since I didn't want to draw one)

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AUtober - Day 27 Service

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AUtober - Day 26 Gaming

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AUtober day 11: Urban Fantasy!

I took a break yesterday because I've been really physically and mentally exhausted (after my partner mentally wrestled me to agree) More of Honey's friends, featuring Bunny!

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Oc tober day 25: oldest age oc + most different from yourself + sports and competition

I really tried to avoid drawing him until now cause he is still a wip.

He has gone trough several redesigns but i am never satisfied, i can never seem to nail his look, even the name, i keep using bad placeholders...😓 that is a shame, because conceptually i live him, he's my special mentally unstable man :3

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AUtober - Day 25 Sports & Competition

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AUtober Day 22: Robotics

Prompt from @autober

OC Sadie as some kind of doll robot? Idk, this one's more of a metaphor for her backstory than any sort of concrete AU. Also Liar Liar of the new Aviators album made me want to do a messed-up doll/puppet.

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AUtober - Day 24 Espionage

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More Autober!! This is a sci-fi espionage AU, so I guess it counts for both the 3rd and today. :D It's Helen/Menelaos/Paris and mature in tone (for sex-related reasons, though no sex happens).

Paris woke up to an insistent tone in his ear, as if a mosquito had almost become musical and was trying to crawl inside. He almost slapped himself before he remembered what that was.

Suppressing a groan for having been so woken, he very carefully sat up. Helen's arm dropped down to lay his his lap, where Menelaos' already was, having been slung low over his hips. The bed was a mess of covers and hair, and Paris grinned. Then winced at yet another beep in his ear, somehow more strident than the previous ones, though that was impossible.

It wasn't like anyone knew what he was doing, or thinking. It was a one-way signal only.

Allowing himself a breathy little sigh of satisfaction, Paris extricated himself from the embrace by shifting back and up, stepping over Menelaos' head so as to disturb husband and wife as little as possible. Menelaos muttered something wordless and incomprehensible in his sleep, settling back with no more than that. Helen frowned, but as soon as her sleep-heavy hand closed around her husband's forearm, she subsided.

Figured it was the wanassa of Lakedaimon, city-fleet, offensive vanguard and defensive wall in one of the disparate systems of Achaia, who'd be the one to react most to something being out of place.

Yawning around his smile, Paris picked up his clothing from the floor under the soft, blue-green light of the Hyperion gas giant the moons of Achaia belonged to. The large, curving porthole was only partially shaded down for the ship-cycle's night, and it drenched the bedroom in a dreamy, water-tinted light. It made it easier to see, yet also stole all the definition out of everything, softened the phthalo-deep shadows until they bled out into patches of pale aquamarine.

He dressed mostly on feel, nearly scaring himself into noise as his sleeves got stuck unexpectedly. It was just the cuffs they'd used during play, however.

Pausing for a moment, Paris felt around them, but his thumb slid over the lock without doing anything. Rolling his eyes and shrugging, Paris quickly finished dressing. He'd forgotten to make sure his prints had been included when they set up the cuffs. In the moment, it'd seemed plenty safe that both Helen and Menelaos could unlock them, and he'd been busy, at the time.

Smile once again creeping up on his lips, Paris smoothed his hands down the thin armour skin he'd had packed away among his other clothes, closing his eyes as he adjusted himself. Even if the armour skin was sturdy enough, despite how thin it was, that all he could really feel was pressure, not the heat of his palm. It was also ungiving enough to not give his eager cock more space than to twitch partially awake at the memory of having as much of Helen's breast in his mouth as he could manage while Menelaos put the cuffs on.

Ah well. Later.

Twisting his hair up in a bun, Paris took in husband and wife on the bed one last time. Their faces relaxed in repose, turned closer towards each other now that he wasn't taking up the middle, and their strawberry-blond and dark brown hair intermingling prettily, though in Hyperion's watery light there was little difference in colour.

The sigh that wanted to escape this time would've been far too heavy to allow to do so. Would've hurt too much, if only in the knowledge that he'd gotten all he would ever get from this. Two weeks was so little, in the end.

The receiver in his ear beeped again, angry.

Flapping a hand though the receiver was deaf and dumb to such gesture, Paris turned around on his heel with a jaunty sway. Slunk soft-footed across the floor, one hand reaching for his earring and the other for the door mechanism - and fell against the door face-first as the mag-cuffs activated with a sub-hearing thrum going down into his bones.

It would've been pleasant and could've teased the reawakened remnants of his arousal, except his nose hurt.

"Wh---"

Snapping down on the reflexive confusion, Paris froze as the rounded muzzle of a gun was pressed to the back of his neck.

"What were you after, then, dog of Wilusa?" Helen murmured in his ear, darkly firm as she leaned in behind him until she was pinning him full against the door, his arms trapped between unforgiving metal and his body body.

"I don't know," he protested, glancing behind him.

"Don't pout and give me that look, Alexander of Taruwisa. You have no innocence to give me and no escape, so you might as well confess."

Helen thrust one leg between his, pressing it in and up. Further pinning him, to be sure, but there was also pressure against his balls, not so much threatening as threateningly pleasant, and the presence of her sleekly muscled thigh pushing up against his ass and slightly, even in the armour skin, pushing the cheeks apart was a little - distracting.

Not too much, so. How, or maybe more importantly when had they figured out who he was?

"You misunderstand---"

Both of them flinched as the light turned on, Menelaos' confused grumble quickly silenced. He left the bed without bothering to dress, as naked as Helen was as he came up to lean with his shoulder against the mockingly closed door, arms crossed over his thick chest. An eyebrow arched, he didn't seem angry, but then, Menelaos was gentle until he was not.

"Already? Fortunate we figured things out, then."

"Indeed," Helen said, and Paris could just barely see the smile on her lips. The pleasure in her voice was even more obvious, though both cooled as she tapped the muzzle into the soft spot behind his ear. "Now, as I said - you can just as well give up whatever it was you were sent for. You couldn't have sent anything out of here even in the two weeks previous."

So they'd only figured it out recently. Maybe - hopefully - only yesterday, though in the end it didn't really matter. It didn't change his current - ah - position.

"I don't have anything," Paris insisted, smiling easily. "As I said, I don't even know exactly what it was we were after."

He could make a guess, certainly, but there were several things, of varying use but all important, either to the Achaeans and their offenses, or to Wilusa and its defenses.

"Pari--- no, Alexander."

Helen closed her hand around his sloppy bun, unfortunately well-made enough to not unravel as she yanked his head back, and Menelaos grabbed his chin, turning his head towards him - and against his wife's pull. Paris whined, just slightly, flinching under Helen's weight, but neither of them let up.

"Are you even doing that intentionally?" Menelaos asked, shaking his head slightly for him, which only pulled on his neck even more and Paris groaned in protest, tears blurring his vision.

"I don't think he can help himself," Helen commented, and even if her hand didn't let up, and neither did she move her weight, there was a shade of warmth, a ghost of fondness, in her tone. It immediately hardened as she continued; "But that won't help you, baby boy. I admit I don't really want to take to harsher methods to unearth whatever you were trying to do, but I know enough to tell you'd be able to take said methods even less. So - do us all a favour and confess, Paris."

"Ah---"

Grimacing against the fingers digging into his cheeks, Paris tried to blink his eyes clear of tears. Was met with Menelaos staring down at him, amber eyes hooded, but his veiled gaze couldn't hide the edge of regret that lay like a knife in the soft corner of his mouth. Menelaos was the softer between him and his wife, but right now there would surely be very little succor to gain from that department.

"I have confessed - nhg - all I can, I promise. I don't know what we were seeking, because I wasn't the one sent here to get it. And I don't know exactly when the ones that were sent even began their missi--- ah!"

Squawking, Paris lurched against the door and Helen's pinning grip as Menelaos slapped his ass, hard.

"Distraction? You were distraction?" he snapped, tapping his cheek and then not waiting for answer, though what silenced Paris was merely Menelaos brushing his thumb over his lips.

"Can't deny he was very good at it," Helen said with a sigh, pulling back - and then giving him a second slap on the ass with her gun. "But were there plans for you to be caught too?"

She turned him around with the grip she still had on his hair, and Paris grimaced, the earlier slaps still stinging enough the pain made him honest instead of merely batting his lashes coyly. His earring dangled, comfortingly heavy, but Helen's gaze sharpened.

"Menelaos, take that jewellery off him and then we'll have a talk. I would bet Sparta herself on that it's a stealth system."

Ah, fuck him to the Dark Earth and beyond.