Writing Sketches [18+ edition]

[skinstealer]

aaaaaaaaa the sketches go here. these ones are a bit more hardcore and might contain ~light horny~ so be warned (they will all be cw'd)

[skinstealer]

Deadbolt- 2023
Ringor Mortis (with some check-ins from B. Comorant)
Matthias, Punch Clock Animal
There's too many signals.
CW: Implied ambiguous violence, sadism + torture, misgendering, vomiting, gore

---

Still in range.

Matthias bites his lip, sucking in air before letting it out as an aggravated exhale.

They have to be doing this on fucking purpose.
Giant meat wall of a dog- if you can even call that kind of bloodsucker that- thinking they can waltz right into my territory.
My turf. They know better. They fucking know better.

Thirty years had been a long time for Matthias to get used to the sensation of Bucket in proximity. It had also been plenty of time for the Judgment to get ahold of more cultists, breaking them down and fusing them to their body, their arm a patchwork mess of Spit worshipers, all in order to create a radar that goes both ways.

For Matthias, this means an endless world of noise.

Signals he can’t block out, letting him know when any of the people whose flesh are fused into this nightmare of a limb are nearby- no thoughts. No voices. But he can feel when they hurt, and when they hurt others.

And he always knows when they’re close.

It’s enough to drive him up a wall. He couldn’t care less about any of the other cultists finding out about whatever sick, violent pleasures he indulged in or vice versa, but the fact that Bucket could-

He knows what would happen if they came for him. If they found out he wasn’t playing nice when they were close enough to take action on it…

He wonders if there’d be a word uttered, or a gesture made- or if all they needed was to think about it.

Sometimes Bucket would take from him, or the others in the chain. They’d siphon off from him until he threw up blood, leeching every bit they needed to recover from injuries the person last added to the arm’s quilt left. Sometimes they take so frequently that he swears it’s for fun, that they not-so-secretly delight in torturing their trophies.

He’d considered telling Chelsea. Just to fuck with her. To let her know just how much of a fucking sadist her sweet, gentle partner is.

But for all he knows, they’re still in contact. He knows that she and the rest of the freaks in her head are explicitly off limits. All of the other members of the cult they’d gotten ahold of know the same, and every single one of them stares at the karacel with utter hatred in their hearts.

From Consumption’s best punching bag to untouchable.
What a shitshow.

He stays in his room most days, door deadbolted and chained multiple times over. Bucket had yet to find his actual base of operations, not since he’d moved last. It’d been a few years of security, but he knows he has to leave sometimes. To eat, to work, to seek out any semblance of satisfaction. It’s enough for him to grind his teeth until they ache, his dreams tormented with their hand around his neck. Reliving it, over and over, no matter how much nightmares are supposed to be his territory.

No matter what he does, he can’t fight it. He’s completely at their mercy, the other dog enjoying his squirming and discomfort just as much as he had enjoyed theirs decades ago.

…he knows a sore spot, though.

One that makes the corners of his mouth turn up, just enough.

You’ve got one weakpoint in your armor.
Finger on the pulse, always tracking us down…
But we’ve got eyes and ears, too, you miserable little shit.
You may have been able to protect your sweetheart, but…
You can’t save everyone.
Especially not him.

[skinstealer]

Cursor- 2023
Ringor Mortis + ???? Mortis
Halley + Hazard, unknown TCP project
Fuzzy memories of pixel folders, all containing creatures.
CW: None here, but further continuations off of these character exchanges will include CSA/violence

---

 
It’s late when Halley walks into their apartment’s living room, later than they were ever expecting their roommate to be up.

HALLEY: …hey.
 

Hazard turns his head away from his laptop just enough for the eyeball type to see his eyespots, saggy and tired looking.

HAZARD: Hey.
HAZARD: Sorry if I woke you up-
HALLEY: You know I don’t sleep til like. Hours from now.
HALLEY: S’all good.
HALLEY: But you’re not really an allnighter, last time I checked.
HAZARD: It’s…I don’t plan on making a habit of it…
HAZARD: Just got caught up in a game.
HALLEY: Oh yeah?

The eyeball type hops over the back of the couch, making the touch type jump in surprise.

HALLEY: Is it a cool game?
HAZARD: It’s, uh-
HAZARD: I’m not sure if you’d like it…
HALLEY: You don’t even know what games I play, only been here a month.
HALLEY: Try me.
HAZARD: I guess…
 

He sighs, leaning back.

HAZARD: It’s this old game- okay, not old, but it came out around when I first spawned.
HALLEY: How many years ago?
HAZARD: …ten.
HALLEY: Damn, you’re older than me.
HALLEY: Somehow I always figured it was the other way around.
HAZARD: D-
HAZARD: Do I come off as a kid, or-?
HALLEY: Nah, but you’ve got the vibes of someone who like…
HALLEY: I dunno. It’s hard to say.
HAZARD: If you figure it out, let me know…
HAZARD: …but I guess I did always peg you as older, too.
HAZARD: You’ve got your shit together more than me…
HALLEY: Nah, nah, that’s got nothing to do with it.
HALLEY: It’s not even the experience that gives me the vibe.
HALLEY: More…
HALLEY: You still let shit stick to you.
 

He visibly bristles at Halley’s comment, the eyeball type lifting their hands up apologetically.

HALLEY: Nothing meant by it, man.
HALLEY: Not a bad thing. Just means you’re sensitive.
HALLEY: Most TCPs I’ve met get more jaded as they get older.
HALLEY: You’ve still got this like, spark.
HALLEY: S’a good thing.
HALLEY: Maybe not that shit upsets you easy, but shit also makes you happy easy.
HALLEY: Just gotta find a balance with it, you know?
 

The touch type untenses, Hazard nodding and looking down at his laptop screen.

HAZARD: I guess that does make sense…
HAZARD: Sorry for assuming the worst.
HALLEY: No prob, I didn’t open real good there.
HALLEY: …but tell me about this game.
HALLEY: You been playing it since spawning?
HAZARD: Pretty much…
HAZARD: It was installed on some of the TCPdex’s computer lab rigs.
HAZARD: Not all of them, so I don’t think it was like, standardized- I had to learn which ones had the goods.
HALLEY: Yeah? And what kinda game are we talking?
HAZARD: …this virtual life game, it was simple, but it was so charming…
HAZARD: You’d adopt creatures to raise and do stuff like dress them up and play with them.
HAZARD: There’s a lot of games like that nowadays, but I guess I got back into it this week because some guy on the forums keeps talking about his “spiritual successor”...
HAZARD: Kind of went off the rails, though.
HALLEY: Off the rails?
HALLEY: What, did the pets go rogue?
 

The solemn look Hazard gives them makes Halley burst out laughing.

HALLEY: No way!
HAZARD: Yes way. The dev team had to get construct licensing and everything.
HALLEY: That’s fucking crazy, dude!
HAZARD: It is!
HAZARD: But…this game is just a game. And right now, that’s what I’m comfortable with.
HAZARD: I’d go to the lab just to play it, whenever I could.
HAZARD: It was always so painful when someone else had stolen the rigs with ones I was really invested in…
HALLEY: Brutal. So you couldn’t see your little guys if it was all full up?
 

Hazard nods.

HALLEY: That’s gotta be hard.
HAZARD: It felt like the worst thing in the world. I think complexes call it “their stomach dropping out.”
HALLEY: Yeah. Yeah, I get that.
HALLEY: Did you ever manage to get a rig of your own?
HAZARD: Not until I left.
HAZARD: But…
HAZARD: …
 

He trails off, Halley tilting their eyeball-head.

HALLEY: You okay, bud?
HAZARD: …yeah. Just thinking.
HAZARD: It was one of my first experiences. Playing this game as a reward for a trial well done.
HAZARD: It was probably something simple. I don’t even remember it that well.
HAZARD: But I remember adopting my first little guy.
HAZARD: Named it Snowball, even though I’d never seen snow.
HAZARD: Just…felt right.
HALLEY: That’s cute.
HAZARD: Yeah? You don’t think it’s stupid?
HALLEY: Nah.
HALLEY: Makes me wish I had something like that.
HALLEY: I never really had games or anything growing up.
HALLEY: Spawned in the woods.
HAZARD: For real?
HALLEY: Yeah.
HALLEY: No big deal in the end, I was only a few days walk from civilization and all.
HALLEY: But a few days turns into a long ass time when you get lost, you know?
 

Hazard goes quiet again, nodding.

The silence starts to gnaw at Halley, the eyeball type raising their hands again and waving them.

HALLEY: Seriously, it’s no big deal.
HALLEY: If you want, I could even tell you some cool stories sometime.
HALLEY: Halley’s forest adventures. Get em while they’re hot.
 

That gets a laugh out of Hazard, Halley breathing a subtle sigh of relief.

HALLEY: …you can tell me cool stories sometime, too.
HALLEY: About the pet game, or the facility, whatever.
HALLEY: We’re roommates now. We gotta have each others’ backs.
HAZARD: …thanks, Halley.
HAZARD: What if…they’re bad stories, though?
HAZARD: Sure, I’ve got some good ones here and there, but there’s not a lot…
HAZARD: Just…the pet game, really.
HALLEY: Works for me, I’m tough.
HALLEY: In return, you have to hear about how I had to fend off beetles with a stick.
HAZARD: You did not.
HALLEY: Did too.
HAZARD: Oh yeah?
HALLEY: Yeah.
HAZARD: What kind of beetle.
HALLEY: Dude, you think I know how to identify beetles?
HALLEY: Let me tell you, this guy was big and red. Like, redder than you’ve ever seen…