#the fact that I know I've left things out is in and of itself exhausting me

[rockinlibrarian]

You Should

Wake up bright and early.

No, wait, feed the cat is first.

Feed the cat.

Wake up bright and early.

Give your spouse physical affection.

Help spouse get ready for work.

Clean the poor cats' food area sometime.

Throw out old food before it gets bad. Or maybe even eat it first.

Get dressed. Your clothes must be clean, wrinkle-free, appropriate for the needs of the day and for the weather, and they must fit properly and be flattering.

Well why HAVEN'T you been to the bathroom yet?

Get the kids up for school. They should be getting themselves up for school, they won't live with mom forever. If they don't get up on time, well, why didn't you get them up?

Take your medication. Make sure the kids take their medication. They should be taking responsibility for their own medication, they won't live with mom forever. If they don't take their medication on schedule, how do we know what's actually working or not?

Get the kids breakfast. They should be getting their own breakfast, they won't live with mom forever. If mom doesn't get them breakfast, they forget to eat. Also it should be a balanced breakfast, never mind the picky eaters. If they don't eat breakfast, they fall asleep in class. Why aren't they getting their work done in first period?

Make the kids do the chores they should have done yesterday. Yes, before school. Don't let them miss the bus. Your kids should be at the bus stop ten minutes before it is scheduled to arrive. Don't let them stand out in the cold.

Sign this paper for school. It was due yesterday. Also I need money for this, too. Why is it taking so long, we're going to miss the bus!

Get breakfast. It should be a balanced breakfast. Don't eat your kid's abandoned half-bagel. Don't let food go to waste.

This is the school calling. Sign this paper your kid should have given you two months ago. Do we need to send another copy?

Make doctors appointments. Make dentist appointments and also separate orthodontist appointments. Make counseling appointments and also separate psychiatric appointments. Make vet appointments. Make optometrist appointments. Make an appointment about your car. But not at that place, the other place, that specializes in that other thing. Our office is open between the hours of 9 AM and 4 PM, and is closed for lunch between 12:30 and 1:30. Please call back during our regular office hours.

Feed the cat. It's too early to feed the cat. Don't ignore your poor cat who is obviously in need of your attention.

You forgot your breakfast.

Stay up to date with current events. Call your senators. Volunteer. Give money to this cause. Give money to this other cause. How can you let such atrocities exist? Why are you not protesting? Amplify marginalized voices! Not those ones, THESE ones! Also, raise your own voice! Except not yours, we don't actually care what you have to say. Why aren't you contributing your voice? Don't like, REBLOG! Likes do NOTHING! Why does nobody ever like what you post? Maybe because nobody cares what you have to say. Why do you never post? Read everything. Leave comments. Care about your friends' lives. TALK to your friends. Nurture your support system. Get off of social media. Find new friends, then.

Time to go. What do you mean you have to go to the bathroom again? Why didn't you go before? Get more water. NOW feed the cats. Weren't you supposed to bring something? Find your keys. Put them in the same place every time and you won't have this problem. Make a homemade lunch, those frozen meals have too many preservatives. What do you mean you're late?

Don't speed. Don't be late. Call if you're going to be late. Don't stop now, you're going to be late. Don't use a cell phone in the car. Get gas yesterday.

Why are you out of breath? Wait to sign in. Sign in on time.

Keep a tidy workspace. Don't forget anything. Your ADHD brain needs visible organization techniques. Other people don't want to see that.

Stay up with correspondance. Don't email, phone. Don't phone, email. Talk to me in person. I'm busy right now. Why did you never tell me about that? Why don't you communicate better?

Plan programs that are engaging and educational! You're running too long! You're letting them go too soon! Clean and shelve and research grants! Don't spend all your time at the desk. The desk must be staffed.

Greet everyone who comes in. Chat! Respect their needs! Don't bother me! Be friendly! Talk! No, talk about NORMAL things!

Keep the collection up to date! Don't weed anything! It's too crowded and messy! Why don't we have the latest and greatest new books?

If you can't handle it, maybe you shouldn't work.

We don't have enough money, and you're smart, you should have a good job.

Go shopping! In person! Don't spend a lot. Don't waste money on junk. Why do we never have anything I like?

Make homecooked dinners. Make healthy dinners. Not that. No one but you will eat that.

Lose weight. Buy more dessert. The emphasis on weight is misdirected and doesn't really affect health. All your health problems would be eased if you lost weight, including your breath, balance, and bad foot. Exercise. Get your foot checked out by a doctor then.

Did you make that appointment yet?

This house is a pigsty. Then make the kids do it. Don't do it for them. Why is everything piling up?

You're always tired. Call the doctor.

Why don't we play games as a family?

You NEED to watch this show and/or movie.

Why don't you write books like you always said you would?

Make time for yourself.

Shower. Brush your teeth. Clean the bathroom.

Get to bed early.

Don't snore.

Feed the cat.

Originally posted on my Dreamwidth: https://rockinlibrarian.dreamwidth.org/294751.html

[libraryofgage]

Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Two

Part One

Have I already posted something today? Yes, yes I have but also I finally got through my block on this one hfjdks

I'll be working on Addams Family Steddie next but idk when that part might be coming out lol

anyway, as always, if you see any typos no you didn't ;)

---

Steve has taken over Eddie's large porcelain bathtub after it was moved to the main room of the captain's cabin. Steve is lounging in it now, a week into being on Eddie's ship, with his tail draped over the edge so he can submerge his head and breathe through his gills. It's infinitely more comfortable, even with the seaweed still wrapped along the length of his tail and reminding him of its presence with every twitch.

He sighs, bubbles rising from his gills in the "I'm beyond bored" pattern that Robin would light up at seeing. But she's not here, so Steve is left to once again turn Eddie's bat ring over in his hands, fingers brushing along the wings.

Eddie had shown him a drawing of an actual bat, and Steve still thinks they're freaks of nature. But he finds the ring itself a little endearing if only because it was Eddie's ring willingly given.

He smiles softly, the gesture only dampened by the sharp jab of worry over his guppies and Robin. They're probably losing their scales with worry themselves, scouring the sea and putting themselves at risk of being seen in their hunt for him. Steve can't even fault them, either; he would do the exact same thing if Robin or any of his guppies had been captured like that. He has done the exact same thing.

Steve sighs again, this time the bubble pattern expressing exhaustion and "What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" He kind of misses having someone who actually understands what his bubble patterns mean, but he knows it wouldn't be fair to get frustrated with anyone for their inability to gain meaning from bubbles floating toward the surface.

He thinks, maybe, the worst part is being confined to the tub. Sure, it's infinitely better than the fucking bucket from the other ship, but Steve is still getting restless. He's like a guppy that's watching its siblings swim but still doesn't have the tail strength to swim itself. He feels trapped and has way too much energy with nowhere to spend it.

Steve hasn't mentioned this to Eddie, though. He'd been planning to, of course. In fact, he intended to tell Eddie that morning, but then they'd docked at some port city and Eddie had run off with the promise of being back soon. Steve had tried not to feel a little abandoned, left by himself with fucking nothing to do while Eddie prances around on land.

Before he can get too far into this line of thought (he's about three minutes from convincing himself that, really, Eddie shouldn't have left and could probably be taught the basics of bubble patterns as punishment), Eddie practically barrels into the room, vibrating with something Steve only recognizes as excitement when he sees Eddie's grin.

Steve surfaces, pushing his hair out of his eyes and leaning on the edge of the tub, twitching his tail slightly and exercising incredible control to keep from preening when Eddie's gaze lingers on it. "What happened?" he asks, slipping the bat ring onto his thumb, the only finger it fits.

Eddie drops to his knees, scooting closer to the tub until their noses are almost brushing. "I've got a surprise for you, sweetheart," he says, voice light and eager.

"Where is it?" Steve asks, returning Eddie's smile.

"It's on the deck! Do you trust me?"

For a brief moment, Steve thinks Eddie is about to throw him back into the ocean. Which, like, wouldn't be a bad thing, but Steve would be incredibly offended by the suddenness and wonder if he'd been imagining the draw between them.

But he's sure Eddie wouldn't do something like that without asking first, so he tucks it away as something only slightly possible. Steve nods and pulls back, bracing his hands on the edge of the tub before pushing himself up. He perches on the edge, his balance a little unsteady as he looks at Eddie.

Thankfully, Eddie catches on quickly. He scrambles to his feet and scoops Steve off the edge of the tub, one arm under his tail and the other wrapped around Steve's back. Steve holds onto Eddie's neck, still a little paranoid about being dropped despite Eddie's prior insistence that he wouldn't let anything happen to Steve.

"I think you're gonna love it," Eddie says, his voice soft and his breath warm against Steve's cheek.

Steve gets the urge to ask again, but he holds back as Eddie carries him up to the deck. The sky is covered in clouds, keeping the sun from blinding him when they emerge from the stairs. The deck is concerningly large for such a small crew, and Gareth is currently lounging against the mast, a hat pulled low over his eyes as he sleeps.

He's not very attention-grabbing, though. Not when there's a large...contraption in the middle of the deck. It has four wheels and is shaped like a boat, big enough for Steve to sit comfortably without his tail draping over the edge. There are cranks of some kind on the inside of the boat, and Steve realizes it's filled with water as Eddie carries him closer.

"What is this?" Steve asks, trying not to grimace at the discomfort of his scales beginning to dry out. They're starting to feel tight and itchy, a sensation he really hates, like they're going to split apart at any second.

Eddie grins wider and carefully sets Steve into the water, making sure he doesn't bump the tail or the seaweed wraps. He points at the crank to Steve's left and says, "That will make the back wheels turn. If you crank forward, you'll go forward, and back will make you go backward." He then points to the other crank by Steve's right. "This one controls the front wheels. Forward will make them turn left, and backward will make them turn right. You should be able to move around the deck with this."

Steve stares at the cranks for a moment before glancing up at Eddie. When he receives an encouraging nod in response, he slowly turns the left crank forward, lighting up when the boat does, in fact, move forward a few inches.

He's so overwhelmed with joy that he can't help the notes bubbling in his throat, rising and rising until he can't hold them back anymore. Steve doesn't even think before singing, a wordless tune that conveys just how truly happy he is, one that would leave Robin flabbergasted because she's never heard this tune before.

Because this tune is for courting gifts. Like, really fucking fantastic courting gifts. The kind of gifts that blow everything else clear out of the water and leave a merperson dazed and bubbly and floating without any direction from sheer happiness, bubbles bursting through their gills in joyous patterns.

Steve has never sung this tune before, but he's not at all surprised that Eddie is the person who managed to coax it out of him.

-----

Eddie knew the boat would be a good idea, but now he's thinking it was the best idea he's ever had and ever will. Even after hours have passed, after Steve has watched the sun drop below the water and asked Eddie to carry him back to the cabin, complaining about his arms being sore from turning cranks, Eddie is still reeling.

He's never heard a more beautiful sound. Eddie keeps replaying the tune Steve sang in his head, frustrated with his inability to recreate it just right and too flustered to ask Steve to sing it again. Because he gets the feeling it was special, something that Steve can't just do at the drop of a hat, but something he did because of Eddie.

Eddie twists his fingers in the sheet covering him, turning his head to glance at the tub where Steve is leaning against the edge. His eyes are closed, but Eddie knows he isn't sleeping yet. Steve submerges his head when he sleeps.

"Hey, Stevie," Eddie whispers, almost like he doesn't want Steve to hear so the comfortable silence continues.

Steve hears him anyway, of course, the flare of fin along the edge of his ear twitching slightly. He tilts his head a bit more, squishing his cheek against his arm, and somewhat lazily says, "Yeah, Eddie?"

Eddie turns onto his side, meeting Steve's gaze. "How'd you become a caretaker?" he asks. It's not the question he actually wants to ask; he wants to ask Steve to sing again, to let him drift to sleep to beautiful notes and lingering melodies.

He watches as Steve tenses slightly before forcing himself to relax. He takes a deep breath, his gills fluttering slightly before slowly exhaling. "A while ago, my pod had an...altercation with a pod from the southern seas. They kidnapped one of the guppies, Will, and the other guppies decided to rescue him. They snuck off one night and I followed them when I discovered what happened and..."

Steve trails off, frowning as he tilts his head to look at the small window, staring at the moon through the glass. "Well, long story short, there were lots of fights, our pod lost its previous caretaker, and we gained a new guppy the southern pod had captured. After everything, I couldn't let the guppies out of my sight, and they kept coming to me and Robin whenever they had problems. So, eventually, I just convinced Robin to be my partner and raise the guppies."

There's a lot going unsaid in that explanation, but Eddie knows better than to pry right now. Steve will tell him when he wants, and if he never wants to, that's fine, too. Eddie won't fault him for that. "Did you have a job before that?" he asks.

Steve hums softly, still beautiful and soft, but not at all the melody Eddie really wants to hear. "I used to scout for the pod," he says, "I would swim ahead and make sure an area was safe or find spots to rest when the pod traveled. When we stopped for long periods, I'd help gather food for the pod."

"You like caring for the guppies more," Eddie says, and it's not at all a question.

"Yeah," Steve replies, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "The guppies are great."

"Tell me about them."

"Well, first is Dustin. He's a little sea urchin, always talking back and getting into trouble, but he's sweet. Will is usually pretty quiet, but he's got a great imagination. Mike always hangs around Will, and he's kind of a squid, but he's going through an awkward growth phase. Lucas is the most active of them, and he likes to shadow the scouters when he can. Erica is his little sister, and she doesn't let the others get away with anything. Max is daring and brash, she tends to dive head-first into stuff, but she's also really protective. El is quiet like Will, but she's really smart and really caring. They're such a handful. Robin and I never have a dull day."

His voice is trailing off toward the end, and Eddie knows he's just moments from falling asleep. "I'd like to meet them someday," Eddie says, his voice softer than before, the words spoken more to himself than Steve.

Of course, that doesn't stop Steve from hearing him anyway. He hums again, this one quieter, and groggily mumbles, "Of course you will, Eddie. That's part of the courting."

And then, like he hasn't essentially rocked Eddie's entire world, Steve slips down in the tub. He submerges his head in the water, and Eddie can hear the quiet murmur of bubbles rising to the surface and popping as Steve breathes.

Eddie stays frozen for a few minutes, staring at the tub, and suddenly wondering if, maybe, somebody somewhere happened to write a merperson courtship manual.

Tag List (there's still room, so let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7

@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense

[stonegoldsxcrxt]

Ah, Star Wars fans. Once again perpetuating the Draco in Leather Pants trope to the point where we're all sick of it. Do I have to beat someone with the 'He's-Supposed-To-Be-Evil' Stick or something?

yeah. the acolyte itself as a show is straddling a line right now that, I'm sorry, I kind of don't think the Star Wars fandom at large is media literate enough to understand.

I've already seen a number of tiktoks and tumblr posts saying, "omg now I understand reylos," which besides being exhausting and annoying, immediately proves my point. There's obviously some differences between reylo and whatever osha/qimir is called within both production and the narrative, but overall what I'm baffled by every. single. time. is how weirdly everyone in the star wars fandom reacts to an attractive male villain blatantly manipulating a young woman.

I think the acolyte is clearly aiming for us to see and understand that Qimir is manipulating Osha. We know Qimir is clever. We saw him successfully worm his way out of being caught by the Jedi by playing up the "quirky sidekick" shtick. What I don't think a lot of the audience picks up on is just how smart he is. During one of his and Osha's conversations, he lets her suggest things and make assumptions, ie:

Osha: Where’d you get that scar?

Qimir: How do you think I got it?

Osha: Looks like someone stabbed you in the back.

Qimir: Someone who threw me away.

Osha: Your Jedi Master?

And then he doesn't correct her or elaborate. He lets her assume the worst. He lets her imagination wander. He's not interested in explaining because he knows the real story, whatever it may be, doesn't make him look as favorable as her idea. It's exchanges like that that are subtle examples of his manipulation, less obvious than the outright goading he uses against her when he gets her to admit she thinks of herself as a failure and that's why she left the Jedi.

There's also the earlier exchange:

Osha: He’s found me before, and his strength in the Force is very powerful.

Qimir: You think that’s his strength? That’s your strength in the Force, Osha. Someone ought to teach you that.

To a lot of people, that sounds like a compliment. But it isn't. Qimir makes a statement vague enough that successfully implies the Jedi have been lying to Osha about her own strength in the Force while also keeping just enough information to himself that he knows Osha will stick around to find out what he meant, instead of swimming to the ship he points out to her right after. And she does exactly that, continues to follow and engage in argument and conversation with him.

In fact, Qimir knows the more Osha talks to him, the more Osha even entertains the idea of talking to him instead of leaving, the more he can get inside her head. His naked swimming jaunt isn't him flaunting or showing off for Osha in some genuinely romantic way– it's yet another manipulation tactic. Though, if she is seduced, that helps him too.

Qimir purposefully makes himself into a vulnerable state in front of her to lull her into a false sense of security. He leaves his weapon with his clothes so she has the opportunity to take it; he is signalling to her that he is "completely" disarmed, though that is not true, since we know he is far stronger in the Force and in combat, and, perhaps, more cunning than Osha. His nudity forces Osha to acknowledge he is human, and Qimir benefits from Osha thinking of him as just a quirky, charming loner who's the victim of the Jedi, who offers her soup and disrobes in front of her.

The reason I know that none of this is genuine is simple. He goes back and forth between flat out acting as if he pities Osha ("Why do you love people who can only go so far?") but that doesn't get him the reaction he's looking for, so he bounces back to antagonizing her ("Why aren’t you a Jedi, Osha?) to finally, convincing her that she is similar to him ("I understand.") None of these things are actually Qimir trying to get to know Osha. Sure, he needs to understand her to manipulate her, but he'd do or say anything to get her to stick around and allow him to corrupt her further.

to me, Qimir is kind of the Star Wars equivalent to like a mimic species in the animal world. He's smart enough to know that in order to get what he wants, he has to act a certain way that isn't necessarily his real personality, and he can exploit Osha's (and anyone else's, for that matter) feelings by molding his personality and actions to achieve his goals so his victims are less likely to notice that he's using them.

The problem is that a big portion of the audience doesn't appear to recognize it, either. We know the rules of the Star Wars universe very well by now. Force Users this deep in the Dark Side cannot actually love someone. Sure, they can be obsessed with someone, but they cannot actually reciprocate feelings as the Dark Side corrupts them.

I've come to the conclusion that the majority of people watching Star Wars are not watching with the intention of picking up on any of this, despite the fact that the acolyte is actually doing it quite masterfully. They are paying attention to Manny Jacinto's muscles, and little else. You cannot argue or convince people who do not want to listen. They did not want to listen in 2017, when the reddest of red flags "You're nothing, but not to me," line was delivered, which had all the subtlety of being hit over the head with an anvil, and they are not listening now. If people are able to be gaslit by Kylo Ren into believing his victim card was validated, they will certainly and inevitably be gaslit by Qimir, who, so far, is much more cunning.

the acolyte even *plans* for this though, deliberately and suddenly cutting to the scene of Jecki's lifeless body, reminding the audience that Qimir is not the quirky, charming, harmless loner who he presents himself to be, but actually a man who we know to be capable of unspeakable acts of violence towards even children. at this point, I can't actually see any reason why the fandom continues to act like he is in love with Osha in any kind of genuine manner when it's so mind-blowingly obvious that he is male manipulator #1.

I think does a huge disservice to the story the acolyte seems to be trying to present at this point to be so blind with lust or whatever it is the fandom feels towards this guy that his own tactics have begun to work on them. it's actually so incredible that it makes me a bit ill. they may find him hot all they want, but for the love of Leia Organa's Star Wars at least recognize his tactics for what they are instead of also allowing yourself to be fooled!!

[mildlyromanticperv]

Why would I...?

Eunha x MReader. Fluff. Fighting insecurities.

-Babe, dinner's ready! -You called your girlfriend down to the living room after a couple of hours in the kitchen, today's Friday night and you two planned an evening together to make up for the lost time during the week, her job as professional makeup artist is a 24/7 on-call job and you come exhausted every day due to the physical demand of your construction work.

-Coming! -Her sweet voice echoes through the walls of your shared apartment just like music into your ears. Due to the the small amount of time you've been able to spend together the last couple of weeks, she comes out dressed ready for an outdoors date and her perfume... Oh my god her perfume... Such indescribable scent fires up every nerve of your nostrils filling your heart with a warm fuzzy feeling you can only describe as... Love.

-Sweetie, you didn't have to! I'm disgusting and you dressed up so adorable... -You know you're supposed to be a manly man, hairy chest and all... But being alone with your girlfriend takes out that sensitive side of yours only she can experience.

-Don't say that! I mean I certainly wasn't expecting you to be all dressed up in tuxedo or anything, but you look really handsome tonight. -She smirked at you as she took a seat at the dining table. -Plus, the mere fact that you and I can finally spend some time together makes up for anything. I've missed you so much.

At these words you expres a huge "Awwww" within your brain that you can't quite express due to your sheer focus in plating your dinner, as if you were to cook for the president itself. -I've missed you so much as well, baby, actually today I was told I might speak too much about you... Hehe.

-What do you mean!? -She answers embarassed and blushing, her voice raises due to the thought of you flaunting her among coworkers.

-Yes baby, I can't help but presume my girlfriend. -You shrugged and finally came out of the kitchen ready with the food and a couple of tall glasses, not long after you came out with a fresh bottle of white wine to go with the dinner.

-This all look so awesome! I didn't know you were such a good chef... -She says with a sultry voice flirting so blatantly the whole thing felt like two youngsters discovering their new love. -You spoil me too much, I guess tonight I'm going to have to be extra kinky...

-Eunha, behave yourself. -You say jokingly in a very poorly acted stern voice. -I'm not that kinky... -You blushed embarassed for her teasing.

During the rest of the evening you two engulfed the food with awe and excitement, since there was no words exchanged, the looks between you two flew in a mute ode of romance, teasing and... dirty talk.

After such buffet served on your dinner night the only thing left was to rest the food with a movie in your living room, between you two there was always a banter to choose this movie so both could be pleased... although deep down you always knew that she's the one to win since her puppy eyes are almost impossible to say no to.

-Baaaaaaaaabeeeeee, let's watch scary movies! Pleaseeeeee? -She attacks first with pouting.

-But sweetie, you fall asleep always in the middle of the movie, lets watch something with action... adventure, you haven't seen Lord of the Rings, have you? -You block her first punch and answer with a broad swing.

-No, that's only half-naked dudes slashing and punching, no fun... -She holds her chin thinking. -Why don't we watch a Disney movie? Perhaps Aladdin? -She ducks your punch and then respond with a well placed uppercut right on your chin.

-You know I'm a sucker for musicals... -You say to her with a suspicious voice, enjoying the blatant manipulation she just engaged in. -I still don't know... What about Godzilla? You said you wanted to watch it... -You endure that uppercut and throw an open hand punch straight to her cheekbone.

-Mmmm, maybe... But I'm not in the mood for giant monsters destroying cities, plus I don't like the CGI. -She gets ready for her final blow, she knows the power she holds over you and she doesn't hold herself back. -I wanna watch Inside Out babe. -Finally she uses her signatur pout and holds your arm, pressing herself against you and looks from below into your eyes with her stray puppy eyes.

-Fiiiiineeeee. -You answer reluctantly because you know better than upset your cute girlfriend.

As if an oracle predicted it Eunha falls asleep barely at 15 minutes of the movie, your heart flutters at the feeling of her cheek pressing against your shoulder and her steady peaceful breath.

-I love you so much. -You say to her barely above a whisper not really looking to wake her up, slowly and with stealth you turn off the TV and let her lay down on the couch, placing her head on your lap where you start caressing and combing her hair, she stirs around facing your abdomen and curling into a ball right next to you, luckily she brought a blanket for her feet so you cover her to make her comfortable.

Times such as these, so flawless, so quiet, they feel like frozen in time... Her porcelain skin shines under the faint light of the TV and her pink hair spread along your knees and your lap is the perfect combination for you to have to control your every cell not to wake her up and propose right there and then.

Her chest goes up and down slowly following the quiet sound of her breathing, after just a few minutes in which you're completely sure she's fallen completely asleep you let her head rest on a nearby cushion to go and prepare our bed for a much needed long night of sleep. You lift your girlfriend grabbing her gently by her legs and her shoulders, out of love for your girlfriend you just let her in the bed with her current outfit just taking out her shoes and socks.

Finally you start tidying up and cleaning the kitchen and the living room, you turn off all the lights and proceed to lay down on the bed, holding Eunha from behind as the big spoon.

The very next day you wake up next to a pillow with the scent of your girlfriend, but no sight of her.

-Eunha? -You ask still in the recently awoken state and rubbing your eyes. You quiclñy grab your slippers and stand up looking for her just to find her in the kitchen with a very soothing smell of hot coffee.

-Sweetie? Did you sleep well? -She says as she sees you coming out of the room in a groggy state, her outfit changed from her white blouse and furry blazer to a pink pajama with a cotton coat for the cold, a pair of oversized pajama pants and fuzzy slippers. -I didn't want to wake you up, I know you need a good rest.

-It's fine babe... -Yawn. -Did you sleep comfortable? I didn't wanted to wake you just to change into a pajamas last night. -You chuckle remembering her peaceful expression.

-Yes sweetie, I imagined I might fall asleep so I wore comfy clothes.

-You always think of everything even when you're exhausted, that's so cool!

-It's called paying attention to the details, dum dum... -She chukles as well.

-There's only one thing I like paying attention to and she's making coffee... -You walk around the kitchen counter to hug Eunha. -Thank you babe.

-You can thank me by washing the dishes, dum dum. -She says enjoying the closeness of your embrace around her waist, she enjoys this so much she lets out a quiet hum of satisfaction when you start rubbing her arms.

-Okay mom I'll do it soon. -You roll your eyes playfully, but righ away she smacks your cheeks.

-Idiot. -She says with a big smile.

You then start to wash the dishes and notice something you have been noticing for a few days but never really payed total attention to, Eunha's dish was in the fridge with leftovers from last night, she didn't eat the whole thing.

Usually this wouldn't be weird since she stays fit for her own decision, but this time you ensured to give her a reduced portion, so... Why would she left food on the plate?

You spend the rest of your dish washing deep in that thought, not quite being able to explain yourself why that change in her eating habits.

Could it be for health issues? Nah her childhood illness is gone and she told you doctors assured there's no way she'd have it again.

Is she being bullied? Perhaps her coworkers are just jealous she's so fit, but still... She's very confident on herself, it doesn't add up.

What could it be? Is she hiding something?

Your mind runs wild with the possibilities until she gently pokes your shoulder.

-Sweetie? Is everything okay? -She rests her hand on your shoulder, clearly worried.

-Yeah baby I'm okay, I was just lost in thought, that's all. -Surely you didn't lie to her... but you didn't tell her the whole truth as well.

-Is it because of the new construction site rules?

-Sort of yeah, I have the feeling they're withholding information.

-Well babe don't you worry for now for that, it's Saturday, we have to rest.

-You're right babe. What would I do without you? -You clenched your nose playfully to ask her for a kiss.

-You'd be lost, probably even still at the grocery store not knowing what to buy for last night's dinner. -She chuckles and she tips on her toes to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

-I love you, my sweet bunny.

-I love you two, my handsome puppy.

I think perhaps I should've warned about these sweet times, for diabetic people this might not be good for you.

-What are we going to have for breakfast? -She asks once the coffee is poured and you two meet at the table to discuss your day.

-I was thinking of some grilled cheese sandwiches and smoothies.

-Oh, really? -She looks to one side thinking of it but either way accepts the offer. -Sure babe, but we don't have anything for grilled cheese.

-I know, I'm going to order takeout, I want to spend my morning cuddling with you. -You pout as she do with puppy eyes hoping she'd say yes.

-Okay okay babe... -She chuckles. -Come here. -She takes your wrist and walks to the couch where she sits in between your legs and wrapping herself around with your arms. -Babe I.. I want to ask you something, it's... kind of important.

Your heart beats rapidly, anxious and unsure on what to do, what is she wanting to speak about?

-You know you can trust me, honey, of course, talk to me. -You nuzzle your face in the crook of her neck and hold her tight.

-You... you think... -Her voice fades, speaking in such a low voice it's only a faint whisper in the air. -You think I've put on weight? I... I feel like my thighs and belly are getting bigger...

-Wait, honey, is that why you've been eating less? -You ask clearly concerned.

-I thought you wouldn't notice... -She says with a small crack on her voice.

-Babe... -You chuckle slightly obviously not trying to offend her. -I'm worried you might get sick if you don't eat well, for the rest, I don't care... -You start to caress her arms and belly trying to reassure her. -If you feel that you need to do so, I'll support you exercising or eating more veggies, but trust me. -You whisper closer to her ear with a loving voice. -You're perfect just the way you are. Bigger thighs? You know me, that's my favourite feature from you along with your smile and your aroma... Bigger belly? You're just more huggable.

Your words get to her heart, speeding it up so much she feels her own heartbeat on her ears, she goes red and flustered with your words up to the point a small tear of joy falls down her cheek.

-You... you mean it? -Her voice cracking almost going to cry.

-Babe, I really don't care, you can turn brunette instead of your pink hair, or perhaps go bobcut... Hell, you could go bald, gain weight, stop doing your makeup and I'll still love you with all my heart. -You let go of her belly and spin her around gently so she can face you, then you place your right hand on her cheek very gently, caressing slowly. -You're the love of my life, and there's absolutely nothing that could make me love you less.

She leans into your touch, feeling peaceful and reassured with your words, but the faint thought of her insecurities still linger in her brain.

-But... wouldn't you like me to be thinner? -She pouts avoiding your gaze.

-Why would I? Would you stop being Jung Eunbi if you changed or if you gained a pound or two?

-Well... no, but... -You gently lift up her chin to make her meet your eyes.

-No, right? I fell in love with Jung Eunbi, not the body of Jung Eunbi, as long as my baby is still there, I really don't care how you look. -Right after this you clean up the tear that threatens to fall down her cheek.

-You're just too kind to me, you're just saying those words... -She pouts.

Unable to think of anything else to say than the truth that reigns in your heart you just do the first thing that comes to your mind.

You quickly lean forward and press your lips softly against hers, you close your eyes and hum in content, your left hand wanders to her waist and presses her lower back, pushing her body against yours.

-Would you stop loving me if tomorrow I go bald? -You ask after separating your lips from hers.

Her cheeks are blushing wildly and she looks for her breath softly. -No... I wouldn't, but please don't do it, I love your curly hair. -She chuckles feeling reassured by your words and your actions.

-I won't babe, but you get my point, right?

-I... I do, thank you so much sweetie, I love you so much. -She hugs you and nuzzles against your chest, crying slightly out of pure joy and thankfulness by the thought of you loving her that much.

-I love you so much as well, my sweet Eunha.

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Fire fire (hwanghyunjin)

"I've always liked to play with fire fire". Fire. If it wasn't for the fact that watching Hyunjin dance gave you the ultimate chills, fire would have been a very fitting word to evoke the burning sensation at the pit of your stomach.

Which you weren't sure was due to just the insane amount of passion and talent he was clearly displaying while running through the dance routine he self choreographed... Or the fact that Yeji was dancing with him. And you. Couldn't. Help. The. Jealousy. What a horrible horrible feeling jealousy is.

You hated it with a burning passion, the same passion you could clearly see in their dancing skills. They weren't even performing yet, just rehearsing at the dance studio, and yet their energy was impeccable, the control over their bodies astounding, they exuded talent. The routine was so intense and electric evrytime they locked eyes you felt just how complicit and in synch they were.

You almost felt like an intruder at some point, like you weren't supposed to be watching something so captivating, borderline intimate. You were so immensely proud of your boyfriend and in true, genuine awe of Yeji's skills, but you just couldn't shake the creeping vile thing tugging at your insides.

"Woah! That was awesome!", Hyunjin shouts, panting and sweating abundantly as he lurches forward to grab his water bottle and theatrically falls to the ground from the exhaustion, his arms and legs spreading apart so he's laying on the floor like a starfish. The song they had been playing on loop throughout rehearsals stops and you  swallow down the uneasiness in your throat: you clap enthusiastically as Yeji bows and giggles bashfully, her bright ginger hair falling messily out of her high ponytail.

She looks lovely, you think. She is beautiful and fit and knows how to move her body so well. "You did a great job, guys. Well done very well done", you say earnestly, as they both thank you and exchange a quick, friendly goodbye hug, "I sincerely apologise but I really got to blast, I have a schedule in less than 20 minutes. Thank you so much for today", Yeji frets adorably, she bows deeply again and then gathers her stuff as she waves you and Hyunjin goodbye, a foot already out the door.

Hyunjin grabs a clean trowel from a wicker basket in the corner and alternates dabbing down his face and his neck to big swigs of water as he slowly recollects and calms down. He sprawls out on the floor next to you, his chest rising and falling quickly as his hand crawls on your lap for you to take it. You smile weakly at him and slightly play with his fingers, now that you're alone with him and the studio is silent, the sound of your own thoughts begins to grow louder, you really have to concentrate to try not to let them prevail over your mouth.

"Is everything okay?". You avert your eyes from your lap where you've been keeping Hyunjin's hand, even though you had long stopped touching him, so caught up in your head you absent mindedly just left him hanging there, your fingers suspended mid air above his own. You nod slightly, not daring to meet his eyes even though you can feel him looking at you, from the corner of your eyes you see him sucking in his cheeks and pouting as he fixes his eyes on your face in either concentration or brooding.

Hyunjin's not one to push you. He will observe you from afar and wait for you to make the first move if you wish to, but he's not going to initiate anything, this much you know. And there were certain times where you appreciated this observing, conscious side of him. You liked how he knew how to read the signs and gave you ample space and time to simmer down in order to eventually approach him. This being one of the times you're glad he isn't pushing you, though his whole demeanor speaks for itself as he's clearly not happy at how you seem to have shut down completely.

To be fair you two hadn't been very talkative the whole morning even while driving to the studio, you knew he had been working so hard to come up with the choreography for Play With Fire, endless were the days where he left at 6 in the morning and came back home at 1am. You also knew he had been practicing with Yeji for the last few weeks. The slimy seed of jealousy had been growing and growing inside of you for days on end now.

"Okay... I'm gonna go over the routine a couple more times and then we can go. You don't have to sit through this again if you don't want to", Hyunjin says lowly, already walking towards the Bluetooth speaker so he can restart the song. Something about his tone sounds a little condescending but a little meek too, and it makes you tick.

You know he's stressed out and overworked and you know you're not acting your best right now but you can't help but feel a mixture of annoyance and hurt. He had asked you to come see him at practice, you didn't just invite yourself over. You had been hesitant too, at first, mostly cause you thought the dance floor was his sacred place and you weren't supposed to invade his space.

When you eventually found out he was going to practice the whole routine with Yeji you had even insisted you weren't so sure it was right for you to be here, possibly meddling with the chemistry and coordination the performance required of them. "I want to be here, Hyunjin. I wouldn't have come in the first place otherwise", you say softly, but he doesn't hear you.

The music booms through the speakers again and he goes back into full performer mode. Somehow managing to dance just as consistently as earlier, if not with even more decisiveness and impactfulness in his movements. All the while remaining gracious, moving fluidly.

Here's something you always admired about him: he moved like water. The definition of fluidity and grace, an undertone of something very dramatic and intentional in the way he contorted his body, in the way the look on his face always matched the vibe and intensity of the song he was dancing to. His body was the show itself, in a way. And you were hypnotized.

This time he ends the routine by dropping on his knees right in front of you, the last act of his performance where he's supposed to snap to his side and point his arms and fingers to Yeji now happening before you, mere inches away from you, his eyes intense and dark as his breathing is labored and his whole body is tense.

You, on the other hand, are awestruck, your eyes wide and dumbfounded at the unexpected ending: "you are really fucking hot for doing that you know?". Your mouth moves before you can even form any other coherent thought and you slap your hand over your mouth while Hyunjin quite literally falls to the floor in high pitched giggles, hands clapping, knees shaking and all.

The tension finally breaks between you two and you laugh just as loudly, shaking you head in disbelief at the words that just came out of your mouth just like that. You fall on your back and hold your stomach from the cramps while Hyunjin crawls over to you and pecks your lips, "thank you, I really needed that", he exclaims, still giggling a little, he pushes back his newly cut red hair, his hand running through the shortened ends out of habit, he presses his forearm to his forehead, trying to dry some of his sweat.

He looks so hot, you weren't lying. You close your eyes and breath out the last of your laughter, your hand reaching for his, this time playing with his fingers with more intention to it, "I'm sorry for being so sulky, I promise I loved seeing you practice", you confess, "you sat through the same routine for over 4 hours, even if you didn't love it anymore, I would have understood that", he replies, his breathing still uneven and fast, "was there any reason for your being sulky? I thought you were mad at me", he adds after taking a swig if his water.

You open your eyes now, forced with the reality of having to fully confess. You pull yourself up a little and bury your face in your hands, "I feel terrible. I was never mad at you I'm just.....", you sigh and drag your hands down your cheeks in an exasperated manner, "I guess seeing you and Yeji dance like that made me feel... Jealous".

The cat's out of the bag and if for a brief second you felt even the tiniest but if relief in telling him, it's immediately followed by the most unnerving frustration at your own self, shame filling you right up.Hyunjin pries your hands away from your face and looks at you with fond eyes. Which is unexpected to say the least.

"Jagi...", he murmurs softly, cupping your cheek in his palm, "you're jealous of Yeji? For real?", he asks patiently, "It's so stupid I know, you guys are both so talented and so professional and you barely even touch while dancing and Yeji is so so lovely and sweet and I feel like a complete idiot". You didn't even mean to cry but fresh teardrops spill out of your eyes regardless. You feel horrible. On the other hand Hyunjin seems touched, sad for you even.

He gently kisses your tear stained cheeks as he tucks your hair behind your ears so they don't stick to your face, "it's not stupid and you're not an idiot. You just care, a lot. I'm sorry you felt like that, me and Yeji go back years and years. We were trainees together, me and Chan hyung used to hang out with her and Ryujin back in the day. As friends, just as friends. She's like a little sister to me".

You nod slightly, reaching for his hands so you can press soft kisses to his wrists and knuckles, "I'm sorry, please forgive me, I trust you, I really do. I just got too invested with how sexy the performance is", you mumble in between sobs, Hyunjin grins at you and coos, "it's okay y/n, it's okay", he slowly guides you down onto the floor, he hovers above your body and ever so gently distributes his weight on top of you.

He kisses your jaw and your neck, cushiony lips pressing on your throat, his damp hair tickles your chin and your faint sobbing mixes with the soft hiccups of your stifled laughs, "see... that's better, jagi, so much better", he murmurs.His heartbeat quickens against your ribcage, kisses become sloppier and hungrier, hands roam underneath your shirt.

Your limbs become tangled in a matter of few minutes, your pants are off, his breath is hot on you, your fingers knotting his hair. Fire. Chills. Fire again. You're burning up with lust now. Whatever trace of sadness and jealousy leaving your soul with every item of clothing that gets removed from your body.

"Hyunj-Hyune... uh" , you hiss as his teeth sink into an especially tender spot on the side of your neck, "what if-uh what if someone walks in?", you manage to ask, pulling at the last fragment of sanity left in you when Hyunjin rolls his hips into you, "door's locked", he replies hastily as he pulls down both his pants and his boxers at once to then reprise his kisses on your very swollen very red mouth, "the place is rented for another hour and half".

It has most definitely been over an hour and half but nobody has come knocking at the door. You and Hyunjin are still laying on the floor, still tagled, still breathless. The heavenly weight of his body and the feeling of him still inside of you are enough to keep you high and exhilarated long after your climax.

You kiss his cheek repeatedly as he pants, hiding in the crook of your neck. "Thank you", you mumble underneath your breath and Hyunjin lifts his head up just a bit, looking at you confusedly in his hazy, messy, wonderful state, "what are you thanking me for? For making love to you?", you giggle and peck his lips, "everything. Just everything. You certainly know how to love me good, really good".  Hyunjin smiles contentedly and readjusts himself right back into you, "no need to thank me. Especially when I'm inside you. There's nothing I won't do for you".

[autumngracy]

It's always been getting steadily worse, but the amount of political bots I've been seeing everywhere this year—youtube, tumblr, twitter, news sites—is truly terrifying. Within a few hours of posting, even a 2 minute long clip from a news network (even a tiny local channel!) has hundreds of comments that are almost nothing but bots and bots responding to bots.

Reporting them does nothing anymore and isn't worth it due to the sheer volume, and many websites won't let you block users, so you're stuck with seeing them 24/7.

One thing that's immediately apparent is that pretty much all of these political bots are posting right wing comments (or right wing comments disguised as left wing comments, meant to deter left wing voters from casting their votes).

The Justice Dept. recently released reports showing ongoing Russian interference attempts during this year's election cycle, which are mainly disinformation ops. But they were preaching to the choir, as anyone can see how many political bots are operating right now, and that they're mainly all trying to effect the same thing: a win for Donald Trump in 2024.

I don't have any comforting conclusion to this; I guess all I'm saying is ... you have to be aware of how much disinformation and propaganda is out there. You have to consider the intent behind the posts and comments. You have to check the sources of things and verify the information before taking it to heart (amd before spreading it, please).

But most importantly you have to not let them get to you. The whole point of these election interference campaigns is to mess with people's heads and make them feel they can't trust anything anymore, especially official journalistic institutions and the government itself.

They want their political opposition to drown in a quagmire of uncertainty, fear, and the feeling that no one is on your side and nobody knows or cares what the truth is anymore, so you may as well not bother standing up for your beliefs or trying to fact check anything or convince other people they're being deceived because you are and will be completely overwhelmed by unwavering, rabid opposition.

Do not fucking give in to this shit. Things are not as hopeless as they seem when you're doomscrolling youtube comments and twitter threads. Truth still matters. Love, community, and solidarity are still there to be found if you know how to look.

Do not let these villains steal your certainty, your hope, your conviction. Do not let them isolate you and silence your beliefs. Do not let them convince you voting is pointless.

And please, look after your mental health. They want you exhausted, afraid, and in despair.

Don't let the bastards grind you down.

[tonkatsubowl]

Hello! I been a big fan of ur writing and absolutely loved your yandere reader fanfics if possible can I request a yandere reader x argenti? Where the reader gets so jealous over EVERYONE who argenti compliment, the reader didn't like it at all! Especially his rumbles abt the aeon of beauty so the reader did what most normal people would! Lock him inside a maze like mansion !! Where he can long reply on you, of course argenti can fight back but everytime he tries to one of his dear friends go missing so he had to obey and stay put

Ik this sounds rlly long but bear with me

since the day you laid your eyes on argenti, you immediately fell in love. it was definitely love at first sight, and ever since, you pursued after him for his heart and for his hand.

then, you came up with a plan. you had it all planned out, like the manipulative person that you were. you were observant, cunning and strategic. but the one thing you could not stop was argenti's habits.

the man was kind and admirable in itself. he admired beauty, and defended his life for the sake of beauty itself. but you loathed how he went around, complimenting everyone (including plants and his beloved aeon), despite the fact there was actual no motive behind his words. you hated it. you hated it, hated it, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. you just wanted to kill everyone. you just wanted to kill argenti. no...there had to be a better method than this.

argenti didn't know that you loathed it. but soon, he would know and learn his lesson and your true colors. throughout time, you became insane. you became possessive, obsessive, and you stalked him after every breath he took and every step he took throughout the cosmos.

"you wished to speak to me, (y/n)?" argenti said, approaching you in his own glory, comical sparkles ensuing about his frame. "why, so late at night? i assumed you would be resting by now. you are a busy individual, after all. i trust that you can't sleep well?"

you shake your head, masking your anger and jealousy with a smile. argenti couldn't read you well, and you were glad you were skilled in donning fake masks for others. "i haven't been sleeping well...and i figured i'd speak to you in private. would you like some tea?"

argenti's gaze softens as he sits, taking the cup of tea that you offered to him, before bringing it up to his lips. jasmine flavored, and unbeknownst to him, you had spiked his drink. you left a dosage of a drug, watching with satisfaction as he drank his poison.

"thank you. you didn't have to prepare this at all. i've been craving for some tea, truth to be told. i'm glad you were able to do this."

"anything for you, really." you say, your smile widening a tad bit.

your words threw him off a bit. anything for him? the man blinked, puzzled by your words, before sheepishly laughing. he thought to himself that you were saying that out of mere friendship. "ah, i'm blessed to have such a reliable companion. you've a beautiful soul," he began, placing the now-empty cup of tea on the saucer, "but, pray tell. what is on your mind?"

that was when the drowsiness began to settle in. and you could see it, as the first yawn had clicked.

"...you, argenti. you've been on my mind." you state honestly, watching as the knight of beauty looked at you with confusion and exhaustion. his eyes laid upon the glass, realizing what was happening.

"...(y/n)...?" he murmured.

you stood up, approaching him, both of your hands cupped at each side of his face. he could see your true colors now, and how...dangerous you were. all this time, you were a wolf hiding in sheep's skin.

"i love you," you whispered, "i love you. i love you so much. i love you. i love everything about you. i want you- and you're mine. mine. mine. mine, you hear? but i can't stand you. i hate how you tell everyone that they're beautiful. that they're gorgeous, that the flowers bloom beneath their feet as they walk through the soils of the planets they come from."

argenti was exhausted, but he knew what was happening. you drugged him successfully, and he couldn't fight back. he was too tired. before he could say anything, he felt his body collapse, his head smushed into your chest as you cradled him. you sigh with admiration, peppering his face with kisses, breathing heavily with incitement.

"...oh, argenti. you've no idea how much i've done for you."

when argenti woke, he woke in a dreamscape...or was it an alternative dimension that you created?

his eyes fluttered open as he raises himself from the bed he was on, looking around. a well furnished room with elegancy painted everywhere. luxurious, and argenti could even say it was beautiful- but he was still affected by the drugs that you gave him. he furrowed his eyebrows, walking around, even reaching for his weapon- but it was gone. he was far too exhausted to even walk that much, or even think. by the aeons, what have you done?

that was when you appeared, your voice booming from the opposite side of the knight.

"oh, you're awake!"

argenti turns his head, looking at you with a surprised look.

"(y/n)...where am i? what are you doing? can you explain to me what's going on?" he asked.

"you're at home, silly." you say innocently, darkness emitting through your gaze as you innocently chuckled to yourself, "don't you know that? i don't need to explain anything to you, my love."

you approached him, gently grazing your fingers across his chin, then to his neck. "you're at home...where you can never leave me. we're in love, and i can't have you go anywhere anymore."

argenti looked at you with shock, unable how to respond. was this... some sort of test? what had happened to you? just moments ago, you and argenti were conversing like it was nothing. just days ago, the two of you were fighting amongst each other's sides. but what happened?

...was this really you?

"...(y/n). you're confusing me. please, let's have a seat, and talk this out."

"the aeons can't save you here. the stupid aeon of beauty you always spout nonsense about can't even save you- and if they tried to, i would kill them. and if you tried to leave me, i would kill your friends."

argenti felt his heart sink into his own chest for a moment. what could he do or possibly say in this situation? this, to argenti, wasn't a beautiful situation at all. just moments ago, you were yourself...right? this wasn't you, right? was this a sting bug creating a false illusion towards him right now?

that was when you inclined upon your toes, giving the knight of beauty a kiss, in which he did not reciprocate in the matter. you smiled innocently before sitting down, setting down a tray of a well-prepared breakfast.

"you've been asleep for awhile, so how about we eat some breakfast together?"

[nabaath-areng]

I don't know how to handle breaking down like this, I was free for a while from the bouts of complete and utter inability to move and react to my environment for between an hour to several hours at a time while my heart and pulse go absolutely haywire, I have barely any energy to keep up a conversation without feeling like I have to disconnect from my body entirely, I feel like all I do these days is despairing over the fact that I don't know what's wrong, that I'm not strong enough to fight for any sort of help and worrying that by the time someone cares enough to look it will be too late for me.

I know full well that I've had the means to recognize when something's wrong completely beaten out of me and it terrifies me to think that I won't be able to distinguish between daily shit vs actual danger. I don't recognize myself, I don't know how to feel normal, my physical breakdown is stealing everything I love from me and I'm starting to lose hope.

My throat hurts so fucking bad because the tears want to explode but they can't cause I've lost almost all ability to show both pain and negative emotion like crying. I'm trying to stay normal, to force myself to do the things I love, but I get so exhausted and I feel like a burden on everyone I know for being a mere shell of my former self. Even when I was broken down from psychosis people told me that I made them laugh. I used to be on the phone with my mom for up to 3 hours every time. Now I can't even read her messages without feeling horrible dread about being unable to mentally conjure up a response.

I'm starting to resent my home even though I love it because it's starting to turn into my prison. At least before I could leave the house and go out. Now I have to debate whether or not it's safe for me to shower half of the time. I fall from the stars more and more often nowadays. I keep passing out and injuring myself, both small dips and full out collapses. My hearing and vision both black out more often than before. My foot is deforming itself, and so is my knee it seems. My thumbs are broken beyond repair. Brain gets so foggy I can't do anything but stare into nothing.

I struggle with speech more and more, language is getting harder, and I struggle more and more in games including FFXIV because I lose all ability to move my hands and grasp what they should do or where they should be or move. I am struggling to keep my composure when upset more than usual or I get so apathetic that the thoughts I get scare me with how uncharacteristically negative they are. One day activity requires several days to recover from.

I keep trying to not talk about it cause I don't wanna burden anyone or make everything about myself to be this, but god it's turning out that way anyway and it's not like I'm even good at pretending that this isn't killing me on a fundamentally soul deep level.

I want to be okay so fucking bad and I want to be happy and I wanna draw and write and play games and talk to and hang out with friends and loved ones and take walks and grocery shop and cook and bake and so much more. I don't know how to not feel useless now that I'm losing the extremely few things I actually had potential with.

Maybe my worth as a person does not lie in my productivity but I guess I'm a bad disabled person then for finding it hard to be happy about losing everything I fought to stay alive for. I don't even know what I'm saying at this point I'm so tired and sad and

I don't know what to do about it and I don't know how to make things better even though I'm desperate to figure something out that doesn't require me to humiliate myself before healthcare providers that scold and berate me for being a stupid autistic hypochondriac tranny addicted to google and benefits. More and more it seems like the most likely outcome is a downwards spiral of this until there's nothing left and every part of me is beyond repair and salvation. A slow and painful demise outside my control. I don't know how to process the possibility that I might not get to live as long as I maybe should.

[benjaminthewolf]

Living Up To Your Name (Vore Story)

Welp, this was one of the most difficult vore story projects I've ever tackled.

Mainly because of the battle scenes. Yeah, needless to say, battle scenes are hard to write.

But this is the Sky/landers franchise we're talking about. Fighting is kinda, ya know, their whole thing, so-

Word count: 7,623

WARNING: INJURY, SWEARING

     Astroblast gradually shifted his head around on his pillow as he let a muted, scratchy half-murmur half-gnarly-grumble vibrate itself around in his voice box for a few seconds. Reluctantly rolling his crystal body over on his bed so he was now lying upon his front, heaving out a mildly despondent sigh as he did, the light elemental Supercharger soon after attempted to let his mind drift away from hazy consciousness (just as he had done all throughout the same night, so be it), and enter eventually into a state of tranquil, steady slumber, so he could finally get some good rest for next morni- 

     *FWOOMP*

   “ASTROBLAST!”

      Automatically and instantly lurching upwards as an instinctively hysteric “AAAAH!” burst out of the crystalline man’s throat, Astroblast urgently shot open his eyes, and swung his head around his room so he could decisively figure out what was going on. As soon as he did this, he immediately realized two things.

     Firstly, and most importantly, the one, or actually, the ones who had screeched out his name, and caused this sheer panic as a result, was the three of Fiesta’s amigos. Despite all being tiny skeletons, they were currently breathing in and out very rapidly, whilst leaning against the frame of the door they had just broken open in tremendous exhaustion. 

     Secondly, Astroblast was able to figure out from the height and angle he was looking at them from that he had apparently activated subconsciously his anti-gravity floating ability from the shock, and was now hovering approximately two feet over his bed, still positioned with his front towards the ground, as a result. Also due to this, his white and gold-trimmed pajama shirt with “I Come In Peace” printed in its center was now visible to the trio. His pajama shorts were similarly visible, and possessed the same color palette. 

     In the time it had taken him to comprehend this second fact, however, one of the amigos, coincidentally, the one in the middle, aptly known as “Dos” had finally managed to catch his breath enough to speak up to Astroblast once more.

“WEDON’TKNOWHOWATALLBUTCOUNTMONEYBONECAPTUREDFIESTAANDHEALSOTOOKTHECRYPTCRUSHERANDFIESTASUMMONEDUSAFTERDISTRACTINGCOUNTMONEYBONESOWECOULDGETTHECRYPTCRUSHEROUTOFTHERESOWECOULDGETHELPANDNOWTHEY’REUPPASTSKYHIGHLANDSANDYOURSUNRUNNERISTHEONLYONETHATCANGOUPTHERECAUSEITSALIGHTELEMENTAREAANDTHESUNRUNNER’SALIGHTELEMENTVEHICLEANDWENEEDTOGOUPTHERERIGHTNOWORELSE-”

     “WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT! SLOW DOWN!” Astroblast finally brought the incoherent ramble to a halt. “ALL I HEARD WAS ‘FIESTA’ AND ‘COUNT MONEYBONE’! WHAT HAPPENED, EXACTLY?”

     Realizing he was talking way too fast for Astroblast to keep up in the following moments, Dos promptly shut himself up, slapping his two skeletal hands over his mouth with an “E-” noise, before Uno, the amigo to his left, ultimately decided to speak up instead.

     “Uh…it's kind of a long story, so maybe it would be best if we told you while you’re getting out of your pajamas and into your space suit, and…grabbing your laser gun and all that.” he relayed to the Supercharger far more comprehensively.

      Taking a few moments to reorient himself after this proposal, and all of the utterly unhinged, non-stop madness that had come before it, Astroblast sighed out a far more calm and collected breath of “Okay…”, before giving a firm nod back to the amigos. Proceeding to float downwards towards the floor, maneuvering himself into an upright position as he did, Astroblast eventually stuck a landing in front of his closet, whilst allowing all of the initial shock of the moment to gradually flow out from his being. As he was reaching for the door handle, however, something suddenly perked up in his brain. 

     “Uhhh…do you think you guys can…” he awkwardly attempted to ask the little skeletons. “...turn around?”

     “What-OH! YEAH YEAH YEAH, OF COURSE!” Uno responded in sudden comprehension of what, exactly, the crystal man meant, before instantly swiveling around. Dos and Tres would resultantly follow shortly after, in a shared sense of mutual, implicit understanding.

     “So yeah, since we’re all magically linked with Fiesta, he kinda just filled us in on all the details mentally when he summoned us.” Tres began to explain. “So here’s basically what happened…”

****

     “OI!”

     “OI!”

     “OI!”

     “WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU BONEHEAD!

"...Heh. Literally..." 

"BUT GET YOUR BONY PELVIC ASS UP OFF THE FLOOR! I SAID OI!”

     “...”

     “ARE YOU IGNORING ME ON PURPOSE OR ARE YOU REALLY JUST THIS INEPT?”

“WAKE UP!”

     “.......................”

     “Alright, that’s it.”

     “¡DESPERTARSE, TÚ ESTÚPIDO CULERO HIJO DE LA FREGADA! ¡VETE A LA CHINGADA Y CHINGA TU MADRE! ¿TÚ OÍR, IDIOTA? ¡TU MAMA!”

     “*GYAAAAAAAAAAH-* ¡MI MADRE NO TIENE ABSOLUTAMENTE NADA QUE VER CON LO QUE ESTÁ PASANDO AQUÍ!-”

     “¡Buenos días, motherfucker!”

     “MONEYBONE!”

     “THAT’S COUNT MONEYBONE, TO YOU, FIESTA!”

     And that was when Fiesta boiled over. 

     The undead Supercharger skeleton needed nothing in the way of rational thought. He needed nothing in the way of sight or sound. And he most certainly needed nothing in the way of consciously harnessing his strength in order to respond to Count Moneybone with his fist.

     A great cracking noise could be heard resonating around the two rival skeletons’ current vicinity. Seconds after, with the moment of fury gone by, Fiesta could critically think once again. Thus, he was given no other choice but to examine all the details pertaining to both himself and his most hated enemy the second his eyesight cleared up; as well as to their surroundings, a little later. With all of this new information at hand, then, Fiesta was rendered both silent and imobile rather quickly, as he subsequently connected all the dots.

     “...well, I guess I can’t blame you for trying…” Count Moneybone spoke up with his signature tone of royal, arrogant calmness. “...but I think you’ll find that trying to…oh, what was the phrase again? Oh yeah! ‘Slug me in the face’! Is kind of a lot harder when you’re THE SIZE OF AN AVERAGE SEWER RAT! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Ahhhh~” 

     Fiesta only remained reticent and unmoving, as reality at last began to settle. 

     The indisputable fact of the matter, in isolation from everything else, was that Count Moneybone had somehow managed to capture him. That meant that right now, his goal was to learn as much as he could about the situation, in order to evaluate all of his options, and formulate a plan for escape. Moments after this had settled in his mind, Count Moneybone resumed his villainous chuckling. 

     “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH YOU ACTUALLY THOUGHT YOU HAD A CHANCE, DIDN’T YOU?! OH, HOW RICH IS THAT, NOW? HOW RICH IS THAT? ….WELL CERTAINLY NOT AS RICH AS ME! HAHAHA! …OR AS SMART! HEH!”

     That was when Fiesta realized that he knew exactly how to get Count Moneybone to reveal his hand.

     “...aaaaaanyway!” the former ruler of the underworld abruptly shifted the subject. “WELCOME TO BEYOND SKYHIGHLANDS, FIESTA! THE BRIGHT, CLOUDY, BASICALLY UNREACHABLE REGION WHERE SKYLANDS GIVES WAY TO THE VACUUM OF SPACE!” he hollered out in theatrical glamor, gesturing out and towards the landscape before them.

     As Fiesta had naturally expected, based on his skeletal rival’s description, he observed that Count Moneybone was standing upon a giant, glistening platform of clouds. Aside from the ones on the ground, the light blue, shimmering sky around them was also lightly decorated with the occasional pure white wisp.

     At this point, since Fiesta was still yet to speak another word, he appeared to be dumbstruck and muted from realization to Count Moneybone, as he took a few flamboyant strides forth. In reality, however, the shrunken skeleton was merely prepping his plan for probing, while continuing to note his surroundings.

     “Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little gimmick…” Count Moneybone cockily sneered before calling out a cheeky: “TA-DA!” and revealing to Fiesta the Crypt Crusher, simply by turning himself around; the vehicle parked about five meters from where he stood.

     “Oh, yes! Brought your stupid little funeral procession car all the way up here, too! HAH! I’m sure you know what that means, dont’ch’ya!”

     Fiesta spontaneously let out a stifled gasp, as the magical light blue eyes within his bony sockets widened to at least twice their size.

     “EHEHEHEHEHE, YES! I suppose you could say that I’M in the driver’s seat, now!” Count Moneyone immediately quipped in a sense of satisfactory superiority. “...except THIS driver’s seat contains a rift engine!”

     As Count Moneybone wasn’t currently looking at him, Fiesta couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the thoroughly self-absorbed former underworld ruler, who had all but seemed to have forgotten that engines aren’t located in the driver’s seat. Nonetheless, this news was still very good, as the presence of the Crypt Crusher meant he had a surefire option of escape up here with him.

     “If I can just summon my Amigos while making sure Moneybone is distracted, they can use its rift engine to get back to the academy in no time! But since this is a light elemental zone and there’s only one person at the academy who has a light element vehicle, they’re going to have to find Astroblast as soon as possible!”

     Fiesta momentarily glanced up to examine Count Moneybone’s current expression. He appeared to be staring down at him in victorious bliss, most likely still assuming that his tiny rival wasn’t speaking due to contemplating defeat. 

     “Okay, I’ll start off by asking him how we got here, and move into how he got, specifically, into a light elemental zone in due time. But the most important thing is that I have to keep him talking for just about as long as I can!”

     “Aww…what’s wrong, wittle guy? Is wour defweet just two much fwor you two handwleeeeeee?” Count Moneybone joyously mocked the still silent, tiny Fiesta.

     “Alright, Moneybone…”  Fiesta suddenly spoke up rather calmly, much to Count Moneybone’s sheer and sudden, though attemptedly suppressed, shock. “If you think you’re so high and mighty, and smart, since you’ve apparently already ensured your total victory over me, why don’t you just go ahead and answer this one, simple question for me? Hmm?” he continued on in an outwardly apparent state of regulated fury. “HOW IN THE NAME OF THE ANCIENTS DID YOU EVEN GET US UP HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE?” 

     A thoroughly uncomfortable pause proceeded to follow, one in which Count Moneybone’s skeletal brow steadily furrowed deeper towards his similarly narrowing eye sockets.

     “Oooooooooohhhhhhhh, I see!” he eventually spat out through grinding teeth. “So YOU think you can just wake up in the clutch of COUNT Moneybone, see that you’ve been bested by his technological, and magical capabilities, and then go on to insult him like a petulant little child, hmm? Well I’ll have you know that I’ve been able to magically teleport objects for YEARS! So what makes you think I can’t develop my skills to where conscious beings can be affected too, huh, Fiesta?”

      In the midst of Count Moneybone’s rant, Fiesta had wasted absolutely zero time summoning his amigos, telepathically informing them on the situation as they appeared, before the three miniature skeletons collectively understood that they needed to take the Crypt Crusher back to the Academy, scampering over to the nearby vehicle in heightened urgency, as a result.

     “‘What makes you think I can’t develop my skills to where conscious beings can be affected too, huh, Fiesta?’” Fiesta quoted back to Count Moneybone in rising spite. “Oh, I don’t know…maybe the fact that…you’re an undeniably incompetent piece of shit standing proudly at the peak of the Dunning-Kruger graph’s mount stupid! And the just as indisputable fact that you failed spectacularly at the one, singular, though might I add, EXTREMELY IMPORTANT, job that Kaos gave you back in Superchargers is WAY more than enough proof for me of that point!” 

      There would only be three exact seconds between those words hitting Count Moneybone’s metaphorical brain, and the result.

     “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT”??????????????????????????????????????????????????

     Count Moneybone violently, hysterically, viciously, barbarously, and dementedly screeched at the top of his metaphorical lungs in explosively unwavering, frothing fury as Fiesta only glared up into his eyes in purely staunch contempt. Casting a bit of a sidelong glance over at the Crypt Crusher as the Amigos revved it up and began to drive, Fiesta, as he knew it was best for him to maintain his current facial expression, internally smirked back at the arrogant Count screeching at him; and doing so in nothing but purified, genuine hate. 

****

     “Geez! Was he actually screaming that loud for that long?” Astroblast asked in slight disbelief as he continued to steer the Sun Runner upwards through Skylands’ stratosphere; the elongated, wispy white clouds swishing past the windshield in an instant up against the light blue background of the sky.

     “Ayyyyup!” Tres, huddled up with Uno and Dos upon the seat beside him, (resultantly sharing a seatbelt with them), promptly responded. “Good thing, too, or else we probably wouldn’t even be here in the first place!”

     “Well, I mean, having no windpipe does mean there aren’t really any consequences for doing something like that, so…” Uno added in soon after.

     “Yeah, that’s true, too.”

     “I wonder if they’ll still be screaming at each other when we get there!” Dos lightheartedly pondered with a chuckle.

     “Maybe! I dunno!” Tres giggled out in response.

     Astroblast internally heaved a pained sigh paired with a sharp eye roll. He understood that the amigos weren’t Skylanders in their own rights, and didn’t have nearly as much experience in these kinds of situations as he or Fiesta did…but even so, now was not the time for idle chatter, and Astroblast felt that they should know this. 

     “Well…” he eventually spoke up in an abruptly lowered and serious tone, which seemed to accomplish the intended effect of indirectly reminding them all that this was an urgent rescue mission, “There’s only one way to find out.” 

     Astroblast leaned forwards just slightly in the driver’s seat whilst significantly narrowing his eyes.

He knew based on his ship’s continual Rift Engine-aided velocity, and how far the area defined as being beyond Skyhighlands was from the academy, that the four of them were mere seconds away from arrival by now. It was extremely important, then, for him to properly time the Sun Runner’s deceleration, so that they wouldn’t find themselves breaching into space.

     Gently pressing down on the brake pedal, Astroblast could feel his ship slowing, at a smooth, yet still extremely G-Force intensive rate, causing the three Amigos to get viciously thrusted backwards into their seats.

     “OH-WHAAAAAAAH! OH THANK THE ANCIENTS THAT SEAT BELTS EXIST-WRUUUUUUUNGH!”

     Tres screeched out in palpable terror, as his bony body was given no choice but to lay there and soak in the impact.

     Astroblast opted to say nothing as his surroundings became progressively more discernible from the Sun Runner’s braking. Eventually, the ship slowed down to a stop, and the three Amigos were able to gradually pull themselves together.

     “*Bluuuuuurgh*...uh…we’re ok….we’re ok, right guys? Ok yeah, we’re good.” Dos stammered out while shaking himself into reorientation. 

     Astroblast was once again tempted to speak up, if only to ask how the Amigos weren’t used to these levels of G-Forces after years of riding with Fiesta in the Crypt Crusher, but once again, ultimately decided to refrain. 

     “...alright, then…” he mumbled out, whilst driving the Sun Runner forth at a pace slow enough to scan the cloudy terrain below him. “...well now we need to find those two, and-”

     “OH, WELL LOOK DOWN AT YOU, FIESTA, THINKING YOU’RE SOOOOOOOOO SMART! OF COURSE LIGHT TRAPTANIUM CAN BE USED TO ENTER LIGHT ELEMENT ZONES! IF IT HAD TO BE A LIVING THING, THEN HOW WOULD YOUR OWN O’ SO PRECIOUS CRYPT CRUSHER GET INTO AN UNDEAD AREA WITHOUT AN UNDEAD DRIVER? HMMMMMM?”

     “...well, that was easy.”

     Immediately steering the Sun Runner in the direction of Count Moneybone’s screech, it wouldn’t be very long before Astroblast and the amigos spotted a royally dressed skeleton pricked up in a royally pissed-off stance, glaring down towards his furiously clenched fist, continuing his verbal barrage without any form of a break in between each sentence. 

     Astroblast proceeded to press a few buttons on the Sun Runner’s control panel in silence, whilst the Amigos collectively decided to hold their own. A soft wiring sound could be heard building up inside the Sun Runner, as upon the vehicle’s windshield, an electrical screen appeared to boot up. Utilizing this screen to zoom in significantly onto the back of Count Moneybone’s skull, Astroblast brought a golden target icon onto the screen, and maneuvered it onto the skull’s back’s middle. The amigos could only metaphorically hold their breath in preparation for what they figured out was going to happen next.

     *FWOOSH*!

The slim and precise, yet powerful laser blast shot itself across the sky, and towards the still hollering form of Count Moneybone just beyond.

     “SO IF YOU TELL ME ONE MORE TIME THAT I DON’T POSSESS THE SKILLS NECESSARY TO STEAL YOUR CRYPT CRUSHER WITHOUT SETTING OFF ANY ALARMS, I AM GOING TO-”

     Fiesta had indeed taken note of the Sun Runner in front of him by now, yet still knew he had to remain in character to ensure Count Moneybone stayed distracted. As a result, he was just barely able, from the very corners of his eye sockets, to watch the bright, red laser that was shot from the ship zooming closer to his far larger nemesis, who remained utterly oblivious to its presence.

     “AND DON’T YOU GO ON THINKING THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU HELPED DEFEAT ME ONCE, THAT AUTOMATICALLY MEANS I’M GOING TO GET BEATEN AGAIN!”

Count Moneybone spat onto the captive Fiesta.

“SO MAYBE-EEEEEEEEEEEE!”

     The following moments seemed to come by the pure, yet acquired force of instinct alone, as Count Moneybone’s pupils dilated.

     *SNAP*

   “AAAAA-HAH!”

     Instantly realizing the jig was up, Astroblast knew that he needed to get as close as he could to Count Moneybone, so he could better analyze his next moves.

     Count Moneybone, now donning his suit of robotic armor, gave a muted, sneering “Hmph.” as the Sun Runner pulled in closer to, though still far above, his position. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Astroblast Danger Guts himself! Oh, I’m so scared!”

     To this, Astroblast could only narrow his eyes before Dos stood up on the shotgun seat to clap back.

     “Hey! He’s got a sick-ass laser gun, and you don’t!”

     “*Pffft*! Like that stupid little ‘Special Class EZ 9,000 Laser Gun’ could do any more damage than a Chompy bite-”

     Not willing to waste any more time, Astroblast let loose a laser barrage on the skeleton, being sure to avoid his robotic suit’s left hand where Fiesta was still being clutched. 

     “-AAAAGH-A- GRRRRRRR-!” naturally rather ticked off from getting attacked whilst off guard, Count Moneybone snapped his bony fingers once more, summoning into the skies an entire air support squadron of his own robots; all of a model similar to that which he had used in his final battle during Swap Force.

     Thankfully for Astroblast, even though Fiesta’s Amigos weren’t as experienced working in the Sun Runner as they were the Crypt Crusher, they still knew their way around Supercharger vehicles’ supporting firearms, and were not hesitant to show it.

     “TAKE THIS YA STUPID…COPTER BOT THINGS!” Dos hollered out from the shotgun seat as he and his fellow Amigos gathered up around the Sun Runner’s supporting firearms control panel in front of the very same seat.

     With the Amigos covering him, Astroblast was free to focus on Count Moneybone, who was, no doubt, firing back at the Sun Runner in the form of purple plasma ball blasts from his robotic suit’s wrists. Weaving in and around to dodge the shots, Astroblast kept his gaze locked firmly onto the former ruler of the underworld; knowing once the snarky Skeleton’s robotic armor gave in, he would be rendered essentially helpless. Utilizing his Sun Runner’s Satellite Support move, the crystalline Supercharger could now see Count Moneybone’s health bar above his suit’s skull headpiece, whilst he continuously whittled it down with his lasers.

     “HEY! WOULD YOU STOP MOVING AROUND? IT’S WORKING ANNOYINGLY WELL!” Count Moneybone eventually roared up towards the still-firing Spacecraft and its occupants.

     The instant this remark hit Fiesta’s metaphorical ears, the captive Supercharger burst out into a prolonged bout of half-smirking half-chuckling at his former dictator and prolonged mutual rival.

     “You never actually learn anything, do you?”

     “SHUT UP, FIESTA, OR ELSE YOUR LOWER JAW’S GETTING RIPPED OFF, TOO!”

     “Hah! Oh really? Well I’d just LOVE to see you try!”

     Swiveling his robotic suit’s head around to meet with Fiesta’s challenging gaze, Count Moneybone let a growl progressively rise up in his metaphorical throat.

     “I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I ONCE PUNCHED ONE OF THOSE STUPID TROLL SHREDNAUGHT MACHINES OUT OF COMMISSION WITH THIS SUIT! IN ONE PUNCH! SO UNLESS YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW, EXPECT TO SEE YOUR MANDIBLE ON MY TROPHY SHELF!”

     Fiesta held onto the resulting silence for only a single second “...what suit?”

     “WHAT-?”

    *FSHWINK-CLUNK*

    “.......................................................uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……………………the one that’s now in pieces on the floor?”

     “Alright, Moneybone! Hand him over!” Astroblast called out to the defeated skeleton as he slowly lowered the Sun Runner towards ground level. “Everyone here knows what’s going to happen if you don’t, so why don’t you just save yourself all that trouble, and put Fiesta down NOW?”

     “...........................................uh……..” Count Moneybone blankly vocalized, his immobilized body shaking in bewilderment as his eyes betrayed the dawning of reality. “Uh-......umm…….I-” and then, just like that, the infamous former ruler of the underworld perked all the way back up. In stance, in demeanor, in everything. Just as if nothing had ever happened at all.

     “Oh, oh you may THINK you’ve already won, but what kind of evil genius doesn’t have a secret backup plan lying up their sleeve?”

     “What? What is he-no. No, I can’t just assume that he’s bluffing. I gotta stay on guard!” Astroblast internally deliberated as the metaphorical neurons within Count Moneybone’s skull began firing for the very first time in the entire encounter.

     “YES, YES! LIE THERE IN SHOCK, OH WON’T YOU? BECAUSE I JUST SO HAPPEN TO HAVE ONE MORE ADVANCED SECRET TECHNIQUE LEFT!” Count Moneybone continued, ending his sentence with a dramatic point into the air. “WITH A TWIST!”

     “Secret technique? Wait a second IF THIS GUY ACTUALLY THINKS HE’S GOING TO OUTRUN THE SUN RUNNER-”

     “YEET!”

      “WHA-?”

      “FIESTA!” the three Amigos shrieked out in rising horror.

     Immediately slamming the Sun Runner’s gas pedal, Astroblast lurched forwards in order to zip his way over to the newly airborne Fiesta, before his momentum was brought to a nauseating instantaneous halt a second later by a newly snapped-in barrage of Count Moneybone’s air support robots. Looking through a stray gap in the currently robot-smothered windshield, Astroblast could see Count Moneybone sprinting forwards upon the clouds, presumably in order to snatch up the now undoubtedly unconscious Fiesta before he could.

     “YOU THREE HOLD BACK THE ROBOTS! I’LL GO AFTER FIESTA!” Astroblast called out to the Amigos as the Sun Runner’s windshield flipped open. With the robots now having been launched into every conceivable direction, Astroblast snagged the swiftly-dwindling opportunity and lept out of the driver’s seat onto the ground.

     Sensing a faint: “WE’RE ON IT!” echoing from behind him, Astroblast’s astronaut boots pounded against the floor as he began gaining ground on Count Moneybone.

     “MONEYBONE!” Astroblast screeched out to the sprinting Skeleton before him.

     “HUH?” Count Moneybone heaved out before taking a glance over his shoulder.

     “HEY, WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY LASER GUN AGAIN?”

     “...uh…uh-oh.” 

     Promptly picking up the pace, not out of the need to make it to Fiesta first, but out of his own natural instinct for self-preservation, Count Moneybone let a terrified: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” escape his metaphorical lungs as he continued scampering forth. Ultimately, however, his overflowing metaphorical synapses were eventually forced to admit that he couldn’t keep himself out of firing range forever. And that was when it finally came to him.

     “WELP, GUESS IT'S TIME TO MAKE USE OF THE CLASSIC VERSION!”

     Before Astroblast behind him even had a chance to react, much less attempt to figure out what that even meant, Count Moneybone had completely swiveled himself around.

     “RUN AWAY!” he began to wail as he hotfooted himself out of danger.

     “Ugh…” Astroblast groaned while rolling his eyes. 

     Placing his laser gun back at his side so he could have both hands ready to grab ahold of Fiesta, Astroblast continued sprinting forwards. 

     “There’s absolutely no way that Count Moneybone could’ve thrown Fiesta any significant distance. I’ve gotta be getting really close-THERE HE IS!”

     As he had suspected, Fiesta was out cold. Astroblast needed to look him over for injuries as soon as he possibly could, and to this end, as the shrunken Supercharger gained more and more room in his field of view, Astroblast timed a leap forwards with an outstretched arm.

      Successfully snagging the skeleton off the floor with his right hand as a result, Astroblast immediately began feeling over Fiesta’s body to make sure he wasn’t severely injured. He couldn’t care less that he’d landed on his chest from his leap. All that mattered was whether or not his friend was hurt.

     A swift preliminary check told Astroblast that Fiesta hadn’t gained any major breaks or fractures from getting thrown across the terrain. Importantly, that meant moving or handling him wasn’t going to exacerbate any injuries. 

     “...okay, now that Fiesta’s safe, I’ve gotta go back and help the Amigos clear out the rest of those robots, so we can finally get back to the Academy!” he internally noted to himself.

     Now, there was nothing left to do except get up off the floor and go. To this end, Astroblast attempted to pick up his left foot so he could place it onto the ground and push himself upwards. Only to feel his entire leg getting violently dragged back down to the floor, seemingly a millisecond later.

     “WHA-”

     “HAH! DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS GOING TO GIVE UP THAT EASILY?”

     “MONEYBONE!”

     “THAT’S COUNT MONEYBONE TO YOU, ASTROBLAST DANGER GUTS!”

     Not only had the skeletal former dictator somehow slid himself back into the game, he seemed to be keeping a bewilderingly firm hold on Astroblast’s leg, preventing the Supercharger’s escape. It would only take one glance backwards, however, for this momentary mystery to be solved.

     “AHAHAHAH! NOW WHAT SORT OF EVIL GENIUS DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE, IF I DIDN’T HAVE MORE ROBOTIC ARMOR SUITS AT MY FINGERTIPS?”

     Astroblast strained to reach for his laser gun at his side, only for the full force of the suit’s left foot to come crashing down upon his forearm as he did. An overwhelming barrage of sharp, tingling pain signals shot straight to the crystal man’s brain before the numbness began to settle in.

     Count Moneybone only smirked as he immediately followed this up with a plasma ball blast straight  to the face. The superheated purple orb struck Astroblast square on the left cheek, creating a great, branching crack in the region, and causing him to give a pained: “GURNGH!” sound as a newfound burning sensation seared into the wound.

      “JUST HAND HIM OVER ALREADY! WE’RE NOT PLAYING THIS GAME OF KEEP AWAY ANY MORE!”

Count Moneybone spat out to the writhing Supercharger below.

“NOT LIKE YOU CAN REALLY DO ANYTHING ELSE ANYWAY! …EXCEPT DIE, OF COURSE!”

     Astroblast continued to breathe as he lay trapped within the armored skeleton’s grasp. Count Moneybone, then, continued awaiting an answer, positively reveling in the elation of his ultimate victory, as he did.

     “...no.” Astroblast finally broke the silence, in a pained and ragged, yet, to Count Moneybone, shockingly composed tone. “No. There’s still one more thing I can do.”

     Without skipping a single beat, Astroblast shakily moved his arm holding Fiesta in closer to his face, as he glared Count Moneybone straight down his undead pupils with narrowed eyes.

     And that was when he opened up his mouth.

     It seemed as though time itself had dilated around the two conscious beings to a point where it halted entirely. Yet with each passing nanosecond, Count Moneybone’s metaphorical neurons were able to continuously piece together exactly what Astroblast was doing. Still, he could only react as fast as his metaphorical brain could process his actions. Bound by his physical limitations within the shackles of time’s linear arrow, Count Moneybone was resigned to the role of a mere observer, whilst Astroblast’s own movements progressed.

     Astroblast knew very well that this might just be the only possible way he could protect his friend in this moment. That meant that no matter how Fiesta tasted, or how hard he was to swallow, Astroblast was going to get him down to safety. Down to a place where the shrunken skeleton was quite literally surrounded by his friend. Surrounded by the soft, malleable walls of his stomach, but also by the solid, firm, crystal exterior that acted as his skin.

     And so, Astroblast stretched open his crystal jaws, exposing the fleshy interior of his maw, as he extended his white-colored tongue, where Fiesta would be laid down. Upon the unconscious skeleton’s first contact with his fellow Supercharger’s taste buds, the sensory receptor cells zapped his flavor up to the crystal man’s brain; just as fast as time would allow. Though Astroblast’s brain was certainly not in a position to focus its resources on examining Fiesta’s taste, the signal was nonetheless received. Thus, as Fiesta was slid further along the warm, squishy surface of the tongue, his mildly spicy chili pepper flavor was dragged along with him. It certainly wasn’t anything Astroblast couldn’t handle, though. (Especially not after all his Enchilada Night experience). So, the light Supercharger merely shoved his skeletal friend deeper into his maw, as Count Moneybone stood by, imobile.

     Eventually, Fiesta was pushed deep enough into Astroblast’s maw to where his skull headpiece bumped against his white uvula. The plump, bulbous sack of flesh swung back and forth for a while from the strike, as Fiesta’s shoes entered into the maw at last. 

     Able to sense the entirety of his friend’s form tucked away within his maw, Astroblast swiftly snapped shut his jaws, enclosing Fiesta inside the warm, damp chamber, and causing a *click* noise to echo throughout it, not like Fiesta could even hear it in the first place. 

     Count Moneybone sure could, though, the detection of which only solidified in his mind the notion of what Astroblast was going to do. For even though his maw was sealed up and secluded, it could still very much be pried open with force. No, for Fiesta to be truly safe, he needed to go somewhere deeper.

     Raising up the back of his tongue, Astroblast could sense Fiesta’s skull headpiece scraping against the alveolar ridges upon his hard palate. Soon, gravity would draw the skeleton downwards and towards the crystal man’s pharynx. With sealed jaws leaving hardly any room for comfortability, Astroblast could sense both Fiesta’s skull headpiece as well as the felt on the back of his Mariachi suit brushing up against his soft palette, naturally resulting in a second contact with his uvula. Nonetheless, he understood deeply that right now, the most important objective was to keep his friend safe. Consequently, the crystal man’s white colored epiglottis covered up his laryngeal inlet, as his upper esophageal sphincter opened up. Fiesta’s head and skeletal upper body were thus slid past the laryngopharynx, and into the muscle region of the sphincter, as the downward pushing motion of swallowing squeezed the aforementioned sections of his body into the esophagus. 

     Astroblast didn’t waste any time completing the job, swallowing again in order to shove Fiesta’s  middle body into the muscular tube; once more for his legs, and one final time for his Mariachi shoes. His esophagus’ rhythmic, involuntary contractions of peristalsis could handle the rest.

     And that was when time came rushing back. 

     Astroblast heaved in a gasp of air the instant Fiesta’s shoes slid past his upper esophageal sphincter. Reality began to settle in as a newfound jolt of adrenaline hit his veins. One second later, he could sense that Count Moneybone’s hold around his leg had loosened, as he was still very much stunned. Yanking his leg out of the former dictator’s grasp and planting both his feet on the ground whilst forcing his arms up underneath him, Astroblast gathered all his energy into his left leg. 

     At last, the full force of an upwards striking kick smashed squarely into the skull headpiece of Count Moneybone’s robotic suit, completely cracking the thing open and exposing the fragile form of the skeleton’s head lying within. 

     Now back standing upright, Astroblast needed only to kick the skeletal villain straight in his delicate skull, exactly as he did with the headpiece; thus removing him from the battle entirely. 

     Count Moneybone’s eyes rolled into the back of his sockets as his jaws dropped open from the shock. Soon enough, the entire suit toppled over all at once, as the electronics within began shutting down; presumably due to the unconscious state of its user. 

     Now, there was nothing to do except run.

     His feet striking against the cloudy grounds of the light zone, Astroblast’s adrenaline continued to course through his being, before he spontaneously became vividly aware of Fiesta halfway down his esophagus.

     The continuous peristaltic motions within the organ guided the skeleton towards the stomach as Astroblast’s body continued running forwards. Astroblast himself, however, wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep doing so, mainly considering his injuries. As a result, whilst Fiesta proceeded to move beyond his collarbone, he began to look around for some cover he could safely hide behind.

     Until he could find some, though, he needed to keep going.

     Suddenly able to sense his lower esophageal sphincter opening up as Fiesta was squeezed through, Astroblast finally spotted a cluster of boulders lying in the distance. Picking up his pace as Fiesta made a splashdown in his stomach, Astroblast could sense his fellow Supercharger’s form sloshing around within the non-acidic liquids of the organ. Eventually, however, the shrunken skeleton’s body settled down against the stomach wall, stabilizing him within the crystal man’s guts.

     As he approached the assemblage of boulders he spotted, Astroblast’s speed began to slow. Not only so he could bring himself to a stop when he reached his refuge, but also because he didn’t want Fiesta to get swirled around in his stomach anymore, which was already naturally churning to begin with.

     At last, Astroblast had slowed to a walking pace, as the boulders were now right in front of him. Continuing to pant strenuously as he set himself down against the largest of the bunch, Astroblast shakily placed his left hand over his middle, as an extra layer of protection for Fiesta within.

     The crystal Supercharger could faintly sense a gurgle emulating from the region, as his wholly exhausted, injured body began to slip into unconsciousness. 

****

     The very last thing Fiesta remembered before he struck the ground was, well, being hurtled through the air en route to the ground. Needless to say, then, the moment the shrunken skeleton began to regain consciousness, he did so with hardly any clues about where he could possibly be at this point. That was precisely why, the moment a low-pitched, echoing, rather boisterous rumble graced his metaphorical ears, Fiesta’s interest was roused. 

     Based on the rumble alone, Fiesta could presume that wherever he was right now was an enclosed space, as the echoes didn’t sound as if they had traveled very far. As his metaphorical brain continued to wake, he was soon able to sense that there were many softer noises of similar tones and timbre resonating in his surroundings as well. 

     Something about those noises sounded…familiar. As if he should be able to pinpoint exactly what they were. But as Fiesta knew he wasn’t exactly awake at the current moment, he wasn’t going to force himself to try and figure out their identity quite yet.

     Instead then, he merely examined this mystery chamber’s warmth which his body was now detecting, whilst his bony fingers felt their way over the wall, or obstruction, or whatever else, he was lying up against. The heat itself lay within that glorious sweet spot range that anyone would wish their bed’s blanket would bestow onto them at night. It was comforting, as though it was physically wrapped around him, ensconcing him within an ease of relaxation which could easily lull one to sleep. Yet it did not overheat his form, to where he began yearning for the release of cold air. 

     As for whatever he was lying up against, Fiesta’s first impressions as he glided his fingers over its surface, was that it was slick, damp, and smooth to the touch, yet malleable, and pillowy in its firmness. Fiesta was soon to realize after making these observations, that they were moving as well. Moving in the same way that one’s chest would move up and down as they breathed. Noticeable, yet subtle, rhythmic, and constant. But that wasn’t the only thing that was moving.

     Swishing faintly beneath his bony waist seemed to be some form of liquid pool. Judging from the fact he wasn’t feeling any pain, Fiesta presumed it to be similar to water in nature. Taking in a breath through his skeletal nose, he could sense no sour or bitter smells within his current surroundings, which only further supported that presumption. Exhaling from the same region, Fiesta was now feeling considerably more aware of both himself and his present confines. Thus, there remained nothing else left to do but open his eyes, and figure out once and for all where he was. 

     The moment Fiesta’s eyes flickered open, he was immediately graced by the color white. Once his eyes took the seconds they needed to refocus, the forms of the shifting white walls, and the clear-colored rippling pool below, became apparent. Taking a swift glance around, Fiesta could now be certain he was within an enclosed, secluded area; and that this area was, for now at least, safe. But…what was this area, exactly?

     Heaving in and out a sigh as he repositioned himself with his back against the wall, and his legs straight out in front of him, Fiesta lay down for a moment, before yet another question struck his being.

     Where was Astroblast right now?

     The last time he had seen his fellow Supercharger, he was piloting his Sun Runner near the ground, in a confrontation with Count Moneybone. Fiesta leaned forwards just slightly, and tilted his head downwards in thought. What had Astroblast done, exactly, after that? What had gone on between the crystal man and the Count after the latter had thrown him off into the distance? Fiesta glanced up and around the cushiony, heated chamber he was currently in. Had Astroblast put him in here? Still, where was here, exactly? Where was this white, compact, warm, damp, liquid-filled, squishy-

     Fiesta’s bony body froze up. 

     Yet another deep rumble reverberated across the churning walls, as Fiesta tilted his head upwards. Sure enough, there it was. All the confirmation he needed. He had no idea what the name for it was, but that was the lower esophageal sphincter he was currently staring at. Returning his head to its default position, Fiesta sat down in silence for a while, before eventually picking himself up and taking a couple of steps forwards whilst gazing at the liquid pool beneath him. Yet again, there it was, right below him under the waves. Though he could not identify it by name, he was gazing at the Pylorus, the sphincter leading from the stomach into the small intestine. Astroblast’s pylorus.

     Slowly returning to where he was laying before, and settling himself back down, waist deep within Astroblast’s stomach juices, the shrunken skeleton merely sat there in silence, save for the natural gurgling ambiance of the organ, and let himself take it all in.

     Eventually, however, his mind had finished doing such.

     Even if he was in Astroblast’s stomach, that was nothing to worry about! I mean, how else was his fellow Supercharger supposed to keep his shrunken form away from Count Moneybone’s unrelenting pursuit? It made complete sense! Plus, at the end of the day, what mattered most was that he was safe.

     And that was when a newfound sensation of mental clarity and calmness flooded over him. Only for it to completely dissipate just as fast as it had arrived. 

     He was most certainly safe right now. But could the same be said for Astroblast? Judging from the fact that he hadn’t heard the crystal man’s voice yet, and that he hadn’t felt the stomach’s spatial position change at all from any potential walking, running, or general moving around, Fiesta concluded his fellow Supercharger was most likely unconscious. 

    Still, that left one more very important question yet to be answered. Unconscious in safe surroundings, or unconscious in unsafe surroundings? Just as he hadn’t heard Astroblast’s voice since he woke up, he similarly hadn’t heard…well, anything else coming from outside the stomach. But this didn’t automatically mean his friend was out of danger. His years of experience as a Skylander had certainly taught him that well.

     At the very least, Fiesta did know that Astroblast was alive, and that his bodily functions were most likely all stable. He also knew Astroblast wasn’t being moved by anything or anyone. Yet, until he could get verbal confirmation from that man himself that he was okay, he would have no way of knowing for sure whether or not he really was.

     For now then, all he could do was wait, and stay vigilant about his observations. If anything about his current surroundings or situation changed, Fiesta would leap right on it. Leaning further back into Astroblast’s stomach walls, Fiesta gave a slight nod to himself, knowing what he needed to do.

****

     The very first things Astroblast could sense as his consciousness began to return were the sharp burning and throbbing sensations emulating from his damaged cheek; swiftly followed by the dull tinging in his injured arm. Still, he had regained a significant amount of energy since he had gone unconscious, and was therefore ready to get up and start moving again.

     But first, he needed to check on Fiesta. Upon his jittering eyelids opening wide enough, Astroblast glanced up, and upon seeing nothing of immediate danger, glanced down to his middle. He could sense that there was still pressure being exerted onto his stomach walls. That meant Fiesta was still in there. Judging from the fact he hadn’t heard anything besides gurgles coming from his guts since…well, since the tiny skeleton first arrived, Fiesta was also probably still unconscious. But he was still inside his stomach, and that meant he was safe.

     Now that he knew his friend was okay, Astroblast tilted his head back up, and glanced around his immediate field of view for a more thorough assessment of danger. After once again spotting nothing that could be of danger to him, he cautiously turned his head to the left, and then to the right. Still no danger. Even so, he wouldn’t know for sure whether or not he was safe until he looked behind himself.

     Cautiously placing both hands in front of him on the ground for support as he slowly shuffled onto his knees, Astroblast turned himself around in order to examine the region which was previously behind him. Nothing. That meant he was safe for now. Nonetheless-

     “Astroblast?”

     Reflexively leaping onto his feet in silence whilst yanking his laser gun from his side and aiming it in front of him, Astroblast swiftly came to his senses moments later.

     “Woah there, amigo! Calm down! It’s me!”

     Shifting his gaze back towards his midsection, Astroblast softly exhaled a relieved sigh.

     “Fiesta!”

     “Yep, that’s me!”

     “Are you okay?”

     “Most certainly! Are you?”

     “Well,” Astroblast hesitantly responded, not wanting his friend to get worried about him. “I took a couple hits back in a scuffle with Count Moneybone while trying to keep you away from him, but other than that, I’m fine.”

     “Well, you certainly succeeded in that, now, didn’t you?” Fiesta lightheartedly chuckled.

     “I…guess I did!” Astroblast replied with a giggle.

     “How did Moneybone even react to that?”

     “Shock.”

     “Eh, makes sense. Where are the Amigos?”

     “Count Moneybone summoned more air support bots, and I needed them to keep the robots back using the Sun Runner while I went after you on foot.” Astroblast explained. “Which basically means we’re just waiting for them to catch up at this point.”

    “I see. Guess it's time to start waiting, then!” Fiesta replied whilst placing his skeletal hands behind his head, laying one leg on top of the other, and leaning further back into Astroblast’s stomach walls.

     “Ummmm….” Astroblast awkwardly spoke upon this action, “...do you want to get out of there, or…”

     “Nah. It’s a lot safer in here, after all. And comfier. And warm. And…okay I think you get the picture.”

     “......alright, then! I’ll just…sit down, and start waiting, too.” Astroblast responded whilst carefully lowering himself to the floor, not wanting to disturb Fiesta within.

     Finally getting settled on the ground after a while, Astroblast proceeded to lay there in silence for a few seconds, before Fiesta perked up once again.

     “You know, I don’t know where you got this idea from, Astroblast, but however it happened, I guess it really does make you Astroblast Danger Guts!”

     To this, Astroblast could only give a stunned grin and a soft *pfft* sound as his uninjured cheek began blushing slightly. “...I-...I-I mean-” he struggled to form a response. “...well yeah! I… guess it really does! Heh…”

     Giving the walls he was presently snuggled up against a slight rub in solidarity, Fiesta then decided it would probably be best to stay quiet for a while.

     Thus, the two Superchargers rested silently in the midst of each other’s company, until the Sun Runner became visible over the horizon.

[tifa1991]

Trafalgar Law and Reader Part 4.

“My...heart...you have my heart. I want to know why, but first I want it back right now" you still sounded weak but your voice had emphasis.

"I can't, at least not now" the blackhaired man said in a cold tone.

"Are you kidding me?" you got back up, ignoring the dizziness and trying not to sound too weak.

"You can't do that".

"I already did" he wandered over to a wardrobe where his long coat and a special belt hung, which he grabbed and placed on your duvet. You took it straight away, your two short swords were still there as was your small bag full of Berry. But one important thing was missing.

"Are you looking for this?" Law held a small dendenmushi in his hand, it wore small aviator sunglasses on its case and had a red scar under each eye. You were already worried he would have it.

"Why don't you tell me why you're really on Punk Hazard?"

"Because I don't know if I can trust you. I've last seen you two years ago and now you attacked me and stole my heart, while at the same time you took care of me. Maybe you should tell me what's going on first" you said in a calm, still weakened tone.

"Look, we know each other, our crews are not enemies"

"-but not friends either" he said serious, "but I understand what you're getting at. We won't get any further if we don't tell each other something" he said and you nodded.

"Is it safe here? Can I talk to you here without anyone hearing us?" He looked at you for a moment saying nothing. “Come on, Law. You’re definitely not alone in this huge thing and I’m not talking about your crew.” He closed his eyes briefly and thought about whether it would be right to reveal part of his plans. Sure, you were right, you knew each other. A little over two years ago, he and his crew landed on a winter island at the same time as you and your crew on one of the routes to the Sabaody Archipel, shortly before heading to the Sabaody Archipel itself. It turned out that parts of your crew had to work together and as chaotic and exhausting as your stubborn captain was, Trafalgar Law had to admit that he was more than capable of leading his crew and could fight. You and he proved the same when you had to fight Pacifista together with him and Eustess Kidd on the Sabaody Archipel. You four were a good team.

"It's safe in this room, wouldn't say that for other rooms," he finally said. "Okay then, for now, I suggest we start again from the beginning. I'll tell you something you want to know and then you tell me" your voice was hoarse and your throat slowly started to hurt due to being dry despite the glass of water. Law sighed and turned the chair in front of him, his right arm resting on the back and your dendensnail in his left, he looked at you with a piercing gaze. "Fine. I'll start. As I said, why are you really here on Punk Hazard and how did you find it?"

"Our Captain send three of us on a mission to find out if a dangerous rumor is true. We heard about Punk Hazard which we only knew a the Island where Akainu and Aokiji fought, that it still had a factory going on with bizarre experiments. Knowing it couldn't be found with a logport we found out what islands would be nearby and docked at yellowhealth a small trading port near dressrosa."

"So the rumors about your crew disbanding or disappearing aren't true?"

"No, only to a limited extent. We haven't disbanded, we've just gone into hiding and are operating in the background. Somehow we got deeper and deeper into the underworld of bad pirates, marines, bounty hunters, bandits and even some pretty rich people. And the name of something in particular appeared more and more often, which is said to have its origins in Punk Hazard".

Law grinned, "I understand, then you are responsible for the fact that some of the most evil pirates and criminals were gradually handed over to the Marine. I've heard some rumors myself about a group of unknown people causing turmoil in the underground, and the leader fit the description of the Captain of the Spirapirates very well. There was also talk of a woman who looked like a demon, and by then it was clear to me that you had something to do with it". "

Oh then you remember our navigator?"

"Sure, she was a Kryptid-Zoanfruituser Type Gargoyle".

You nooded. "This means she is able to sense the magnetic poles of the islands, which are not too far away. This also applies to islands that the logport cannot record, such as Punk Hazard. Normally the three of us were supposed to enter the island but the group around our captain had figured out other things. We had made quite a few enemies in the underworld and should therefore not follow this lead alone and come back to better analyze the situation from our hiding place".

[phantomguild]

Meeting the Magi

[ @pokeask-magi-retreat ]

Mint began to approach the hovering Pokémon, though she stopped midway through as soon as she noticed the mysterious Vulpix a short distance away. She gave one of her usual beaming smiles.

"Hey there! You coming up to see the Magi too?"

The Vulpix backed away slightly, as if afraid. Though, before long, it gave a stiff nod of its head. "I heard you're supposed to give a gift to them... Though I didn't know I had to bring something." At hearing this, Mint just smiled and floated up to it, reaching into her bag.

"Here. I brought plenty, so you can make your offering too!" She grinned, holding out a collection of berries for the vulpine to take. It seemed stunned by her gesture of kindness, briefly hesitating before taking the handful into its paws. A short distance away, Ashen and Vivian smiled at seeing Mint's kindness.

"C'mon! Let's go see them together! Sides, I want to show them something, and I think you'll like it too!" Without even waiting for its response, Mint grabbed the unknown fox's paw and began pulling it along. It was all it could do to keep hold of the berries.

"Gyah!" was all it could let out as it was unexpectedly dragged along by the excited little hybrid. For someone so young, Mint had a surprising amount of strength. "Are you sure it'll be alright?"

"Don't worry, they're very nice! Though, I've only met them once before, but still! They gave me some good advice the last time I was here!"

Mint and the as-yet unknown Vulpix approached the hovering wisps of light, the former excitedly dragging the confused latter along. Eventually, they stood before the Magi, Ashen and Vivian watching at a distance.

"Hey there! Been a little bit, hasn't it?" Mint greeted, setting down her share of berries, as well as a thermos of water that she brought along. The Vulpix hesitantly followed her lead, setting down the share of berries that Mint had given it.

"I wanted to say thanks for what you said last year! I've been trying to keep what you guys said in mind, and I think I've gotten a bit better! In fact, since I started pacing myself rather than rushing things, it's actually improved how fast I've grown!" Mint stepped back a few paces and the fox looked over its shoulder at her in confusion. Was she going to show off some move or ability for them...?

Taking a breath, the hybrid began to focus. Blue flames began to swirl around her, beginning at her paws, climbing up her body. Before long, her entire form was engulfed in a myriad of blue light. Her body began to grow a few inches, though many of the details were near impossible to make out through the inferno. Mint grunted with effort, trying to hold the form for as long as she could. Though a few stray flames entered the Vulpix's body, going unnoticed by Mint.

For a few brief moments, a fae-like aura completely engulfed her, her secondary type changing accordingly. Though, as much progress as she'd made, she couldn't hold it quite yet. Mint's irises shrank as her body locked up on her. The blue flames, and her form, burst away in a brilliant flash of blue light, revealing her normal form once again. She lowered herself onto her paws and tail, exhausted.

"Hah... Pretty... Pretty sick, huh?" Mint said in between breaths. Her attempted form change, failed as it was, still left her utterly wiped. She began slowly crawling back towards the Magi and the Vulpix, the latter of whom went to support her as she approached again, with her uttering out a quick "thanks". She looked back at where she was just standing, noticing that the land itself, albeit only a few inches of it, was given a bit more vitality.

"Just... wanted to show off a bit..." She said with a weaker-than-normal grin. "Call me greedy or cliché if you want... but I will control that power, and use it to protect everyone I love, no matter how long it takes..."

[xxgremlinleexx]

More info on our situation.

This will be posted to the GoFundMe as well.

I feel that it is incredibly important to express just how last resort this is. It has come to my understanding that if people are to come across this, they are likely to believe I haven't exhausted all of my options.

This, unfortunately, isn't the case.

Mississippi has never been safe for us as black, queer people. And having neighbors turned against us for something orchestrated by pur landlord has made it even less so for us to continue being here.

There is absolutely nothing left for us here.

Lemme explain. As of now, both my partner and I are employed. However, our pay and hours are nowhere near enough to cover the cost of rent without outside assistance from friends and family who are all also struggling at this time. This includes our other partner who has their own shit to deal with. I work at Dominos and am paid a flat $9.00/hr as a CSR. I'm only granted NINE (9) hours a week. Yes. You read that correctly. Only 9 hours a week. 18 every two. 36 a month. Which is why I started doing commissions. To make ends meet.

Because Void (our cat) would genuinely have nowhere to go if we didn't make things work somehow. We've had him since he was a kitten, and he would be even more devastated than us.

Friends can't take him. Not anyone nearby. And with the lack of proper shelters, surrendering him would likely spell death.

Just know, while things weren't perfect, they were not always like this. We started falling behind after a technological error on the Apartment's end (More on that later) where two months' worth of rent was never posted. And once we made the error known, it came with fees stacked from both months and then some. In the middle of March. After I'd been dropped from my internship at a super Christian-run food bank. Where I was the only openly queer one there. 🙃

And it's truly only been downhill from there.

My nesting partner is paid slightly more than me at 9.75/hr, but they haven't been given a full 40 hour week since September of last year. This is after asking for all that can be given at their job despite dealing with chronic pain and being immunocompromised. They've been working without any sort of proper accommodation aside from being offered brief breaks in the store's beer cooler.

We've taken out payday loans out of sheer desperation not to lose our home, two of which almost crippled us.

We do not have a car. Mississippi's public transportation system is absolutely abysmal. I used the bus to go to work during my internship. I was left stranded twice and was s3xually harrassed during my rides on several occasions. The system is horrendously underfunded, so the drivers just don't care.

We have tried various programs including section 8. The wait lists are endless.

The property manager has explicitly expressed that they do not accept vouchers from any of the most prevelant housing assistance programs in our area. Which was one of the reasons why we almost weren't allowed to move here (Making a video on that soon.) during a time where we were, in fact, homeless and running out of time at the hotel we were staying at. The only assistance we have is for electric. And that's only because that bill is not processed directly through the complex itself.

I've been permanently flagged by the unemployed office. Why? Because one of my employers (the most transphobic experience I've ever had. More on that later.) claimed that nobody under my legal name, SS, or anything had ever worked there before. Every other experience listed was verified, but due to that one instance, even when I provided my old work badge and my W2, I was (and still am) no longer able to apply for unemployment without being stuck in a neverending wait list for an investigation that will never come. It will remain stuck in pending for months and then the case number will magically close without notice.

We have Food Stamps, but due to the sudden dip in income and hours, MDHS has pretty much flagged that I'm able-bodied but just choosing not to work. Which has resulted in the amount we're given monthly to harshly decrease.

What I'm trying to say is that the truly needy and unfortunate are treated like rats and scammers. Pests. These programs put in place to help us aren't funded enough to make the people tasked with running them truly care. So they turn us away.

This has been a problem in Mississippi for years. The state government is given money to help and distribute as needed, but those funds are withheld. Millions of dollars every year are kept away from the families who need it most, and nobody here can answer why.

And if you're queer or a person of color? Good luck.

I explain all of this to say that we genuinely need help wherever we can get it.

We need to get out of Mississippi.

Please help in any way you can. Spread this and my GoFundMe wherever you can. It is us the link above. Share it wherever, whether you can donate or not.

My commissions are open. All three slots are available. I will gladly work for the money.

Thank you for your reading.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

@taznovembercelebration - Cat / Baby

It was late when Taako came home. Much, much later than it usually would be. Unfortunately, part of teaching meant dealing with parents. And with parents came the "but my perfect angel child can't do anything wrong ever!". And with that came the mountains of video evidence that their perfect angel child did, in fact, set fire to the cafeteria and reanimate the frogs that another class was set to dissect. Y'know, normal magic school things.

So yes, it was much later than normal. What he wanted was to reheat his spaghetti left over from last night and then lay face first into bed for the next ten hundred years. He wanted to pile cats on top of him until he couldn't do anything else except sit there and feel the vibrations of their purring. He wanted Kravitz to just like, hold his head, because he forgot to get a new ice pack and a headache had been slowly building all day.

What he got instead were his cats surrounding him upon entrance into the house, meowing desperately. Not too unusual within itself, because they were all attention whores and would do next to anything to get their desired amount of affection. What was unusual was that Angus Jr Jr (named after Angus Jr, who decided that human Angus was a much better dad than Taako and Kravitz were, the little traitor) practically climbed up him like a living jungle gym, wailing, fur on end.

"Hey," Taako said. Angus Jr. Jr. gave a louder, more distressed wail. "Hey. Listen. Is this how we talk to people we love, Angus Jr. Jr.?"

Angus Jr. Jr. flicked his tail directly into Taako's face. The door to the kitchen was open and Taako could see Kravitz's shadow from where he was standing. Maybe Lup's too? And if there was a Lup, there was a Barry. Maybe Angus Jr. Jr. was having an understandable reaction to unwanted social interaction. Taako also wanted to climb up someone and cry until they did something about it.

He took one step toward the kitchen and Angus Jr. Jr. squirmed, demanding to be set down. Taako complied and he skittered off to the rest of the cats, who were hanging around the front door like they were trying to trade catnip without Taako noticing. As he approached the kitchen, he could definitely make out Lup talking. And when he opened the door...

Well. Okay.

Lup was definitely here. Kravitz, too. Very important to include Kravitz. However. Instead of doing a normal afterward hang out, as they were wont to do, Lup was holding an actual baby in her arms. A real-life, half-elf baby, who was currently chewing on her finger knuckles. The baby seemed to be... smoking. Literally smoking, with wisps of smoke rising off their skin and ash all over Taako's newly installed counters.

Lup paused midsentence. Kravitz turned to see him and gave him a sort of half-grimace half-smile.

"'Sup," Lup said.

"That's a baby," Taako said.

"Very astute observation," Lup said.

"That's like an actual baby," Taako said, shutting the kitchen door. The cats meowed from behind him, like closing his own kitchen door was a heinous crime against them.

"Sure is," Lup said.

"It's a long story," Kravitz sighed, sounding just as exhausted as Taako felt.

"It's not- like, I'm not taking care of a baby-"

"No, no, no," Kravitz said, at the same time Lup said,

"Uh, 'cuse me, I've already called dibs, thank you."

"No baby for you," Kravitz said, pointing towards Taako. He pointed to himself next. "No baby for me. No- no. No baby. Bad. No."

"Good to see we're still on the same page," Taako said. "Does, uh, does Barry know about your new pal, Lup, or is it a surprise?"

"Oh, Barry knows," Kravitz said, with a voice Taako knew from experience to be "I've hung around these two fuckers all day". "You do not want to get Barry started on baby stuff, he just won't stop-"

"He's gone to get formula," Lup said. "And diapers. And some fire-resistant clothes. And-"

"I got it," Taako said, understanding Kravitz so well right now. "And why, pray tell, are you doing this in my goddamn kitchen and not yours, which is not even fifty feet away from my house?"

"Baby-proof drawers," Lup said, nodding sagely.

"Cat-proof drawers," Kravitz corrected.

"Same difference," Lup said. "Listen, I'll be out of your hair in about, oh, two hours? Three hours? Depends."

"Great," Taako said, out of fucks to give. Sure. A baby. Great. Good idea, sane idea. Can't be any worse than extinguishing the cafeteria and then walking directly in on a group of frogs chasing some of your teachers. Normal day, good day. He was having such a fun time being alive at this very moment. He wanted to be buried under several hundred pounds of bricks so no one could ever bother him again.

And his spaghetti wasn't in the fridge. Slowly, slowly, Taako turned back to Lup and her smoking child.

"Lup," he said. "The spaghetti?"

"Listen," Lup said again.

It was going to be a long fucking night.

[concussed-to-pieces]

On The Shoulders Of Titans

Fandom: Destiny 2

Pairing: M!Titan Guardian/F!Titan Guardian

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: The light flickered. "I couldn't say. Some of us look for our Guardians for decades, sifting through the rubble and hoping to get lucky." The Exo nodded as if he understood. He didn't, of course, but he could pretend. "I'm so glad I found you. You have no idea how long I've been looking."

A/N: Welcome all, welcome to this foray! But before we begin, a small disclaimer: There was no overlap between Season Of The Splicer and The Dawning. For narrative purposes, however, I wrote this as though they were happening at the same time. Also! I have done my research on Exo anatomy, but I am by no means an expert and have had to make some assumptions. I ask only for your leniency on that front. That being said, I hope you enjoy! 💚

Tag List: @velvet-paradox @crookedmoonsaultpunk @thebrotherofmany @calwitch @stargazerofgoldenwords @differentpeanutpatrolfan

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains self-loathing, canon-typical violence, depictions of mental and physical duress and sexual acts between two consenting adults. Stay safe!]

Raised in the middle of a raging thunderstorm, the Exo was stunned to discover that his life was not, in fact, over. 

Metalloid pieces clicked and whirred in his auditory sensors, everything too much and too loud all at once as he forced himself upright, his large frame tottering forward a few steps on unwieldy legs. Something small and bright hovered around his head when he collapsed beneath some cover, too exhausted to move again for the moment.

The thing introduced itself in a chipper yet worried tone, saying that it was a 'ghost'. "Actually," it carried on after a pregnant pause, "I'm your Ghost." 

"A manifestation of my supposed soul?" The Exo asked wearily, his head hanging between his knees. "That kind of ghost?"

"Oh no, no no. Not that kind. I'm just...well, it might be easier to explain once we get to the Last City. How do you feel? You've been dead for a long time."

Dead. Said so glibly, like it didn't matter. "A little lightheaded. Nauseous. What is all this?" The Exo grimaced, gesturing upwards at the ramshackle, bombed-out structure doing a poor job of shielding him from the driving rain. "Where are we?"

"The Cosmodrome of Old Russia."

Well, that left him with even more questions. The Exo popped his jaw, the motion strangely familiar. "Ghost," He queried finally, "why me?"

The light flickered. "I couldn't say. Some of us look for our Guardians for decades, sifting through the rubble and hoping to get lucky." The Exo nodded as if he understood. He didn't, of course, but he could pretend. "I'm so glad I found you. You have no idea how long I've been looking." 

The heartfelt tone of the little machine caught the bulky Exo off-guard, and he extended his hand to it. The Ghost settled into his palm like it belonged there, the points of its...casing? Shell? Body? fitting snugly between his fingers. "I assume I have a directive?" The Exo hesitated, then continued, "I feel like that's what I would need...for some reason."

The lone optic of the tiny Ghost blinked up at him. "Well, you're freshly hatched. We should probably let you rest for a little while. Gather your strength, you know."

"Understood. Are we safe here?" 

"Well…" the Ghost trailed off, its shell popping apart as it rose out of his palm. It continued to expand until it was a small orb of light, plating rotating around it like moons in orbit. "There is a band of refugees not far from here. We'll be safer there."

"Understood." The Exo got to his feet, tearing down a worn piece of red canvas that might have once shielded a doorway when the structure had been intact. The armor that stretched over the natural framework of his body seemed almost too frail to withstand the punishing rain. He took a moment to drape the canvas over his head and shoulders, holding up one side of it and indicating that the Ghost should take shelter beneath the mantle.

…

Amongst the refugees, the Exo known as Bulwark-26 handled the defense. Volunteering to stand between the Fallen, Hive, Cabal, and the group he wandered with through the temperate forests on their way to the nigh-mythical Last City. It seemed like every day they faced some new threat and in an apparently-common twist, the power he had been gifted from what his Ghost called ‘the Traveler’ took on a decisive form as if making an effort to shift with his responsibilities. Lightning surging through his frame, he was always found moving into the fray. 

On the day a Hive tombship dropped out of orbit to regurgitate its shrieking contents upon them, Bulwark toppled several of the tall, thin pine trees to halt the Hive's advance and buy the other refugees time. Arc Light flowed through him and he seized it with both hands, shattering the thralls and acolytes like glass with his armored fists. This was nothing new. What was new, however, was what happened when he noticed the missiles launching from the tombship, aimed at the cowering group of refugees. His barricade had failed, trunks cleaved through by a now-deceased knight, and the crowd was suddenly, incredibly vulnerable to attack. 

No! Bulwark reached out again, Light pulling into him in response to his urgency. The Exo then sprinted back, skidding to a halt in front of the refugees and ordering them to retreat in a voice like thunder. 

The Light this time was different. Instead of being some new offensive power, it stretched itself into a protective dome overhead. The surface swirled opalescent purple, and the Exo was enraptured by the limitless, hungering power of Void Light. The salvo struck the shield with a muffled boom!, the strain of maintaining the barrier shoving Bulwark back a step. He readied himself for the next strike, bewildered when he felt arms wrap around his midsection. 

They didn't run. 

The refugees actually piled up behind him, helping to brace his body against the incoming blows. Bulwark set his jaw, leaning into the assault as he heard someone priming the group's shared, barely-functional rocket launcher. 

"Stepping out!" Her. He shouldn't have even been surprised. She always said she had nothing to lose, brown eyes dark with loss and brow creased with sorrow. “If they can’t shoot through your dome, I doubt I can.”

The launcher looked wrong in her hands, yet it was clear that she had used it before from the way she handled it. The woman settled the weight of it firmly on her shoulder and then braced the launcher against a rock. The tombship attempted to meander ponderously through a fresh wormhole, but she pulled the trigger and blew it out of the sky.

Bulwark had never been more grateful, dropping the Ward immediately and collapsing–

"...Guardian? Guardian."

Bulwark-26 jolted upright, only to sink back down with his head in his hands. Another dream, he thought bitterly. His Ghost, dubbed Requisition (Rex for short) was hovering overhead, an ever-watchful eye. 

"Cabal troops are sweeping the area, Guardian. It won't be long…" Rex paused. "I'm sorry, I know you're exhausted."

"It doesn't matter." Bulwark replied curtly. "Better that you woke me now instead of letting that play out."

"The dream again?"

"Yes." Bulwark sighed. "I had dealt with the Hive, so at least it had only just gotten to her." He paused, and then, painfully soft, he admitted, "I miss her."

"I do too, Bull." Rex assured him gently.

…

Bulwark had been powerless, stripped of that Light which had made him so brazen and sent plummeting to his demise from that Cabal flagship. It was through sheer luck and ingenious armor design that he had managed to limp away from that fall, and even more lucky that he had located his Ghost. Poor Rex had been just as battered as he was, but still mustered up the wherewithal to mend Bulwark's broken frame.

"I can't resurrect you, not since..." The Ghost had sounded utterly beaten, several ruined points of his once-pristine shell drooping under their own weight. "Guardian, the Light is gone."

Then had come the days of panicky skirmishes, shepherding more and more refugees to the Farm and other safe zones. Bulwark-26 found himself constantly surviving by the skin of his teeth, the large Exo unused to caution after having had the Light for so long. As the days turned into weeks, Bulwark had finally received the news that his...friend had been killed. A missile barrage had utterly destroyed the building she lived in, and with so many Guardians Lightless, search and rescue missions were effectively halted in occupied territory.

It shouldn't have mattered. She had been just another refugee to him, after all, and what was one more loss when stacked against the mounting casualties of the Red Legion? The ordinary woman, alone, caring for others to fill the void of whatever she had lost. Bulwark hadn't asked, he hadn't thought it was his place to do so. Never asked her name, either, which filled him with deep regret once she passed away. Many of the refugees didn't share their names, though, suspicious and tense around one another even while they broke bread together. It was the way of things out in the wilds; you kept a hand on your gun and waited for the knife in your back. Bulwark didn't particularly like it, but he understood. Not everyone was as lucky as he was.

She had died during the opening attack of the Red War, and there was nothing he could do about it, yet the loss weighed on him heavily. Her life and countless others had been sacrificed because he hadn’t been strong enough, and the weight of that knowledge alone kept Bulwark rising again and again to fight once he sought out the fallen shard of the Traveler, once he reclaimed the waning remains of the Light housed within it. 

Despite his best intentions he often visited the memories of his time spent in the wilds, the months before he came to the Last City as well as the frantic relocation during the Red War. In a way it was comforting, retreading familiar ground. One memory in particular he returned to more often than he would admit out loud, the events in it never failing to leave him a little more weary than before. He couldn't really find it in himself to be sad, not exactly. It wasn't really a memory that evoked an emotional response at all, not one that he was ready to address. So he just settled on tired. Yet still, it constantly found its way to him, playing out before his eyes when he drifted off…

She had cried herself to sleep against his side one night after the watchfire had died off to embers, the now-patched red cloth wrapped around her shoulders to keep away the damp chill in the air. 

Bulwark had been paralyzed by her presence alone, the Exo remaining stiffly upright for hours after she went still. 

Her brown hair smelled of sweat and smoke; the day's journey had been long and not a soul in the group had the strength to wash up that evening. Least of all Bulwark, who knew he must still reek of Fallen ether.

Certain things had come to mind, certain memories that were apparently his but not, but different, but before. Between the fragments of old battles rose soft moments; delicate fingers tracing the skin he no longer had, the heaving of breath in his lungs, the willing partners he had known. Confusing, jumbled feedback for his now-mechanical form to sort out, to rationalize. He was unsure...what could he even offer, like this? 

Nothing. 

And so when she came to him at his watchfire after a nightmare, her face wet with tears, Bulwark steeled his resolve and held her securely until she cried herself back to sleep. Lulled by the sound of her breathing evening out, the Exo had slipped into a lower functioning state as well. 

He vaguely remembered her stirring against his body before he roused himself in the dawn, one large, metalloid arm thrown over her shoulders as he stretched. She had groaned, relaxing back into his arms, and for a moment Bulwark-26 indulged himself by tightening his hold.

Only for a moment, though.

…

It hadn't taken overly long for the Vanguard to reform and strike down Ghaul. A few months, maybe a year or two. The passage of time was…difficult for the Exo. He had seen many things during his time as a Guardian, and even more of the older memories he bore were ones that were foreign to him. A gift from being a mind uploaded into a fancy frame instead of human, he assumed. Sometimes he felt like he could recall the frigid winds of Europa, the locale many of his kind considered their birthplace. But it was hazy and fleeting, muscle memory in a phantom limb.

He tried not to think about her for years after the Red War. Or was it months? He did his best not to think about her, either way. She was dead, and things like that for someone who wasn't a Guardian tended to be pretty final. But it felt wrong to avoid a memory that for some reason, his mind had slotted into a ‘cherished’ designation, so when the crackling call for aid came down the line once more Bulwark geared up for Europa without a second thought. 

Eliksni refugees. Here, he could be useful. He never thought he'd see the day that the City would open its proverbial doors to the Fallen, and indeed he nearly didn't. The public outcry alone was almost enough to render the effort useless, to say nothing of the odd behavior of the Future War Cult. But Bulwark-26, bullheaded and grim, soldiered onward ferrying the skiffloads of refugees from Europa to the Last City.

He was almost content, all things considered. Staying busy helped to keep the past at bay. 

…

One fateful day (wasn’t it always!), the titan was escorting the next band of Eliksni survivors fresh from Europa. They had children in their ranks, hatchlings, too young to walk and bundled up in slings on their parents' chests. Guardian duos were usually requested for hatchling escorts, the Eliksni exceedingly protective of their young. From what little Bulwark knew of their specifications, eggcloth and things like that, he gathered that the hatchlings were incredibly fragile. 

No other Guardian had responded to the summons, though. The time was odd, maybe, or maybe Lakshmi-2 had pulled something else on their comms. Bulwark eventually just set out through the outskirts of the slums solo with his little band in tow, reminding the group of wiry Eliksni to stay close and quiet. His attempts at stealth were for naught, however (as they all too often were), because they soon ran afoul of a Red Legion sniper nest. One of his charges chittering wildly and pointing upwards was the only warning he got before a bolt blasted a hole in his right shoulder. 

“Rex!” The Exo barked, herding his charges behind the shelter of a nearby rubble heap. The Ghost materialized once he had the all-clear, working quickly to knit the neural mail back together. There hadn’t even been the chance for the wound to hurt, so clean was the shot. Bulwark gave the mended joint an experimental rotation, nodded his thanks to Requisition, set his jaw and alerted Mithrax over the comms. He then chose his targets, scout rifle easily picking off the three psion snipers in their lofty perch. With them gone, he could breathe a little easier. However, the phalanxes were the problem, a duo of them setting their shields together to create more optimal cover for the legionaries. The Cabal were steadily advancing and Mithrax and the rest of the Botza Eliksni ‘welcoming party’ wouldn't be within range for nearly five more minutes, maneuvering through the wrecked slums they called home. That was five minutes Bulwark knew they didn't have. If he was alone, of course, it wouldn't have mattered. But he had to keep his little group safe. 

Rage boiled in his mechanical lungs; hadn't they dealt with enough? Between his heavy-handed correction of the hunter and titan he had encountered earlier in his patrol rounds and this new incursion, it seemed like everything in the universe was pitting itself against his charges. 

“Stay here!” The titan ordered the refugees, casting his Ward Of Dawn for a bit of added security. The shimmering dome enveloped the group and Bulwark grimaced beneath his helmet when he saw the terror etched on their faces. “Please. I promise you'll be safe.” He assured as firmly as he could. Unfortunately the nightmare of The Saint’s den still clung to the Eliksni, leading the refugees to stare upwards at the purple dome and hold tightly to one another.

The Exo sighed, unable to offer anything more comforting and almost wishing that he had honed his Light in a different way. Cabal slugs thundered against the shield wall as the titan reloaded his scout rifle, making the Eliksni chitter amongst themselves and cringe back behind him. 

“Don't worry.” Bulwark-26 said quietly. He then strode forward, taking with him the blessing of an overshield from his Ward. It was not overly advantageous for him to engage the Cabal head-on, but he had little choice in the matter. He could either hold the line here or fail. 

And he refused to fail again.

Bulwark had barely planted his scout rifle against a cement barricade and sank his first shot into a legionary’s skull when he heard a strange crackling noise. Fearing some sort of ambush, Bulwark jerked his weapon to the sky and got the shock of a lifetime. A titan was plummeting downwards from some unseen location, and in their hands was an enormous, flaming maul.

A Sunbreaker.

"Eyes up!" They shouted, landing on top of the platoon a moment later. The crater they made was sizable, as was the devastation the maul wreaked upon the remaining Cabal. Hot whirlwinds of embers and debris spiraled upwards, carrying with them the ashen remains of the phalanxes and legionaries.

Bulwark just tried to keep the terrified Eliksni from fleeing this new threat as his Ward dissipated, cursing the unknown titan under his breath for their overly-showy entrance. He prayed he wouldn't have to knock some sense into this Guardian as well after already having encountered previous resistance.

"Well!" The Sunbreaker said cheerily, hauling herself out of the divot she had created. "I suppose these are the refugees I've heard so much about?" She called to Bulwark. The Exo nodded warily. "Perfect! Sorry I'm late, got hung up a ways back. Few hunters and a warlock wanted to mix it up when they caught wind of my assignment." She dusted off her greaves and then removed her helmet, extending a hand to Bulwark in greeting.

The Exo felt like someone had just pulled the plug on him. "You." He breathed, the scout rifle falling from his grip to land in the dirt. It was her.

It was her. 

She offered him a blithe smile. "Yeah! Mithrax told you I was coming?"

Bulwark floundered momentarily, jerkily tilting forward to shake her hand. Guardians aren't supposed to investigate their past. "I'm B-Bul-Bulwark. Twenty-six. Bulwark-26." He stammered, crouching to pick up his weapon.

Her gaze grew distant, brown eyes focusing on a point far beyond the Exo. "Bulwark-26...huh. I feel like…" Her words drifted off and she shook her head, running a hand through shaggy brown hair. "Heh, sorry. I'm Delta! Just Delta."

"You don't remember me?" He didn't know why the hell he asked, of course she didn't remember! Most Guardians didn't recall who they had been before they became Guardians. They all came to the Light as equals no matter their status in their first life. Stupid! He scolded himself. He could feel Rex giving him the proverbial hairy eyeball, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the Ghost.

Delta's eyebrows knit together and for one disorienting moment, she looked exactly like the woman he had once known. Care-worn, face smudged with dirt, some deep worry furrowing her brow… "Now that you mention it, were you on that fireteam a few weeks back?” She asked, tapping her chin in thought. “Y'know, in the Cruci-”

"No." Bulwark cut her off brusquely. "Never mind. It's not important." The Crucible stirred up too many of those phantom memories for Bulwark-26 to venture into it casually. He could only assume he had been very good at what he did before his death. Though...clearly not that good. He had died, after all. "You're here to help me get these people to safety?"

"'Course!" Delta replied, seeming none the worse for the wear in spite of his rude interruption. She fastened her helmet to her hip right above her tattered titan mark and then beckoned his nervously-chittering charges. "C'mon guys, your paradise awaits."

…

He volunteered for a patrol detail in the Botza slums after the refugee skiff escorts had slowed. Several, in fact. So many that they eventually became routine. The Eliksni of House Light weren't a threat, but then again, they weren't the ones he had been concerned about to begin with.

Bulwark broke up multiple scuffles between the Eliksni and the Guardians or civilians that seemed to think they were doing the right thing by harassing and bullying his charges. Many refugees began to recognize the booming roar of Bulwark's voice even from a distance and they would come scampering to help remove their brethren from whatever conflict had arisen. The number of Guardians that Bulwark escorted out of the district by the scruff of their hoods, the hem of their robes or the seat of their marks bordered on obscene. That self-righteous glow of the Light would be the death of them all, and Bulwark's patience didn't last long past the beginning of his patrols. It was with a grim familiarity that he accepted the responsibility of keeping the refugees safe.

It was how his time had always been spent. 

Delta, the ghost of the past herself, would often sign on for patrols as well. Bulwark had to admit (if only to himself) that she was an excellent partner. Her Sunbreaker skills came in handy more than once against the solar shields of the Cabal that still wandered the far reaches of the City, she never made much in terms of unnecessary conversation, and she even offered to buy him a drink after their shifts. 

Bulwark wasn't quite sure why he continued to decline her invitations. 

He had never dared to try and get closer to her in her…first life, painfully aware of his mechanical form and the blessing-curse of being infinitely recycled. She isn't for you, he had told himself sternly time and again. She had deserved the chance at safety, at some form of normalcy with her own kind. There was also the added benefit of her not seeming to have any interest in him as well, her indifference lessening the depth of his emotions.

Now though, she was in the same boat as him. Gloriously expendable, eager to help, her eyes bright with the energy of a New Light. Yet Bulwark declined all the same, leaving her to drink alone with the sensation of something akin to self-loathing hanging heavy in his chest.

Bulwark reasoned privately that it felt a bit like cheating the system, to just assume to be close to someone because you had known them once before. People changed, and Guardians certainly changed. The Risen were clean slates, and from what he knew they only occasionally bore fleeting glimpses of their first lives. It was an unspoken rule that one didn't go looking for their past, as it only seemed to bring more questions.

She continued to hang around, though. Not pressing, just offering. Friendly. Normal, a smile on her face that warmed her once-sad eyes.

And he continued to be civil, and continued to turn down her offers.

…

"What happened?"

The Kell of House Light, Mithrax (known to his people as Misraakskel), sighed heavily enough to make his rebreather rattle before greeting the Exo. "Velask, Bulwark." Two of his hands continued to sift reverently through the wreckage of what had once been a Servitor. Overhead, the first few flakes of snow began to drift gently down, beginning to cover the ground in a thin blanket of white.

The titan jerked his head to the side, indicating his impatience. "Mithrax." The Sacred Splicer Kell had a tendency to sit on ceremony a little too much around Guardians, often waffling unless prompted.

Mithrax hesitated, the hiss of ether the only sound for a moment. "The people of your City...they have destroyed much of our ether processors." The large Eliksni raised a third hand to halt Bulwark's impending tirade. "They are still...uncertain of the Eliksni of House Light. They blame us for the Endless Night.” His hand gestured upwards to the darkened sky. It had been devoid of light over the Last City for many weeks while Mithrax and a few brave Guardians waged war on a different plane of reality. “It is a coincidence, but the timing of it is suspicious. I do not fault your people for being wary of us.”

"Uncertainty is one thing, but I'm not about to let your hatchlings starve because someone listened to the wrong Exo!" Bulwark retorted sharply. That may have been the wrong way to approach the subject; Mithrax audibly huffed at his words. The Exo attempted to soldier on, "Are there reserves somewhere? Can I...I don't know, secure a spot for a new Servitor? Something. I’ve seen too many refugees waste away to just sit on my hands and watch.”

Mithrax went silent and still; Bulwark could feel the Kell studying him intently. "If I do this," the Eliksni began after some time, "I will know immediately if you decide to betray us, Bulwark."

"I won't." The titan promised firmly. 

"Many strong words have been said easily. Do not offer us empty assurances." Mithrax warned. "I will know." He sighed again, and then continued, "Variks knows of our servitor stores on Europa. He can guide you to them. We have reserves, of course, and that will sustain us for the time being. I had hoped to build the stores a bit more before proceeding to transfer them, but it seems that our time has been shortened."

Variks, the Loyal. House Judgement's last holdout, once a denizen of the Reef. Bulwark nodded, going to depart. However, Mithrax stopped him before he could, three large digits gripping the titan's shoulder.

The Kell growled, "come out," his words infused with an unfamiliar gravity. It sent a chill down Bulwark's spine. That must be the commanding tone of the Eliksni authority, the Kelsvoice, the one that made The Spider quake in his proverbial boots.

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, just didn't want to interrupt." It was Delta, the woman emerging from behind a half-destroyed wall with her hands up. "I heard some weird transmissions earlier as I was signing on for my patrol and I saw some civilians skulking by the edge of the district, probably because of frickin’ Lakshmi, so I wanted to…" She trailed off, obviously noticing the destroyed Servitors. "Oh no, Mithrax." 

The Kell sagged visibly, releasing Bulwark. "It will be alright, Delta. Bulwark has offered to assist us."

Bulwark hesitated, glancing at Delta. The other titan raised her eyebrow in query, immediately offering, "You want a partner?" Instead of deciding for himself, the Exo looked to Mithrax. It was only fair for the Kell to have the last word; his people were on the line. 

Mithrax seemed to ponder, then nodded slowly. "This is acceptable. House Light trusts the two of you. Can you recommend any replacements for patrols while you will be absent?"

Delta snapped her fingers. "Don't you fret, big M! I've got just the gang for you."

The Eliksni tilted his head. "Big...M."

...

"No place like home for the Dawning, eh Bull?" Delta yelled over the howling winds. 

"Technically, yes." Bulwark grunted, continuing to trudge forward to the Charon's Crossing outpost that Variks had claimed as his own upon his arrival to Europa. "I do not recall it, however."

Up a slight rise the two trekked, the driving wind threatening to rip them off their feet and fling them into the yawning chasm alongside the path. Bulwark-26 grimaced, squinting on reflex even though his helmet was keeping the snow out of his face. The outpost seemed to materialize from the blizzard, invisible one moment and then reappearing the next like some frigid mirage. 

“Hey Bull! You ever read any Lovecraft?” Delta called from behind him, her voice a little strained. When the Exo turned, though, she wasn't facing him. Instead, she was looking backwards, towards the black form of the Ziggurat. The horizon was clear in that direction and he could plainly see the sharp edge of the esoteric structure's highest tip scraping the sky.

“I don't believe so, no.” Bulwark answered slowly, confused at this turn of conversation.

“Don't. Save your sanity.” With that frankly baffling tangent obviously over, Delta turned to face him once more. “Let's get a move on!”

The large Exo clicked his mouthplates together, annoyed, but moved doggedly onward to the outpost. It was incredible just how much the building did to deflect the wind and snow, the overhang by the front entrance alone reducing the howling to a dull whistle.

"Hell of a way to spend the holidays." Delta griped, stomping her plasteel sabatons on the ground to keep warm while Bulwark fought with the outpost bulkhead. "The wind cuts right through my armor! You feel it too, right?"

"Yes." He continued to push and pull at the door, finally managing to turn the lock and unlatch the heavy thermal plating. His mind turned to Titan at the familiar sensation, the constant hiss of air from the pressurized bays, bulkheads opening and closing over and over, Hive build-up thick on every surface–not now. "Variks?" He called, rapping on the outside of the door with the back of his gauntlet. He noted wryly that Delta had cupped a fusion grenade in her hands, cradling it close in an effort to stay warm. “Put that away, you'll give the old man a heart attack.” He muttered, making the woman snicker and chuck the cooking explosive over her shoulder, sending it sailing into the rift below the station.

Out of the dim interior of the building there was an insectoid clicking, and it was with great caution that the scribe of House Judgement emerged from the shadows to greet the two. "Velask, friends. Misraakskel has sent you, yes?" He questioned narrowly, one of his remaining hands resting on the butt of his pistol. 

"Velask, Variks! Who else but us?" Delta said with a smile, opening her arms wide to indicate she was unarmed as she bowed. Granted, with the Light there were very few ways to truly unarm a Guardian, but Variks seemed to appreciate the gesture. Bulwark observed the shift in his posture to something a little less…ready, and did the old scribe the favor of mimicking said posture. "You staying warm, Variks?" The female titan continued, the concern in her tone surprising.

The Eliksni shook his head, murmuring, "Variks regrets to inform the Guardian that he is, in fact, not very warm at all. With all the House Salvation Eliksni on Europa, food and warmth are scarce."

"Good news, then." Delta tugged a small package out of her hip pouch and extended it. "Dawning greetings to you!"

"Dawning...Variks remembers Dawning, yes. Many Guardians bringing treats to their allies. It is good to be the friend of a Guardian, yes?" Variks accepted the box after looking at it for several moments, and he quickly opened it up. "Coldsnaps, yes? Very good, very good. Variks sees that House Light has been sharing with the Guardians."

"Eido's work keeps us educated." 

After spending so much time around the Eliksni, Bulwark realized that he had picked up on a few of the nuances in regards to their expressions. Variks clicked meditatively at Delta's reply, his eyes slanting downwards. “But not enough to keep ills from happening, yes?” The scribe hummed, his tone brimming with polite hostility.

“Don't worry about that. Bull and I will deal with the clowns that keep creeping back into Botza.” Delta asserted confidently. “They're young and dumb, probably just scared. Lakshmi talks a great game.”

Variks’ eyes shrank to irritated slits in his weathered face, that insectoid chittering filling the silence for a moment. Clearly there was no love lost between the Future War Cult and Variks of House Judgement. “Variks hopes so, for the sake of your people and his own, yes. Variks believes we need not repeat the past.” He leaned heavily on his scribe staff, the wind seeming to have gone out of his sails. “It will take time to secure the Servitors. They are hidden, yes, very safe. Many hours,” he warned, “Misraakskel knows. Very safe, but very far.”

“Where? We can-” Delta was cut off by a sharp gesture from one of Variks’ arms.

“No!” The former scribe barked, and Bulwark got another fleeting glimpse of the deep fear that so obviously plagued the Eliksni. Even after all of their help, after everything they had done to strengthen the bonds of this particular fellowship, some wounds just couldn't be mended so simply. “Eliksni will bring them here, yes. Five Servitors.” Variks continued calmly, as if to smooth things over. 

To her credit Delta just stepped aside so Variks could use his comms system to hail whatever clandestine parties he had available. The woman fiddled with her gauntlets momentarily, then tipped her head to aim the curved viewport of her helmet at Bulwark. “We should go and pick up some patrols. Thin the herd a little and stir things up so our friends can get their job done easier.” She suggested.

Bulwark nodded in agreement, offering Variks a belated and stiff bow. “May the Light provide.”

“For you as well, friends.” Variks waved half of a coldsnap in their general direction, the chain veil covering his mouth jangling softly with the movement.

The duo of titans departed, Delta leading the way with steps that were not-quite stomps. Bulwark simply waited patiently, taking the brief moment of silence to check over his gear. Predictably, it wasn't long at all before Delta spoke again. “Man, no matter how many times I talk to Eido I always put my foot in my mouth when it comes to Variks.” She said unhappily. “I don't think he likes me.”

“We are titans.” Bulwark-26 pointed out bluntly. “It's an uphill battle for us in regards to the Eliksni. Saint-14 is doing his best, but we can't expect miracles. I don't blame them for thinking what they do about us. A lot of hatchlings were raised hearing stories about the Saint, after all.”

“Yeah, and definitely not good stories either.” Delta agreed, her tone glum. “I wish there was some way to make things easier for…I dunno’, everyone involved.” She kicked a snowdrift, clearly frustrated.

“Mithrax trusted us to bring the Servitors to safety. That's a pretty big step.” The Exo gave her a pat on the shoulder which she comically staggered from. His laugh was, as ever, a strange approximation of synthetic sound. “Have patience. We have all the time we need, New Light.”

Delta scoffed at the nickname. “I'm not even new anymore! It's been years, when are people gonna’ stop-”

“Never.”

…

The Eventide Ruins were much less ‘welcoming’ than Charon's Crossing, but at least there was more cover. Without saying a word to one another, the two titans immediately set into the work of being a distraction. Patrol beacon after patrol beacon was pinged and subsequently completed, objectives accomplished and targets annihilated. They worked together in near silence, both used to how the other operated after their rounds in Botza. Bulwark told himself he was just staying close to Delta because she radiated heat, the woman absently tossing her smaller solar hammer back and forth from hand to hand when they weren't actively engaging the opposition. It had nothing to do with the creeping sensation of familiarity that he desperately attempted to ignore every single time he came to Europa, and it definitely had nothing to do with his rapidly-blooming feelings for the woman.

Who she had been before and who she was now…it felt like a betrayal to even think it, but Bulwark-26 preferred her now. She just seemed more confident and sure of herself, which he supposed came with the Light. It was easy to be confident when you felt untouchable.

Like Cayde. 

Bulwark shook his head, draping the belt of ammunition over his arm while he reloaded his heavy machine gun. “You fired six bullets.” Delta snarked at him, making the Exo smile beneath his horned helmet.

“That's six less I would have in the chamber the next time these House Salvation punks want to come at us.”

Delta hummed noncommittally and Bulwark heard her stifle a yawn a moment later. The sound reminded him of how worn he was as well; they had been running and gunning for hours without stopping. He had been so eager to help that he hadn't registered the faint weariness tugging at his limbs. And if he was tired…

“Bull, I gotta’ rest soon. I'm dead on my feet.” Delta's admission was all Bulwark needed to justify his own desire for a halt, the Exo quickly agreeing with her. 

“As soon as we find a defensible position.” Bulwark noted with concern that Delta's armored boots were now melting the snow around her feet with every step she took. She was obviously having more difficulty regulating the Light in her body, another unfortunate side effect of her ignoring her limits. “Delta,” he began.

“I'm fine.” She cut him off. “I've dealt with worse than this. I did have to make it to the Last City alone, y'know.”

You were on the outskirts of the City when your building collapsed, it wasn't exactly a long walk! Bulwark bit his proverbial tongue, setting his jaw against the words that wanted to erupt out of him. It would be needlessly cruel to tell her how she had expired. She must have been terrified, pinned beneath thousands of pounds of rubble before she eventually succumbed. 

To think of her trapped in the pitch-black, wounded, waiting for help that would never come while the Cabal gunned down survivors…

Bulwark's throat ached. 

“Understood.” He said instead, defaulting to a mechanical response. It was less messy that way, less…emotional.

Delta turned her helm far enough to the side that he knew she must be able to see him, but she offered no further conversation. The chill in the air between them had nothing to do with the temperature.

They were making their way across a broad open expanse of snowfield when something suddenly struck the side of Bulwark's helmet with enough force to topple him, his auditory sensors ringing from the deafening noise of air bursting out of the cracks in his helm. The Exo clawed frantically at the snow in an effort to regain his footing, feeling more than hearing the shrapnel launcher blow apart the ice inches from his head. The radiation of Europa rushed into his broken gear, sour wind tearing through the framework of his jaw and writhing down into his lungs.

His fist met the ice and a barricade half-formed, shimmering glassily into being. Bulwark couldn’t maintain his focus long enough to entirely solidify the structure, but it was something-

A familiar sabaton crashed to the ground next to his forehead, the plasteel now red-hot and glowing. He was abruptly warm, so warm, bathed in a radiant light like Sol's sun. He dared to look up, finding Delta standing over his body, her stance broadened to account for the width of his shoulders. In her hands resided her enormous Devastator Maul, the heat of the thing making the air around it bend and sway. 

Far enough that they hadn't noticed in the poor visibility conditions, but near enough that it could easily take potshots at the duo, the enormous Fallen raised its shrapnel launcher once again, its roar echoing across the ice. 

Delta batted the largest projectile away with her maul, the woman taking a labored step forward. Ice at her feet immediately liquefied, causing her to sink slightly into the ground. She grunted in annoyance, then tilted forward and broke into a loping sprint. The maul sang a hissing dirge as she ran, the woman using her momentum to smash through the support struts on the small deck the Fallen stood upon. After that, she quickly adjusted her grip on the maul and swung violently upwards to unmoor the platform from the cliffside, sending a fiery shower of sparks whirling as she did.

The deck began to slide down the side of the glacial abyss, leaving the large Fallen to scrabble desperately at the glassy edge of the cliff before the entire platform tumbled into the unknown. 

Rex darted around Bulwark's head, the Ghost working quickly to reconstruct the shattered metal and plasteel that graced the Exo's face before he suffocated in the radioactive atmosphere. Bulwark just watched Delta's back, stunned silent. The woman's shoulders were hunched, fists clenched tightly at her sides after the maul fizzled out. She looked half-ready to jump into the fissure after the Archon-sized Fallen.

The Exo swallowed even though his frame had no need to do so, raising his voice after a moment. “Delta?” He called, still a little dazed. When his eyes finally refocused Delta was standing over him again, that impassive helm unreadable as she offered him a hand.

“I need to rest.” She stated flatly once he was upright. No longer was there any sort of levity in her tone; she sounded utterly defeated.

Bulwark clasped her arm instead of replying, his nod all the answer he could give. For some unknown, immensely frustrating reason, his voice refused to cooperate. Delta slumped forward against his shoulder momentarily, her helmet clattering into his pauldron. His arms raised in a stilted attempt to embrace her, but then he hesitated. What if she-

Delta's fingers rasped against the armor on the small of his back, the woman taking the initiative to hug him tightly. Bulwark felt like his sigh was crushed out of him, his own gauntlets finding purchase on her back. “I'm alright,” he soothed, the modulation of his voice burring oddly. Radiation must have fried my voiceprint. “Didn't mean to worry you.”

“I wasn't.” She insisted stiffly, still clinging to him.

“Right, of course.” Bulwark raised his head, squinting off into the distance. “Let's make our way to that building. We can sweep it and then get a few hours of shut-eye.”

She released him, and Bulwark wondered at her seeming reluctant to do so.

…

A few hours of rest, he told himself. Their Ghosts could alert them to any activity. Just a few hours.

Bulwark sat down heavily once Delta melted through the ice coating the floor, unrolling his bedroll with a quick snap of ultralight nylon. He then draped the orange and navy fabric around his shoulders, attempting to warm it up a bit before he climbed in. With a flash of humor he noted that Delta's sleeping bag had a few singed holes in it. “Hot sleeper, eh?” The Exo teased, smiling when Delta huffed and flapped a hand at him.

“You wanna’ be warm or not?” She retorted, her trusty grenade crackling between her fingertips while she forced the large bulkhead door closed. The air scrubber rattled to life after the environment was sealed, vents creaking as they warmed from use.

Bulwark-26 laughed, bowing his head as he conceded to her point. “Fair enough, fair enough.” In the gloom of the room via the glow of his own orange optics he could barely see her groping forward, the woman finally crouching to rifle through the pouches on her discarded utility belt. A small folding lantern flickered on, momentarily blinding the Exo.

“You hungry?” She asked, not waiting for a reply before tossing him a ration bar which landed in his lap. It threatened to taste like meat and cheese, ‘made with five percent beef and real dairy!’ Bulwark snorted, but thanked Delta all the same and cautiously removed his helmet. Food was food, after all.

“I've got some freeze-dried fruit.” He offered once the two of them had verified the air was safe and started gnawing at the ration bars. “If you want dessert and your jaw isn't worn out, of course.”

Delta's eyes lit up. “Hell yeah, thanks Bull.” Her Ghost (a paranoid little cube named Sinclair) actually made a rare appearance, hovering beside her head for a second or two while she instructed him to keep watch with Rex.

The two Ghosts departed, reluctantly leaving their Guardians alone. Oddly, once the Ghosts had made their exit, Delta seemed to grow tense. 

Bulwark watched as her shoulders tightened into a rigid line while she slowly worked her way through a crunchy, freeze-dried strawberry, the woman sitting in the least-relaxed position he’d ever seen. Even her empty left hand hanging over her knee was balled into a nervous fist. 

When Bulwark glanced at her face, the woman was studying him. “Hey, Bull, I…can I ask a question?” Her voice squeaked a little, devoid of its usual confidence. The Exo inclined his head, struck with an immediate sense of dread at the way her expression twisted. “Do you–er, that is, do Exo…c-can you guys have–” Delta paused, her face reddening while her hands fluttered helplessly. 

Bulwark blinked. The momentary shuttering of his optics wasn't required for survival, but it was something Exos did anyway. Like eating, and sleeping, and…

Oh.

“Intercourse?” He supplied bluntly. 

Delta reacted like he'd just uttered some sort of unspeakable word, the woman making an odd noise in her throat and frantically gesturing at him. “W-Well, yeah, I guess!” She finally exclaimed, her cheeks still flaming red.

“We can.” Bulwark didn't understand why she was behaving so strangely. Reproduction was normal for humans, and Exo were human previously. “Many Exo partake in the act, even if it doesn't bear fruit.” 

Delta was coughing now, the female titan rushing to slosh some water into her mouth to quell the spasm. A weak, “ah,” was all she eventually managed to wheeze out, however.

“Why?” Bulwark pressed, curious. 

“W-Well I–I was just wondering, I guess, I uh, I hope that's not offensive to…shit, I should have thought of that beforehand.” Delta half-hissed, as if to herself, then said, “I'm sorry, I promise I'm not trying to be rude!”

“You're alright.” Mildly amused, Bulwark decided to push a little more. “I take it this has been on your mind?”

Delta huffed out a breath, looking away. “Lima mentioned some things to me about how her…about how she works.”

Bulwark-26 barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Lima-4 the warlock was strong, funny and reliable, but she was also an incorrigible flirt and tended to overshare. “So you wanted to ask about different models?”

“Y-Yeah.” The woman's gaze was locked on her knees. Bulwark wished for a fleeting instant that she would look at him again. “I'm really sorry, Bull.”

“I said it's alright,” he chuckled, “don't worry about it. I'm happy to answer any questions you've got.” It's not as if you were concerned about it the first time around. The thought caught him off guard, but Delta was now leaning forward, her brown eyes intent on his face. A tremor ran through his frame and Bulwark forced himself not to clear his throat in order to break the silence. Another unnecessary tic left over from who he had once been. “So ask.” He grunted after several seconds of her examining him. 

“How does it…how does everything work, exactly? Like is it a pump system, do you have multiple attachments…?” 

Bulwark couldn't help the little snort he let out. An involuntary response to humor; the habit was a bad one. “Some frames use attachments, yes. We all have the potential for change, if we are unhappy with our original settings and concerned about possibly triggering DER.” He then shrugged. “I'm not an expert on how it all actually functions, of course. You'd have to ask the Head.” He didn't like saying ‘Clovis Bray’ aloud. The name filled him with an anxiety that bordered on superstition, which he knew was foolish. 

Delta rubbed her upper arms, warding off the chill. “That's wild. I guess you wouldn't know though, would you? That'd be like expecting me to be a neurosurgeon or something just because I'm human.”

Relieved, the Exo nodded in agreement. 

“Have you ever slept with a human, then? Or an Awoken? Are they–l-like…” She was visibly struggling now, her brow furrowed. “Compatible with you?”

Bulwark was a little stunned at this abrupt and personal turn of conversation, but he answered as best as he could. “T-They are compatible, yes.” Internally, he cursed his stutter. It wasn't due to nerves, of course. Rex must not have fixed his voiceprint properly, that's all.

Delta's thumb landed on her lower lip, the woman's teeth worrying the skin momentarily. Bulwark prided himself on his restraint, impassively watching her thumb indent the soft surface of her lower lip and absolutely not wondering about how his metallic jaw might raise goosebumps on her skin. Definitely not.

He didn't think about things like that.

“Have you?” Delta's query was soft. He almost hoped he had imagined it. 

“Yes.” Bulwark kept it short. To the point. An answer without any added fat, enough to satisfy but only just. He should have known she would be hungry for more. 

“Did you…did you like it?” It was unfair really, that she could sound so shy while prying so deeply.

“Yes.” Bulwark paused, setting his jaw. “Have you?” 

Delta bit her lip, shaking her head. “You think I'd be asking all this if I had?” She laughed, seeming a little sheepish. “Nah, never had the chance to try with an Exo. Being a New Light keeps you busy!”

Bulwark-26 had to agree with that, remembering all too well his months of defending the wandering refugee band.

And her.

“That's why I like you, Bull. You'll at least let me take a damn break every once in a while.” Delta ticked a finger downwards at her sleeping bag. “You don't treat me like I'm some sort of unstoppable freak of nature.”

“I don't expect humans or Awoken to be able to ignore their limitations like I can.” Bulwark leaned his head back against the wall, staring dully upwards at the frozen ceiling. “I am, after all, designed to overcome the frailty of a flesh and blood body.”

“But even you get tired, don't you?”

“It takes…” The Exo hummed low in his throat, an unnecessary processing delay. “...it takes much more strain to exhaust me.”

“Interesting.” She sounded a little faint. “Well, I'd uh, I'd better get to bed. After all, we don't know when we'll be called, right?” With that, Delta quickly shuffled down further in her sleeping bag, the woman hooking the top of it over her head and effectively ending the conversation.

Bulwark couldn't help a brief smile at the sight of her wriggling worm-like in the bedroll, the Exo soon following suit. The floor was cold even through his sleeping bag, making the male titan grunt in annoyance and then shift his weight onto his back. He could see the faint reflection of his optics on the ceiling, the light dimming while his mind wandered aimlessly. 

She didn't care, back then…

He must have drifted off, because the next thing he knew he was blinking sleepily up at the ceiling once more. A repetitive noise had roused him, a quiet and continuous rustling of nylon fabric. Punctuating that, however, was a sharper clattering sound. Bulwark wracked his mind, trying to recall what the noise was. 

“Delta?” He finally spoke up. The clattering paused. 

“W-W-W-What, Bull?” The woman mumbled drowsily. 

She was shivering, her teeth chattering. That was what he had been hearing; she must have been doing it in her sleep.

She's going to freeze. As ludicrous as the concern was (she was a Guardian), once it grabbed hold of him he couldn't seem to shake it. Torn between offering to share body heat and just rolling over and trying to go back to sleep, his sense of empathy naturally won out. "Bring your sleeping bag over here." Bulwark grumbled, making a curt gesture. Delta obliged slowly, shuffling across the floor in her bag on her knees and then dropping down alongside him.

"I'm fuckin' freezing." She admitted with a shuddering yawn. 

Bulwark jerked open his sleeping bag, entirely forgoing his painstaking stoicism in favor of wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "Why didn't you say anything?" Damn it, woman.

"Didn't want you thinking I was helpless, one of Shaw's little blueberries. I'm pretty good at taking care of myself, just more used to the temperate climates." Delta yawned again, snuggling down into his grip. “An’ I'm too tired to use the Light…t'warm up…”

She still continued to tremble uncontrollably, making the Exo frown. He carefully tucked the other end of his bedroll beneath her and then pressed himself even closer in an effort to warm her. Being an Exo, he could adjust his body's temperature independently to some extent. After all, what use was a killing machine that might freeze or overheat?

Delta's tremors finally eased a few moments later, and the woman groaned and stretched. “Ugh, I hate how tight shivering makes my shoulders.” She complained, turning over and burying her face in Bulwark's chest. “Remind me to pack my warm pajamas next time.” Bulwark froze at the sensation of her breath on his neck, the Exo's fingers momentarily digging into her sleeping bag before he could force them to relax. Delta wriggled in his hold, the woman arching her back against the pressure and then sighing, “mmm, that's nice. Thanks Bull.”

Bulwark didn't trust his voice, certain that it would make some sort of odd, squeaky sound if he attempted to respond, so he just nodded, his chin tapping against her forehead.

“Hey, Bull?” The female titan murmured. He could feel her lips moving against his neck when she spoke, and it was as if every faux nerve in his body focused down on that one spot. The Exo made some noncommittal noise in reply, barely a grunt. “I don't know how much more forward I can be here.”

It took a moment for her wry tone and verbiage to penetrate the haze of sensation he was battling with, but Bulwark's orange eyes eventually rolled downwards, the Exo studying the crown of her head. 

“Like really, I don't know.” Delta mumbled, her fingers digging into his thermal shirt. “Do you not like me? Should I back off?”

Bulwark closed his eyes, praying to the Traveler or whatever else might be listening for patience. “I like you.” He admitted.

“Okay, so…?” Delta trailed off, the woman obviously waiting for him to elaborate. 

Bulwark crushed the heel of his hand against the corner of his right optic socket, the dull pressure grounding him somewhat and urging him to stop running. “I…knew you. Before.” The confession was painfully soft, but at least now it was started. He heard her gasp. “You were a refugee. We never even exchanged names, but we traveled in the same group for…a very long time.”

“I remembered the pine trees.” Delta said, her voice shaking. “Pine trees and then there was this…purple dome. It was you.”

“Yes.”

She asked, “why didn't you say anything?!”, her fists resting on his chest while she pushed herself back so she could see his face.

The truth. “Guardians aren't supposed to go looking for their past, and,” he hesitated, avoiding her inquisitive eyes, “and…I was afraid.”

“Of what?” 

Without thinking he replied, “Of you.” Then, frantically, “Of you being different! O-Or you not feeling anything for me, or-”

“Bull.” Delta cut him off, her forehead pressed against his own. “Are you kidding me?”

“I assure you, I've said nothing close to a damn joke while I've been talking.” The Exo half-snarled, his hackles raised from a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. “I didn't want to ask. Ever. As an Exo, I…can't give people certain things. I couldn't promise you anything,” Bulwark's voice faltered into a mutter, “and it didn't even seem like you wanted anything from me the first time around. I figured I should just let it be instead of muddying the waters-”

Delta kissed him, so hard that Bulwark could feel her lips crumple slightly when she pressed them to his mouth. “I want you.” The woman gasped once she pulled away. “I want you. Please.”

His heart was trying to erupt out of his chest, the synthetic organ hammering at his metalloid ribs. Bulwark's hands clenched into fists without his input. “Please, Delta, I-” Don't do this to me. Don't let me hope. “If you want me like you say you do, I'm never letting you go again.” The titan said fiercely. “Please understand that I take this very, very seriously.”

“As opposed to how lightly you take everything else.” Delta retorted dryly, her expression slowly softening while she looked at him. “I understand, Bull. Not like–everything. But I do understand. It's okay.”

Bulwark's fingers were trembling when he carded them through her shaggy brown locks. The woman tipped her head, leaning into his touch with a quiet sigh. “I can't do this halfway.” Bulwark warned, feeling like he was begging. Tell me to stop. Don't let me do this to you. “If I…”

“I want you to fuck me.” Delta interrupted him bluntly. “I've wanted you to fuck me since I first met you in Botza.”

“That long?!” Bulwark asked, flabbergasted when she nodded. A bashful chuckle accompanied the motion, the woman still seeming a bit embarrassed despite her straightforward words. “You could have said something!”

“You didn't seem like you were interested! I didn't want to be pushy. I figured you probably got a lot of unwanted attention from New Lights anyway.” Delta reasoned, raising an eyebrow. “You did patrol the city limits most of the time. You were basically like the welcoming committee.”

Bulwark thought about it, bewildered to realize that it was, in fact, true. He had led so many Eliksni through the rubble of Botza, he had nearly forgotten about the fresh Guardians that kept popping up as he went. “I was more like the unwelcoming committee,” he mused ruefully. “At least all it would take is one kick to the teeth and they would come back a little more contrite. I don't recall any of them viewing me overly fondly.”

“Well, that's not what I heard.” Delta insisted, “I heard you were very popular with the blueberries. The Pronghorn Titan who roams the borders, rescuing stragglers as he goes.” 

“And who told you that? Lima-4?”

“Alright, alright, point taken.” Her mouth was suddenly on his neck, teeth clicking against the plating there. Bulwark shuddered, uncertain of how to respond. It had been…

Well, it had been a very long time since he had indulged like this. “What do you like?” He breathed. Delta nudged him onto his back, the woman straddling his hips after a moment. She shifted her weight, staring up at the ceiling as she did. Bulwark blinked, confused when she swore under her breath. 

“Well this won't be comfortable. Your hips are too broad.” Delta finally complained, stretching her left leg out. “I'll cramp in two minutes flat! Give me a second Bull, I can come up with something else.”

“My everything is broad, I don't know if-”

“Got it!” Delta got up off of him, hauling at his arm until he rolled over. “Like this, yeah?” She instructed, propping him up onto his forearms so she could pantomime getting beneath him. “And then I'll be on the ground!”

“On your stomach or back?” Bulwark grimaced uncertainly. “That's where all your vital organs are, though. What if you get too cold, pressed against the floor?”

“I will live with the consequences of my actions.” With that grand statement, Delta began to tug down her thermal pants. “I'll be on my stomach then, that way I can basically leave these on!” 

Bulwark exhaled, a bit thrown off by how excited she seemed. Surely she couldn't be that interested in him? “Alright, but we need to make sure you're warmed up at least.” He insisted. 

“Sinclair can just repair whatever happens.” Delta's reply was so blasé the Exo had to catch the wall for stability. 

“What the hell do you think I'm going to do to you?!” He snapped, but then felt his fingers dent the metal framework he had latched onto. Shit. “I'm going to do my best to not…hurt you.”

“Oh, likewise! But accidents happen, I know.” Delta shrugged with a little grin. “Sometimes things get away from us, and I can be pretty impatient.” As if to prove that point, the woman spread her legs as best as she could with her thermal layer still bunched up at her knees. Strands of wet arousal laced back and forth at the apex of her thighs, a few of them snapping under the burden of their own weight. “I want you, Bull. And I don't want to wait anymore.”

I want you.

The Exo dropped to his knees in front of her, hesitating for a split second before shoving his right arm and shoulder in between her legs to open her up even wider. The thermal pants flopped down around her ankles, then stretched taut across Bulwark's back. 

Delta yelped, doing her best to balance on one foot with her other one hooked over Bulwark's shoulder. “Bull!” She exclaimed, clinging to his shoulders. Bulwark's hands came up, gripping the backs of her thighs and steadying her. The Exo, already half-feral from the length of time he had spent trying not to think about this, burred loudly in his throat and then struggled to shove his mouth clumsily against her cunt. He had no nose, so the task was a bit more difficult than it should have been, but after he shifted his posture and nearly took her other leg off the ground in the process, he managed to open her up wide enough for him to press his mouth against her.

Delta whined out, her fingers slipping helplessly across the smooth metal of his head. Bulwark gently began to work on her clit, worrying and teasing the bud by capturing it between the warm plates of his lipless mouth. Overhead, he heard Delta make some odd noise and then she was quivering with every touch, her noises intensifying when the Exo sought out her entrance with one of his fingers. She was wet enough that his digit slid in without resistance, so he swiftly followed it with a second. Unyielding metal thrust upwards and then curled, causing Delta to whimper and jerk her hips forwards. 

“You're shaking,” Bulwark mumbled through half a mouthful, tilting his head so he could glance upwards at her.

“Of–Of course I am!” She panted, her face flushed. “Bull, you're-”

Bulwark hummed against her clit, startling another, much louder cry out of the woman. He then fastened his mouth down, tugging and rubbing as best as he could. All the while his fingers worked inside her, spreading her wide to make what came next a bit more manageable. “Do you want me, Delta?” He asked softly, his free hand shifting down to his groin in order to slide the plating on his pelvis to the side. Bulwark didn't often take himself in hand, so the feeling of his fingers wrapping around his cock was more than enough to have him groaning. 

Delta didn't give him much time to think about it, the woman abruptly grabbing the back of his head and crushing his mouth against her cunt. Bulwark, thoroughly dazed, obediently did as he was instructed, the Exo relishing the sensation of her fingernails digging into the back of his head even as her thighs attempted to close down on him. She had devolved into chanting his name, her back arching helplessly against the wall while she rocked herself down onto his waiting mouth and fingers. 

When she came, it was preceded by a burst of heat and light. Bulwark flinched, originally startled, but he then felt her throbbing around his fingers and he realized what had happened. “Easy,” he soothed, stroking her trembling thigh. “Easy, it's alright, turn it down. You're safe with me.” Delta sobbed out overhead, the sound gut-wrenching, and Bulwark felt a few tears hit his cheek. “It's alright, shhh, you're safe.” He continued to murmur quietly, easing her down so she could collapse on their sleeping bags. She was shaking wildly, her eyes wide and full of tears as she stared up at him. Bulwark hushed her again, smoothing her tears away with his thumb.

“Wh-What happened?” She finally hiccupped, her eyes closing when the Exo ran his hand over her forehead to push her sweaty hair out of her eyes. “I…that's never happened before, holy shit.”

“There's always work to do. Sometimes you just-” Bulwark shrugged, “-build up a backlog, I guess. How do you feel? Do you want some water?”

“Y-Yeah.” The woman gratefully accepted the canteen he passed her, and Bulwark heard the condensator begin to rev as she drained the remaining contents. “You're incredible, Bull.” Delta panted, wiping her mouth. “Let's keep going.”

“I…” Bulwark frowned, skeptical. “Are you sure? We can stop.”

“No way!” Delta protested, grabbing his arm. “Please, I swear I'm fine. Please.”

The urgency in her tone struck the Exo crosswise, sending a shiver down his spine to curl hotly in his groin. “If you're sure.” He was mildly entertained by the way her eyes kept darting to his cock, like she wanted to look fully but was too embarrassed to do so. “See?” The Exo rested his dick in his palm, effectively giving her permission to stare. Which she did.

Intently. 

“How does it feel?” Delta asked, sounding a little nervous. 

“Touch it and find out.” 

“Is that…okay?” She was reaching out even as she spoke, so Bulwark just nodded in reply. “How should I…I mean, just like normal or-?”

“Yes.”

Delta ran a finger down the length of his cock after he had tugged his pants down to his thighs, making the Exo bite back a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, it's warm! I don't know why I thought it would be cold.” She grazed the side of his groin plating, examining his pelvis with obvious curiosity. Bulwark grunted, every touch making him want to buck and writhe against her hands, but the large Exo managed to keep himself under control. “You're pretty big, so I guess it makes sense that your…er, that your hardware is big too.” The woman seemed like she was thinking out loud, wrapping her fingers around his cock to give him a firm stroke. 

Bulwark couldn't stop the sound he made then, his hips jolting forward. Delta huffed out a breath, her eyes widening slightly. “Delta, I…I would like to continue.” The Exo tried to keep his tone level, the task made extremely difficult by the way Delta was moving her hand. “Soon, if possible.”

As if waking from sleep the woman blinked up at him, nodding so rapidly he was worried her neck would give way. “Yeah, absolutely!” The female titan then rushed to roll onto her stomach, wriggling her hips upwards as if to entice him. Bulwark shifted his weight, straddling her body and then craning his neck to kiss her. Delta crooned into his mouth, her rear pressed firmly to his pelvis. “Please Bull, please.” She begged softly.

Bulwark slid his pants down further, fumbling with them for a moment before resigning himself to stripping them off entirely. The Exo titan tugged the sleeping bag up and over the two of them, his cock slotting in between Delta's thighs as he moved. Delta's breath hitched, the woman slipping a hand down to palm him and give him a few lazy strokes. Bulwark grunted, feeling his dick prod her cunt with every motion. “Ready?” He asked, his jaw set to keep him from making any excessive noise.

“Mmhm,” Delta murmured dreamily, her fingers tangling in the bedroll beneath her as Bulwark tugged her hips up slightly and pressed the head of his cock in. “Oh,” the woman moaned, the sound stretching until it broke as Bulwark fully buried himself in her body. “Bull, ah-” 

The Exo wasn't doing much better than her, all things considered. Locking his jaw had helped somewhat, but he could hear the roar of his breath through the framework of his face and that didn't exactly cut down on the noise. He forced himself to remain still, giving the woman time to actually adjust to his size. Delta wasn't making it easy however, gasping into the sleeping bag and bucking herself backwards in an effort to get him to move. Bulwark finally latched onto her hip with one hand, preventing her from moving. “I will fuck you once I think you're ready.” The Exo seethed in her ear, “take a damn second and breathe.” 

Delta slumped down fully prone on the bedroll, the woman whimpering but obediently going still in anticipation. Bulwark could feel her walls throbbing around him, the Exo broadening his stance and then rocking his hips forward until his pelvis met her rear with a dull slap of skin and metal. Delta's knees slid across the sleeping bag for a moment before she managed to slightly raise her hips, giving Bulwark a better angle. Grateful, the Exo tucked an arm beneath her hips to prop her up. Delta cried out at the sudden adjustment and Bulwark hooked his hand down over her pubic mound, bracing his forearm on the floor while his fingers found her clit once more. 

“Bull!” 

“Shh,” Bulwark grunted, “you're going to make our Ghosts think something is wrong.” Delta's cries became low, stifled groans, the woman burying her face in the bedroll as Bulwark rolled his hips. “Delta, you feel so damn good.” The Exo growled in her ear, chuckling when she writhed against him. His index finger grazed her clit and he relished the way her body jumped in reply, tremors racing down her thighs. “Love how you respond to me,” he continued, his voice burring in his throat. “I'm glad you're enjoying this.”

“Bull…” Delta gasped, her hand wrapping around his wrist so she could move his fingers the way she needed them. “Fuck, Bull, I'm going to-” 

“I know, Delta.” Bulwark soothed, “let go, I've got you.” He sheathed his cock in her welcoming pussy, feeling a rush of heat and liquid that began to slowly drip down his inner thigh plating. “Good girl,” he praised her breathlessly, stroking her hair as she quaked and spasmed beneath him. “Come for me, Delta.”

The woman collapsed on the sleeping bag, moaning out his name when Bulwark propped himself up and rutted down into her. All the guilt, all the shame at what he had considered misplaced feelings, all the worry over what she thought of him, thought of his weakness…he couldn't even think about it for once, his mind wholly, gloriously blank except for her name. He realized in a daze that he was repeating it over and over under his breath as he fucked her, the sound forcing itself out through his locked jaw. 

Gods she was so wet, so warm, like she was made for his sensation-starved body. She raised her hips up in an effort to give him that better angle once more, but Bulwark pressed a hand to the small of her back, silently telling her to relax. This was more than enough for him. Getting to experience this closeness, this vulnerability…it was more than enough.

“I-” Bulwark hesitated, his words failing. He covered her with his body, threading his arms beneath her stomach to secure her in the apex of his thighs so he could slowly, leisurely rock down into her. The Exo fucked her open with methodical strokes, knocking the breath out of her with every motion. He knew he must be making a mess but he couldn't bring himself to care, too enraptured by the noises she was making and the way she clung to him to be overly concerned about later problems. Her voice broke, reducing her to making pitiful little sobs and gasps that had Bulwark's cock the hardest it had ever been. 

The Exo moved more frantically now, hands sliding up her torso and finding their way beneath her shirt. Delta arched her back, filling his palms with her breasts as she did, so Bulwark kneaded the flesh and teased her nipples much to her obvious delight. 

Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pinning his jaw to her shoulder, and Delta whispered, “come for me,” in a tone that brooked no argument. Bulwark grunted, shuddering. His voiceprint glitched momentarily, dropping by several octaves and issuing this strange rumbling growl that made Delta purr and fuck back against him in response. 

“Damn it.” Bulwark snarled, grabbing onto her hips and holding her still as he came. It was an odd sensation to find himself nearly winded, the Exo having to brace his weight on the floor momentarily. 

Delta went pliant beneath him, the woman moaning out a tremulous ‘holy shit’ when he asked if she was alright. Uncertain as to what that meant, Bulwark took it upon himself to tug her thermal shirt back down, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric. 

“Delta?” He queried again, wanting to be courteous but fumbling a bit on his phrasing. “I'm going to…uh…pull out, alright?” 

Delta waved a limp hand back at him, which he took as a go-ahead to withdraw. The Exo cautiously pulled away, warning her not to move as he rushed to dig through his supplies for something to clean up the mess he had made. Finally settling on an unused undershirt, the titan made quick work of wiping her down. The woman remained slumped on the bedroll so after another moment of silence, Bulwark gingerly wriggled her pants up her thighs, situating the waistband properly and then settling back onto his haunches to study her nervously. 

Was she upset? Had he done something wrong? Why was she so quiet?

A snore abruptly interrupted the tense stillness and Bulwark had to muffle his laughter with his sleeve, the titan relieved beyond reckoning. Asleep. She had just passed back out, obviously still weary. He doubted his ‘tender attentions’ had done much to dispel her exhaustion. Thank the Light.

…

When the call came through a few hours later, it found the two titans wrapped around each other, both sleeping soundly. Requisition hovered uncertainly, letting Sinclair take the initiative to rouse the Guardians. Bulwark woke at the first chiming hum from Sinclair, but chose to remain where he was for one last peaceful moment.

“Variks is ready.” Sinclair repeated to the sleepy Delta, tone soft but firm. “He says to be wary, House Salvation is rallying after your efforts earlier.”

Delta groaned, stretching her arms overhead and then shaking Bulwark's shoulder. The Exo growled something unintelligible, a fist meeting the floor and scoring another dent in the plating when he propped himself up. “Un'nerstood.” He mumbled through a broad yawn, metalloid jaw issuing a loud clunk with the motion. “Three minutes to put the kit back on.”

“Three and a half?” Delta bargained, already strapping on her greaves. She had always been quick with her armor, but the rest of their camp could take longer. “Some of these clasps are fiddly.”

“Variks is waiting.” Bulwark reminded her while shrugging on his underlayer of plasteel weave, grinning when she rolled her eyes. “And House Light. Just think about how happy this will make Misraakskel.”

Delta puffed out her cheeks, seeming to turn the idea over in her mind. “Alright, yeah, I get it. Let's bring those Servitors back home.” 

“That's the plan.” Bulwark helped her settle her helm down onto her gorget, wiggling it back and forth until he felt it slot properly into the weave. His own helmet followed, and Delta took it upon herself to straighten the crooked latches securing his right pauldron as he donned his gauntlets.  

“There.” She said finally, having fiddled with it for much longer than Bulwark would have deemed necessary. The woman then cupped the side of his helmet, tapping her forehead against his jaw. “Let's go.”

“Understood.” 

The two of them stepped out into the snow once more, joined hands held for a brief moment before being dropped in favor of slinging weaponry forward into a usable position. Back to work. Bulwark glanced down, watching Delta deftly slot shells into her shotgun. 

“Hey, I…” the Exo paused, fiddling with his scout rifle while he tried to force out the words. He could feel Delta looking at him, the woman waiting patiently. In a way, it was like she always had. “You want to go for a drink sometime?” Bulwark-26 finally mumbled gruffly. “My treat.” 

A gauntlet landed on his shoulder with the clatter of articulated digits, Delta's laughter crackling through the speakers on her helm. “Really, Bull?” 

The Exo shifted his weight awkwardly, nodding. “I'm…I'm sorry I took so long.” He apologized, the words a little stilted. 

“Hey, I'm just glad you finally came around.” Delta gave him a gentle jab in the ribs with the butt of her shotgun. “And now I can show you where my favorite spot is! It's going to be great.”

Bulwark wanted to scold himself for smiling over something so mundane as a favorable response, but at the same time… “I look forward to it, then.”

“Me too.” Delta heaved a heavy sigh, “but first, the job. One more thing to shoulder, eh?”

“We're titans.” Bulwark reminded her, knocking a prong into the side of her helmet. “We carry the world's burdens. We are the wall against which Darkness breaks.” He could feel her rolling her eyes. “We will keep them safe.”

“I know.” She leaned into his prong for a fleeting moment, then straightened back up. “We've got this, yeah?”

“There is no alternative.”

“Traveler, you sound so fucking old.” 

Bulwark cuffed her good-naturedly around the back of the helmet, his laughter no longer feeling quite so unfamiliar. Delta's own laugh rang out and the woman bolted off, sabatons punching through the icy crust on the snow as she went. 

“Don't get left behind, big guy!” She called.

“Not a chance, New Light!”

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #29

A very weird thing happened today. It looks like, in an effort to make me feel small, worthless, and stupid, some random person on the internet decided to make a mock summary of one of the letters I wrote to you. Behold the nonsense:

Clearly, this person did not actually read what I had written, because the point of the letter that I found this comment in was to model things like "allowing oneself to rest", "strategies for emotional control even when you're tired and full of despair", and "remembering that there is still goodness in this world and people in it who can love you". I don't think I've ever indicated in any of the letters that I've written that I wish for any type of committed romantic or sexual relationship with you at any point, ever.

But, let me, for the sake of integrity, write the following so as to make my intentions perfectly clear: no, I do not want any kind of romantic or sexual relationship with you. There are numerous reasons for this:

First, you are a fictional character in a fictional world. This, by itself, presents a wide variety of insurmountable logistical issues that would make marriage impossible. When you add in our relative ability levels (you are a well-trained superhuman combat veteran, whereas I am a weak, noodley derpasaurus rex in a human suit, with all the grace and coordination of a drunken baboon), the resulting power dynamic would be problematic at best.

Second: it has been indicated on multiple occasions that you have zero interest in romance or sex; for all intents and purposes, you have been defined as aromantic and asexual; why, then, would I ever even entertain the thought of marrying you, knowing that such a thing would be in direct violation of your wishes and needs?

Third: even if the first two points were moot, the fact still remains that you lack many of the necessary skills for the maintenance of a healthy romantic or sexual relationship, and that does not work for me. A healthy relationship requires all involved parties to be attuned with their own emotions, able to responsibly tend to their basic needs (food, water, sleep, at very least), able to assertively communicate their wants and needs, and able to prioritize their wellbeing in a general sense, at very minimum. The version of you that I've seen in the media provided to us does none of those things. Rather:

Instead of dealing with your emotions honestly and constructively, you isolate yourself (in the Shinra Data Room, or in the Shinra Manor Library) until you've stuffed them down far enough that you can maybe sort of almost convince yourself that you can kind-of-sort-of function (this is NOT the "winning coping skill" that so many people in my world seem to think it is!!). Given what happened at Nibelheim, I think we can both agree that it is a serious understatement to say that you habitually deny your emotions both to others and to yourself, only to have the resulting exhaustion and resentment come out in destructive ways later.

You prioritize others even at the expense of yourself, as seen when you took watch on the first night at Nibelheim, despite your exhaustion. You do not tend your own bodily needs reliably; even before your weeklong bout of hyperfocus in that damnable library (in which you did not eat, sleep, or hydrate at all, if accounts that you never left the room are to be believed), it was indicated that you had been losing weight from not eating properly shortly after Genesis and Angeal deserted.

You do not communicate your wants and needs with assertiveness or integrity; clearly you were struggling with the death of Angeal and all the nasty things that Genesis said to you, but you did not once ask for any kind of help from Zack, despite the fact that he had demonstrated himself time and time again to be safe, supportive, and reliable. You are still human despite the modifications made to you, but you are still far too hard on yourself and you don't allow yourself to make any mistakes. Did you even let yourself take time off after Angeal's death? Given the way you treat yourself, I gotta wonder.

To be sure, the old version of me used to struggle mightily with all of these. I still sometimes do; codependent tendencies borne from trauma and used as survival techniques are a bitch to root out of a person's psyche. But I'm putting in the work every single day to learn new skills and to manage these things, because the people who love me are counting on me to be safe to myself and to them. As far as I know, you have not put any work into this yet, and I don't foresee that you will be able to work on these things until much later in your journey, after some modicum of peace in your world is achieved.

And I am a demiromantic and demisexual. Things like fame, status, income, titles, accolades, physical appearance, fitness, intelligence, and all the other arbitrary bullshit that people judge each other for, day in and day out… none of that matters one bit to me. I look at a person's innermost nature. I am piqued by kindness and gentleness of character, but these alone still won't do it for me. If I move forward with any type of committed lifepartnership with anyone, I and the other person have to know each other well and have a strong emotional bond, I have to be able to trust them without question or hesitation, and I have to feel safe with them at all times. It's a high bar (I've been through A LOT, so I'm not ashamed, and I expect myself to meet these same conditions), but these requirements are non-negotiable for anyone - not even you.

You do have an abundance of kindness and gentleness, and I know a lot about you and the things you've done, but I do not know you. Given your track record, I would not be able to trust that you are being honest and assertive with me about your thoughts, emotions, wishes, and needs. And given your lack of self-attunement when it comes to your needs and emotions, the fact that you prioritize your self-care behind literally anything else, and the fact that you clearly struggle to control yourself when you are having big feelings, I would not at all feel safe with you in a lifepartnership type of context.

I love you to death. Truly, I could eat you right up. I love when you smile and laugh. I'd give you as many (or as few) hugs as you want. I'd hold your hand while walking, if you wished. I'll offer you as many kind and encouraging words as I have. I'd like to bring you to nifty places and feed you tasty things and show you all the stories I love and teach you all the things I've learned while living. I'd like to hear you sing something, or watch you play a video game, or watch you do anything that you love to do. But none of this translates to sexual or romantic feelings for you, in any way, shape, or form; everything I've described is just normal friend things; these are all things that I do fairly regularly with all of the people in my social group.

And it saddens me to think that this person who tried (and failed) to make me feel small might have read all the kind and encouraging things that I wrote to you while believing that saying kind and encouraging things is something that should be done only with a potential marriage candidate; what a very narrow definition of care that this person must have to live with. It also saddens me to think that this person's first instinct at seeing someone write about something close to their heart is to mock it; I wonder from where this person has received similar treatment in the past for expressing positive things about something they love. I truly hope everything is okay at home for them. I'll wish for peace, healing, safety, and joy upon them.

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter how people treat me. I'm still going to choose kindness no matter what nonsense gets thrown at me. I'm still going to write to you. I'm still going to model healthy(ish?) ways of coping with one's darker emotions. I'm still going to model what it means to change internal narratives and beliefs. I'm still going to model taking proper care of oneself, even when one doesn't feel like it. I'm still going to write about reframing events in my life into something positive when I can, and working through the negative emotions with help when I cannot. I'm still going to write about my journey towards becoming a healed person even after the absolute shitshow that was my childhood. And I'm still going to make beautiful things and do beautiful things and speak and write and act upon beautiful things in your name. I cannot be stopped. The light and beauty that pours from my soul is an inevitability, just like it is with every other human who lives in my world.

If they want to get me to shut up about it, they're going to have to kill me, and if they're that desperate to get me to shut up that they'd make an attempt, in the end they'd still be doing me a goddamn favor (I never asked to live through horror on a dying planet in a defective meat-suit; what the fuck even is this?), so the joke's on them either way.

I am fucking unbreakable. And that's thanks to you. And it's thanks to all the other people in my world who love me, too. There are lots of things in this world that conspire to give me unimaginable courage and amazing capacity to express love at other people, and I'm sure as hell not going to squander any opportunity I have to make the best use I can of these gifts I've been given.

May you stop for a moment to consider all of the things that make you unbreakable, all of the curses that befell you, all of the love you've been given, all the amazing things you can do, and all of the people who will have your back along the way if you'll let them. May these things inspire sufficient courage within you to make loving and wholesome choices, even when making such choices might cause you to get hurt.

As long as there is breath left in my body, I will continue write to you. It's a promise. Count on it.

Your friend, Lumine

[sundrownsthehouse]

Take this pain bestie 👀🥹

I'm determined to have a new chapter posted by the end of the year! I know it's been so long, and I really appreciate that people still care about this silly little story. I've been writing today actually and realized that I have about 5K down, which would make this my longest update so far. I'm still very in love with this fic- I'm just trying to figure out who I am as a writer a little bit.

But! As a treat and a sincerely heartfelt thank you, here is an excerpt from the next chapter with some insight into George's thoughts, starting where we last left off:

The faded grey light of the city filtered in from the windows where they’d forgotten to draw the curtains closed, casting streaky shadows across the ceiling. There was a gentle hush over the hotel room broken only by the muted hum of the aircon. George gazed up into the darkness. Comfortably cocooned in cool, plush blankets with a warm body at his side, it should have been easy for him to fall asleep; this was the exact kind of quiet stillness he craved while on tour. And yet.

His eyes flicked down to the top of Matty’s head where it lay heavily on his chest, dark curls spilling across his skin. He could tell that Matty was still awake by the cadence of his breathing. Despite himself, George was hyperaware of the fact that Matty must be able to hear his heart hammering out a steady rhythm against his ribs. That notion alone threatened to send it racing.

And that’s sort of strange, George thought as he stared at the ceiling, because they’d done this so many times. Matty’s presence at his side was so familiar, it really shouldn’t provoke much of a reaction at all. Then again, it was unusual to lie awake together, entangled like this, without feigning ignorance; the cuddling wasn’t something they’d ever acknowledged openly in the past. It had never bothered George before, the way they’d always danced around it— it hadn’t really mattered— but to think about it now made him inexplicably sad. He didn’t know why they tried to pretend that they didn’t want the same things.

Over and over the night replayed itself in George’s mind, the gravity of it all weighing on him. In the span of only forty-eight hours everything he thought he knew and felt about his relationship with Matty had changed. It was confusing, overwhelming, and slightly terrifying. There was so much he still didn’t understand. The unspoken questions permeated the air between them like a thick fog. What did it mean, exactly, that they both seemed to want… something more? Did it have to mean anything at all?

And what if it did? What then?

As much as George had wanted to pretend that everything was fine, the degree of Matty’s distress had seriously shaken him; they needed to talk about this. In the morning, George told himself firmly. Now wasn’t the time, not when they were both utterly exhausted. He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he could actually read Matty’s mind; even seeing Matty’s expression would give him some idea of where they stood. Nevertheless, he was secretly grateful they weren’t face-to-face. George was a little afraid of what he might find, and somehow, more intimidated by what Matty might see.

The bed shifted slightly. Matty sighed. The puff of breath was warm on George’s skin, already sensitized by the tiny brush of Matty’s lashes as he blinked, gazing out at a city still aglow despite the late hour. George shivered curiously at the feeling. An unexpected wave of shame that he couldn’t reconcile burned in the pit of his stomach.