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who wants make out in the lumber section of the home depot?

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girls call me a beautiful puppy while choking me til everything goes black 🥺

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tall girls deserve to feel small too

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girls really do ask to go hiking with me and then offer to step on me with their hiking boots 😖

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your "digital footprint" is where the robot girl steps on u, usually sternum or above ur paws. Hope this helps

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gods ive gotten hotter

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being a pet for my wife is much better than sinking into despair and selfloathing :D

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GODS to be blindfolded and tied up by my wife and not know what shes going to do to my helpless body hhhajklsfhasjksghjkl pup is her good toy and wants it to be proven.....

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lmao i love feeling like im going to be sick thinking about actually making art and writing and liiterally anything creative. totally a wonderful feeling -_-

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You saw her for the first time in the hangar, disembarking from her mech as you boarded your own for a mission.

Her machine was a stark contrast to your own, a hulking mass of reactive armor bristling with guns, nestled in its bay at the other end of the hangar from your lithe, lightweight interceptor.

For just a moment, you found yourself staring at her, running your eyes over her face, her hair, her skintight pilot suit, some cross between a threat assessment and wonder floating through your head, before she turned to lock eyes with you and you scrambled into the cockpit to escape her gaze.

When they said you were so good they wished they had more of you, you thought it was just empty praise — a way of saying they were happy with your combat effectiveness.

You never would have dreamed they meant it literally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the usual night terrors wake you late that night to a shadow standing over you, you nearly take it out at the knees before it resolves into her figure, holding a pillow and shaking. You freeze, arm latched to the back of her leg, a single movement away from sending her crashing to the floor.

She lets out a whimper as you release her and sit up, gazing into those eyes, the same ones you see reflected in your mech's cockpit screens in the moments before they flash on. You can't bring yourself to tell her to leave. You motion for her to sit on the bed next to you.

It's striking how different that small motion is from how you do it. Her movements are slow, hesitant, tremoring, while yours are all confidence and impact and speed.

She sits straight up, still holding her pillow. You slouch beside her, leaning back on your hands.

Immediately, she begins apologizing. For frightening you. For hiding from you. For them not telling you what they did. For existing without your consent.

You tell her it's ok, ask if it's ok to put an arm around her shoulder. She says yes. You tell her you know it wasn't her choice, that you understand why the higher-ups didn't want you to know. You're upset about her, but not at her. You don't tell her those thoughts.

You ask why she ended up in your hangar if she was supposed to be a secret. She thinks someone messed up, in the way that gets them worse than discharged. You ask why she came here. She says there's nobody else to go to. She's a project, not a person. She doesn't get to spend much time with anyone who treats her like a human. Treats her like you.

You can't help wrapping her up in a hug. She leans into you silently. It's too dark with the lights out to see her face, but you can guess what's on it. Drops fall onto your arms, leaving little wet dots on your sleeves.

After some time, she takes a shallow, shaky breath, and starts talking again.

She wishes she could pilot a mech like yours, something fast and agile, something she's confident with. You can't help bringing up that yours can't take a hit, that every bullet or missile that touches your frame could be the last. She doesn't care.

She tells you that her machine frightens her. That even though it survives every impact, it doesn't stop her from being shaken and shook and shocked through the hull. That she dreams of the drumbeat of shells on her armor and that in those nightmares they one day make it through.

In your mech, she tells you, she could weave through it all like you do. She could be free to move, free to run, even if she could be shot down at a moment's notice. Every thundering shell roaring past the chassis would shake her just as hard as an impact in her mech, but she would take that as a sign of life, not another small step toward death.

You cave and tell her. That you had a heavy mech like her once. That you felt that same terror of the enemy pounding out a rhythm on your skin.

You tell her that she's right.

You tell her that freeing herself of that heavy, invincible form that draws so much pain and brings so much despair is worth it, even if it means she could burn out and be left no more than a memory in an instant.

She really is just like you.

You ask if she wants to stay. You remember falling asleep alone, sobbing under the blankets, hiding from the world because being seen hurt too much. You can't leave her to feel the same.

She asks if that's ok, if she'll be in the way. You respond by pulling her down to rest next to you, wrapping your arms around her and drawing the blanket over you both, not far enough to cover your heads.

With her so close, you can feel the outline of her body easily. Her shape is a perfect copy of yours, but even going to sleep she draws in on herself, edging away from you and making herself small. You respond by bringing her in close again, an arm across her torso so she can't get away.

You feel her tension slowly fade away as she relaxes against you, and she takes another shaky breath, different this time. You know this part of her, too. It's not a fearful, anxious, tear-filled gasp for air. It's the one you take after those ones are past, the first full breath you take after you've cried all there is to cry. The one you take when you know it's going to be ok.

In your arms, the other you's breathing slows as she drifts off to sleep, and you find yourself following.

She'll be gone in the morning, like a wisp on the wind, but not forever. You'll see her around in the hangar, the cafeteria, the halls. Now you know she's there, she won't stay hidden, and you'll hope that one day you both make it home.

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Being a lesbian is so ROUGH what do you mean this girl sent me a photo of her 2009 Republic Gunship lego set she put together & all i can think about is her kissing me til i black out

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Being a lesbian is so ROUGH what do you mean this girl sent me a photo of her 2009 Republic Gunship lego set she put together & all i can think about is her kissing me til i black out

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y’all do we fw human bionengineered for deep sea research meeting a mech pilot from the surface?

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Reblog if you'd love an autistic tgirl even if her autism isn't something you can just fetishize into something cute and quirky

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i like tboy paws