#also reblogged that post bc it was a good post

[f1-stuff]

You mentioned omegaverse in the surreal DC reblog where he’s commenting far too much on Charles’s smell lol and it made me wonder if you’ve ever considered writing omegaverse Charlos? Do you have any interest or not so much your thing?

Love your work <33333

Hello! ❤️ I didn't used to be into omegaverse very much tbh, but something clicked in the last couple years and I started to vibe with it a lot more. I actually did start to write an abo charlos fic, that's also a Victorian-era royalty arranged marriage situation (woo that's a mouthful 😂), but I haven't added much to it in a while...

The funny thing is that I find myself forgetting it's abo while writing bc there's so much else going on, and then I have to throw in a line about someone's scent asghfjlslsdk. But anyway, I'm gonna share a little more of it now just because I feel like it's been a while since I posted a fic or a snippet...

“Charles.”

Impatience has crept into his mother’s voice by the second utterance of his name, and yet Charles still takes the time to finish the page he’s reading before clapping the (dreadfully boring) book shut and looking up at her expectantly. As usual, she doesn’t look particularly amused by his stubbornness.

“Charles, I was thinking that perhaps you and I should stay away from the palace for an additional month or so.”

“What?” he frowns. “Why?”

“To rest,” she suggests. “It’s been a very tough week, and you still don’t look well-”

“Maman,” he sighs, rubbing his temple where a headache is starting to form. Of course, he won’t tell her that. “I feel fine. And I’m ready to go home. We already missed Uncle’s birthday. We are not missing Papa’s.”

His mother doesn’t reply. It’s not the first time she’s brought it up, and it won’t be the last, but Charles isn’t losing this particular argument. Not even if he has to escape back to the palace himself. A week away from his father in his poor condition is already too much to bear, let alone the prospect of more time apart.

Charles and his mother’s retreat to their country residence had been unavoidable. The ‘very tough week’ in question is Charles’ heat, which had been brought on early due to the stress he's been under, caused by his numerous advisors' renewed efforts as of late to convince him to sign the regency order. No doubt they’ll be hoping that now, weakened by five days of fever and delirium, he’ll feel further compelled to relinquish his power to a regent in the event of his father’s death before he’s come of age.

It’s never going to happen, and his mother doesn’t need to try to protect him by hiding him away for a month either. She, along with everyone in that damned palace, treats him delicately enough as it is. Ever since he’d presented around eleven years old, he’s been wrapped in cotton wool. But just because he’s an omega doesn’t mean he isn’t perfectly capable of standing up for himself. In fact, he can’t wait to be free of the silly protective measures that were put in place almost seven years ago. The moment he’s crowned, he’s doing away with all of it.

“Really, Charles. I hope you’re not upset we had to come here. You know that it’s for your own safety-”

“Yes, maman, I know,” he interrupts, then sighs and aims a small smile her way to soften his exasperated tone. “I’m not arguing that. But I don’t need any more time to recover. It isn’t as though I do much more than this in the palace, anyway.”

Reading books, painting, playing piano and chess - there isn’t much more that he’s allowed to do. The other activities that his brothers partake in, like horse riding and archery, aren’t permitted for him, nevermind that he performed them just fine before he’d presented. That argument has never worked to convince anyone to grant him allowances because it’s not really about whether he’s capable.

“Well...if you’re certain.”

“I am,” he says, firmly. His mother nods.

Good. That’s settled, then. She speaks again before he has a chance to reopen his book.

“The other thing I’ve been meaning to discuss with you - your uncle has invited the Sainz siblings to come and stay at the palace. You met their two eldest when you were very young, but I’m sure you don’t remember.”

“No,” Charles confirms, intrigued. “Who are they?”

“Their father is a Spanish duke, and his son, Prince Carlos, is just a few years older than you. Unlikely that he will ever inherit the throne, but it is a distant possibility.”

Ah. So a marriage prospect, then. Charles bites back a sigh. From one prison to another.

“You should get to know him better,” his mother says, reading his expression.

“Why?” he asks, just to be difficult. He knows very well why.

“Because. Your Uncle Thierry thinks it’s a good idea.”

Well, if his uncle thinks it, then so it shall be.

Charles sinks further into his chair, grabbing the book he’d set aside and reopening it pointedly. His mother takes the hint. (The book may be a dull one, but at least it serves its purpose as a conversation ender superbly.)

****

“Monaco could be a very important chess piece in future conflicts,” Caco explains, leaning against the table to address his young cousin. “It is under the military protection of France, and having the force of France at our disposal could be instrumental in quelling potential unrest.”

Carlos Junior looks up at him from his seat at the desk, notes of skepticism in his expression. He doesn’t make an objection just yet - his cousin would not be telling him this unless it had come from his father directly.

Caco sets down a piece of paper in front of him. It’s a drawing of a young man who can’t be more than eighteen, his boyish features evident even in sketch form. The other thing that is undeniable is his beauty, a sense of mischief and innocence dancing in his eyes that has Carlos wondering if it’s a faithful representation.

“Is he this pretty in person?”

Caco simply gives him a look, not dignifying that with a response. “That is Prince Charles, heir apparent to the Monegasco throne, seventeen years old. In the next few weeks, you will study everything there is to know about him - his favorite novels, plays, composers. You will brush up on your French-”

“Wait, wait, cousin,” Carlos interjects, blinking in confusion. “What does a prince have to do with me?”

“That omega...” Carlos’ gaze shoots up to his cousin, brows raising. “...has everything to do with you.”

Ah. That changes things, indeed.

“As I was saying,” Caco continues, sighing. “In order to keep the prince safe, he’s been kept sheltered from his father’s court for years, ever since he was a boy. Thus, when he does make a rare public appearance, such as at the opera or ballet, his mere presence causes quite a stir.”

Carlos’ eyes return to the paper in front of him, his gaze tracing a path over the prince’s nose and settling at the elegant curve of his lips.

“You must win his favor before anyone else has the chance,” his cousin says. “The first visit in a few weeks’ time will be vital. We can afford no mistakes. But always remember, you are first and foremost a Sainz. Do not forget the reason behind all of this, no matter how ‘pretty’ his face.”

Carlos tries to bite back his smirk, but likely fails from the look his cousin sends him.

“Charm him, Carlos. Make him smile. God knows you are good at that. The rest will be up to fate.”

[shrimpmandan]

Cannot emphasize the tonal whiplash of seeing a post on my dash about how it's cringe to demand people care about a conflict in another country and then immediately after that see a post about Armenian genocide awareness

[crispyliza]

It's a real struggle

[mattodore]

birthday boy 🎂

[flufflecat]

Oh

oh.

[fumifooms]

Dungeon lord Chilchuck

What would his wish as a dungeon lord be? What would he be like? Headcanons & speculation post for fun. But I’ll start with analytic lead up because that’s always fun for me, though feel free to skip and skim.

When it comes to what Chilchuck’s dungeon lord desires could/would be like we have mainly 3 hints: His nightmare, his succubus and what the winged lion says to him.

Why: — From what we see nightmares are based on the person’s worst fears and insecurities, both Laios’ and Marcille’s nightmare were closely tied to their dungeon lord wishes (Laios’ dream monster being summoned to crush the ghosts of relationships that represented the pressure to fit in and belong, Marcille seeking control over death and aging through magic to avoid loss), the fuel behind their desire/goal if you will. Fear and deep-seated desires are seemingly closely tied, something also supported by Thistle and Mithrun’s reigns as dungeon lords (Thistle proving his worth through fulfilling his given duty + protecting his loved ones, being listened to instead of having to listen, Mithrun escaping rigid two-faced elven society and living in a wonderland where he has no enemies and he’s loved, free from everyone he knew yet propped up by the person symbolizing his brother being chosen over him, the bastard child).

— I’ve talked about the significance I assign to the succubi often by now, but rundown: What we see of each character is all very telling if you care to listen, it shows not only someone’s "ideal form" but what they want from it. Izutsumi’s is familial, offering a hug and comfort, Marcille’s is romantic with a character she knows and loves, offering a kiss on a hand and a connection regardless of how distant it actually is, and Laios’ is platonic, arguable at first but then Laios’ fear of judgement is placated and he is offered the picture perfect friend group that accepts his interest (if you want my full look at Laios’ succubus go here). They take on the most alluring form, most ideal person of their victim, even uncovering deep subconscious desires, so precisely and effectively to the point it leaves victims physically frozen before the object of their desire. Succubi and the demon are themselves tied in lore and it’s easy to see how similar their core skill are. Succubi don’t give a good idea of what a character would wish for on their own but they certainly give hints on what they crave, regardless of how you want to read it.

— Last bit is self-explanatory. To placate Chilchuck and win his compliance over, the monster that reads your soul like an open book offers to give him something specific. But! It’s also important to remember that the lion isn’t offering to fulfill Chilchuck’s dream world wish here, it’s a second prize, because his goal with what he promised Laios is that they’d stay in this world, away from everyone and everything else. Chilchuck wants to get away but is kept back, and it’s here the lion placates him with "hey it’s okay! You can’t do that but I can still give you this! This is enough right? It’ll make everything easier on you".

What each bit says: — Long version in another post. Tldlr: His daughters and family are obviously important to him, and this reinforces that he takes on the role of protector a lot, he’s constantly worried for his party members’ lives and implicitly his family’s. Safety and stability, both economical and otherwise, are his core values and goals, and he berates both others and himself if someone fails on those fronts. Here, there’s the fear of not being enough, of not having been able to protect, and of course of loss.

— Chil’s succubi are obviously sexual, and not only that but agressively and straightforwardly so. It’s not like Marcille’s where there’s personality involved, all they do is give him sultry looks and pretty smiles before jumping on him. His succubi aren’t like Izutsumi’s, always the same exact person and appearance, so it’s not someone but an appealing general idea. The idea of a sexual being he can regard as simply a gorgeous piece of meat and a good time no strings attached. In my interpretation, especially with my reading of Laios’ succubus where even with deep-seated desires negative emotions can be too intense to effectively freeze a victim, I think this doesn’t contradict his character. Relationships have been painful to him in the past, in the succubus scene when his wife gets mentioned his immediate reaction is to yell "Don’t bring her up now!", like with his habit of drinking and as a tallman liking his senses feeling dulled, it’s about not having to feel emotions with how difficult they are to deal with sometimes and just feeling good, or at least not having to think, for a while. If a succubus showcases someone’s ideal connection with an ideal person, then Chilchuck’s is with a pretty person that doesn’t stir any negative memory or drama, someone low stakes and low maintenance that doesn’t require him to manage or talk out feelings because there’s none involved in the first place.

— Once more, wife and family are important! He does long for his family, not only his wife but his daughters, and vice versa. This suggests not only that he wants good relationships with them but that he wants them to be with him, a family life. Far from the cut communication they all more of less have during canon, and perhaps far from their life pre-canon when he worked away from home a significant amount of time. We’ve seen recreations of people by the winged lion before with doppelgangers and monsters (naga), and though he claims he can make satisfying imitations, what we’ve seen is that they base themselves on the best memories of that person, like with Marcille’s dad, or twist behavior to be more pleasant, like Mithrun’s lover (and possibly twist appearances depending on the person’s view of them, but that’s Mithrun analysis). The line does suggest Chilchuck would want his family members as they are in reality and not idealized versions, but the circumstances are chaotic and urgent enough in the scene (and again the lion isn’t fulfilling Chilchuck’s wish but trying to make him content for Laios’) that it could just be the winged lion saying what he needs to to convince him the fastest possible, and like we see with Laios that can crumble to give way to deeper or more complex desires.

On top of that we just have general info on Chil. How does Chilchuck deal w his issues? What does he like to do? He likes alcohol and ignoring his problems. We have to remember there is a split between what someone would consciously wish for and what their soul uncontrollably irrationally craves. As always with Dunmeshi, there’s a narrative of irrational deep-seated desires vs active wants, what you crave vs what you strive for, what you dream of vs what’s actually good for you, the animal vs the human inside you, heart vs mind. Chilchuck craving a harem of hot babes in his fantasies but wanting his family life & wife back again is not mutually exclusive. You may crave becoming a monster and tasting what humans are like a little but still want to save the world & your friends more.

Btw can we adress the irony of him terrified of being the last one alive, of being left by his daughters and wife, of having left and coming back home one day to see everything gone or rampaged, yet not caring about dying of liver failure himself, knowing every time that he enters a dungeon there’s a real risk he may not come out. Die somewhere I can’t see you. I prefer leaving you than being left behind. He’s selfish and shortsighted like that… Chilchuck is selfless in many ways of course, but perhaps also due to his own relationship with his parents, he often undermines the effects he has on others in his relationships, both the good and the bad (he talks himself down about being cowardly and greedy yes, but never hints at his bad health habits, alcoholism and starving himself, may have affected his loved ones, doesn’t question his wife falling into a bad mood the night before she left, and talks about the possibility of dying here and there very casually, though obviously he tries his best to stay alive when it doesn’t concern his health).

Chilchuck king of "Let me just avoid and ignore my problems surely they’ll go away, things might work out and if they don’t well tough luck I’ll survive and I probably deserve it anyways". If I don’t look at it it will dissapear <3 Why care when you can simply not think about it.

You might not understand Mister "my love will stay strong through months of work travel and also 4 years of separation" and Mister "well idk my siblings and me are kinda strangers and my dad is dead but that’s kinda whatever", but typically relationships need some form of maintenance and emotional availability…

The actual headcanons finally

I kinda have 2 routes in mind for dunlord Chil and both of them are centered on "I care too much, i wish things were easy", so first is a lot like his succubi, it’s full on indulging in his guilty pleasures like alcohol and bodies and it’s to keep him in a constant state of thrill and euphoria and distracted, unfeeling about stuff that really matters. "Nothing matters except that I’m enjoying the moment!" vibe. He gets to live a life worthy of Dionysus, with alcohol and women and debauchery and like— never having to think again, never having to feel anything but pleasure again, never have to feel guilty or shitty or angry or sad. He has a harem and gets everything on a silver platter.

Breaking news demon magic-induced rush of euphoria and power still not enough to cure this man of his self-hatred nor his capacity for thought!! But in his case a state of euphoria is what he seeks I think, to kinda mask or replace the Everything Else.

The other is what I think closer to what canon suggests, with what WL implied too with "I’ll make you a new wife and kids like the originals!! 😊", it’s a (spoilers) Wandavision type thing where it’s a slice of life where he’s never at work and always at home and the family eats lunches at the dinner table together and everything and everyone at any moment is just. Happy. No issues. It was all a dream, this is real and everything is fine and your family is perfect and happy. I like to think the timeline would be wonky, his daughters would fluctuate in age, but he’d want to be there for what he missed, would want them to still rely on him and look up to him like when they were young, would like to forget that they’re now independent adults and the distance that grew between Chilchuck and his siblings is happening between them as well. Chil would want doppelgangers of his family imo, at its core just a general wish for a peaceful happy family life with no drama, no need to compromise, a little paradise of unconditional love and no consequences. It’s for sure straightforward, but Chilchuck is a man with straightforward desires…

But see Chilchuck is a greedy man, and he wants it both ways without having to sacrifice anything or expanding any efforts himself. He wants to have his cake and eat it too. I think playing with these two opposite directions and mixing and matching is most fun. Him leading a life where he indulges in all his worst habits while still having everything he wants… Him getting to have BOTH his wife and any woman he can imagine up, his life like two sides of a coin he can flip at any moment where he’s partying then he’s at home enjoying the quiet and his toddler daughters playing with toys on the carpet. Christ when you remember it’s all an illusion that’s terrifying, the doppelgangers and succubi from the winged lion playing chilchuck ping pong.

A safe little haven both security-stability wise and emotionally. Gets to have both the relaxing and the thrilling in any dose he wants, mixed or separatedly. What I’d argue he had pre-canon too: Can live it up in taverns away from home, stays away from home for long periods of time, and can come back to home aka the symbol of relaxation and safety whenever he decides to. Something he can leave and come back to at will, an anchor he can trust in (until it’s taken from him and his wife leaves. Or in his worse nightmare people rush in and kill his daughters). The ideal of a house and family to a working man, perhaps…

I think it’s fun to think on wether or not these desires would be interesting at all to the winged lion… In canon he seeks out "rare/complex desires", common simple things like I imagine riches, sex, substances and pleasure would be are boring to him, he’s eaten those so many times already. So perhaps he wouldn’t last long as a dunlord, the WL would want to eat him fully quick, can’t keep him interested or waiting long for a meager meal, too much effort raising the cattle and too low quality meat. By making it more twisted or layered Chil’s desire would become more desirable to the demon, it’s part of what’s fun with the third option to me. But whatever. Has he ever eaten a guy with this much repression and self-sabotage... Like trying to get the meat out of a walnut, enrichment…

Other dunlord Chil takes I’ve seen that are fun and good:

@feelo-fick and @pluvio-floret have a dunlord Chilchuck AU project dubbed "tragedy AU" where Chilchuck is said to be "on vacation", in a weird delirious state, only half-there half of the time… From which he doesn’t want to wake up </3 Quoting Feelo, this is why the vacation thing is only a half-joke cause he is 1) letting all his responsibilities go 2) indulging in himself and 3) "spending time with his family" <- lie but you get what i mean. Additional comments that have me vigorously nodding: because changing is hard why cant things just be okay right now without the effort !!! Life is hard he’s so so tired he just wants to feel good… he just wants life to feel nice and easy for a sec while he can learn to breathe again and lose the stress and trauma he’s accumulated…….. spoiler alert yes !!! in fact a depressed person can suck themselves into their job and lock out the world who wouldve thought !!!

And then Cabinette I know posted about his dunlord take once but I don’t have the link, in which Chil has a lot of nosebleeds because of mana overload which is fun and interesting to think about imo~

In dunmeshi, where characters get underground pockets of the world as their playground disconnected from everything outside and the rest of the world, it’s important to remember to face reality even if it has conflict and people with different views and stances from you, it’s something Chilchuck and Marcille and everyone needed to learn, and the thing with a dungeon lord AU is that you imagine a timeline where he fails to <3

A timeline where his dungeon lord wish is to desire nothing bc hope and want has only ever hurt him would also go so hard. Very universal thing though I suppose.

… And this is why a Chilchuck-centric Coraline AU is really really interesting and fitting and topical— Ok that’ll go in a separate reblog/post at @Fumiku I need to let this end

[mieczyhale]

[sadrien]

🩰 tangled ribbons books available to buy!!

so you all may remember that about 2 and a half years ago (oh my god) i did a limited print run of tangled ribbons! when i did that run, i ordered some extras both in case something happened and so i would have something else on my table as i was doing my first con and i was a little low on items

however, i still have these in stock and i'm trying to clean out some of my stuff, so they're now available on my kofi with some of my miraculous merch!!

you can either buy the book alone for 10 usd, or for 14 usd you can also get a print and two die cut stickers!

not only that, but i do have mystery bags of exclusively miraculous merch for 25 usd if you'd like to check those out! they'll later be listed on my etsy, but for now they're ko-fi exclusive! get it here!

since you're reading this post i'll let you in on a little secret, the mystery bags contain this print and both die cut stickers if you don't want to double buy!

store

[randomwriteronline]

"Ah! You're one of those," a voice came to his ears.

Nuparu turned to find a tall Gaquri standing at the entrance, looking at him curiously.

"I am a Toa," he corrected.

The other nodded: "Yes, I do know that. Forgot the name is all. You're a, uh... Ko?"

"Onu."

"Hm! My mistake. Which element is that, again?"

"Earth. Do you need something?" the inventor cut their small talk short, lightly tapping a tool similar to a wrench against the skeletal frame of what appeared to be a heavily modded chariot: "I'm working on a project."

"You know where Berix is?" the Gaquri asked. He raised an arm: an interesting weapon, with a jagged light blue blade at one end and some kind of projectile mechanism attached to the handle, dangled from it casually. "Wanted to drop this off to him. The thornax launcher's been jamming up more often and I know that boy can make it work like a charm again."

"He's getting parts," Nuparu answered. His eyes rested once more on the blade and he added, tilting his head intrigued: "You can leave it here if you want."

"So you can study some original Bara Magna manufacturing?" the other joked.

"It's not really my field, but it looks remarkable."

He watched the organic being laugh heartily as he approached - with a fairly heavy limp, he noticed: "Remarkable! Now that's a bit of an exaggeration, kid. I made these from some bones, whatever viable scraps I could find from wrecks of the Core War, and a few patches across the years when I could afford it. It's held together by spit and whatever Ackar's friend did to make it spurt water."

"From what I understand, spit doesn't seem like a good adhesive."

"That's what we say here to mean something's parts are real shoddily connected together."

"Hm! Like dried mud. Or aluminum sheet."

"That's the idea. Ah, where should I put this, anyhow?"

"There is fine. What's with your leg?"

The Gaquri gave a grimace: "Nothing much - just my knee acting up," he replied, patting the guilty joint. "Something must have gotten rusted. It happens."

Even through the lack of expression of his mask Nuparu treated him to a baffled look.

"What?"

"Organic parts don't rust," the Toa sputtered. "At least, ours don't."

The other eyed the tendons and muscles peeking through black armor, and his lips perked up in a little smile.

Without a word he placed his weapon on the least cluttered corner of Berix's work desk before redirecting his now free hands to the side of the faulty knee, messing with what appeared to be the graceless stitching of a large wound: his fingers sank deftly into it and pried through the gaps enough to loosen the whole thing, and before the less organic being's flabbergasted eyes pulled down the fake skin and meat to reveal a fully mechanical joint, complete with pistons and springs and even what seemed like wires.

"Don't worry," he chuckled with a wave, "Ours don't either. But most crusty old Glatorian like me haven't been completely flesh and bone in a long time."

If the inventor's attention had been piqued before, he was completely captivated now. He was leaning on his seat towards him, vehicle project all but forgotten, intently studying as many details of the prosthesis as he could see from that distance.

His eager interest made the other laugh again: "Why all that surprise! Don't you see something like this on you every day?"

"Yes, but I'm not you!"

"And what's that mean?"

"You're all flesh! And meat! And skin! How does that work?"

The Gaquri considered something for a moment. "If you can get me a seat and figure out what's wrong with it, I'll be glad to let you have a closer look," he offered at last.

Nuparu pulled the stool from right under himself so fast that he fell on his ass.

He then placed it down with extreme care and patted it insistently.

The other barely held back a snort.

His implant hadn't caused this much of a scene since the first day it had been up and functional.

"The name's Tarix, anyhow," he introduced himself as he sat down a little heavily. "Since you'll be rummaging knuckle-deep through the insides of my leg for the next thirty minutes."

"Hm," Nuparu replied as he kneeled until his mask was all but grazing the joint.

Tarix waited a dozen seconds, and added: "You got one too, Toa?"

"One what?"

"Name."

"Nuparu."

"I see. Ah - nope, nope, don't-" his fingers quickly pinched the mechanical being's and lifted them away from the scarified tissue binding the meat to the metal: "That's real flesh, don't peel that - the nerves still work, you'd put me through the pains of Plude."

"What's that?"

"You folks have a place in your lore built just to torture you forever?"

"Yes, Karzhani. I've been there."

"Huh. Well, I've been to Plude too back when it still existed, and I'll just say that the only good thing the Lord of Sand might've done was collapsing it on itself. So, you get what I mean about the pain."

"Hm. Yes, I can imagine. But how do I - see, to check the individual parts, I'd need to pull them off..."

"Oh - hold it, let me just..."

Angling his leg in an uncomfortable position and hunching down with a hiss, the Glatorian set to work carefully pulling screws loose with the help of an empty pipe he'd fetched from his pocket. The small parts dangled from their sockets without falling, just distant enough from the point the metal touched to allow the top and bottom pieces to be pulled apart without needing to pull the much more easy to lose components out of the whole.

"Hold the calf a moment, will you?" he muttered with the pipe now stuck between his teeth. Nuparu complied, holding the lower half of the leg still as Tarix worked his magic on the inner wires. At last, satisfied, he unfurled his back up once more and puffed satisfied: "There, pull."

When the Toa did so, the prosthesis came apart as easily as a house of cards. Suddenly, in the mechanical palm was a whole calf, still warm with life and undoubtedly organic.

Tarix watched genuinely amused as Nuparu tested the ankle in his hands and on the ground, miming an attempt at a walk as though playing with a very concerning doll with nothing short of pure unadultered fascination.

He posed it as if stuck in a sprint: "Can you feel this?"

"Not a single thing," the Glatorian replied. He patted the metallic femur's exposed head: "And neither can I here. The connections are all in the wires, they go right into the nerves, see? So long as they're apart I can't feel crap anywhere from over here," and he pointed to the flesh that stopped around the middle of his thigh "To the rest of the leg underneath. Not that I should be able to, frankly, if we wanted to abide by nature's whims, but luckily for me us Spherus Magna natives never cared much for that."

Nuparu hummed: "How'd you get it like this, anyways?"

"Oh," the Glatorian shrugged as though it were the most normal thing in the world, "Blew up."

"It just exploded?"

"Not by itself, of course, someone shot the whole thing out of me."

The Toa treated him to an appalled look.

Tarix waved a hand harshly, chewing on his unlit pipe: "The Core War was absolutely barbaric, kid! I've witnessed stuff I wouldn't wish on a Skrall. When I saw that half you've got there in your hand fly over my head as gracefully as the ugliest bird known to any being with eyes, I thought I was going to die of shock like a Mountain Striker with a broken wing. I still have no clue how I managed to keep awake through the bloodloss and pain long enough for the fixers to figure out I was still alive enough to be taken down to the medic."

Nuparu regarded the half of a limb in his grasp with newfound horror and fascination. A whole portion of leg, shot right out... He wasn't sure if even the Vortixx could have had something capable of doing that. Oh, sure, they had plenty of possibly worse things, but even the most blunt tended to have slightly more complex effects than just 'blows a chunk off of you'.

And the fact that they had managed to rebuild the broken joint and connected it to the rest of the nervous system was nothing short of miraculous, compared to the same thing done on a mechanical being - whose organic components regenerate, too.

"And all Glatorian have something like this?"

"Us older ones, yes," the other nodded. He watched with a sort of lazy interest as the Toa turned his attention to the mechanism of his prosthesis, checking for damage as he had promised. "The rookies tend to have the usual stuff, thank goodness - scars, plaques, maybe a limb, some fingers..."

"Fingers?"

"Yes, some of them. They tend to nip 'em a lot during training, you know, when they start to get the hang of it and stop holding their weapons like they're gonna grow a mouth and bite them - they cut tendons often those first few times. Or just the whole thing."

"Really?"

He chuckled, playfully waving his fingers: "Gresh keeps losing them. If you look closely you can tell which phalanxes are still his."

"I thought he was good at fighting."

"He is. He's just young. And a little too brash at times."

Nuparu hummed, moving onto the piece of implant attached to his thigh: "You mentioned limbs, too," he noted absentmindedly: "Is that also common, during training?"

"Losing them? Oh no, that happens out in the desert. Or, used to happen... Well, the desert's still out there, just smaller, so I guess - point is, you'll sooner get one cut off by a Bone Hunter or chewed up by a Vorox than find a fellow Glatorian who'll do that to you, on purpose or not. We made sure to try and avoid that sort of thing when we made the rules for the job."

"And plaques?"

"Oh, these," and he tapped some strange metallic protrusions on the top of his legs, on the side of his arms, and on his shoulders. "Nothing special, they keep armor in place. Easier than having to strap it on. We install them when we come of age."

Their shape was somewhat familiar: "Berix has them too, I think."

"I think everybody gets them - Agori, Glatorian, Skrall..."

"They are pretty useful," the Toa nodded.

He couldn't really imagine how they could have managed to stick armor to themselves otherwise. Maybe through some cloth? But then it might chafe their joints, and they'd have to find a way to insert it in the metal anyways...

He hummed thoughtfully, wracking his brain as he tried at once to figure out both the logistics of putting armor on fully organic beings and whatever was wrong with the implant.

So concentrated he was that he actually jumped a little when the pipe gently smacked his shoulder.

Tarix had a strange look on his face as he pointed down at a spot on his prosthesis: "Don't - it's nothing to be worried about yet, just, watch it," he warned, "That coil there you've got near your index, she's real frisky. Won't be a problem now that it's taken apart, but when you stick it back together you'd better avoid even just so much as grazing it - it'll pull my calf back at top speeds to kick my ass. Been like that since the start."

"Oh! Sounds painful."

"It is!"

With a hand already rummaging through a box of springs, Nuparu offered: "Since I'm here already, I could replace that..."

"Ah, there's no need really," the Glatorian quickly stopped him.

"But it's a liability."

"If it's out in the open like this, yeah, but - well, when it's covered it's a lot more manageable, and the wires-"

"It's still a malfunction. I can fix that without any trouble."

"I get it, but it's - I - hm! Let me explain. See, when - if I cover it up, see, with my-"

"The fake flesh?"

"Yes, that - it still jerks back if touched, but not as hard, you get me?"

"But it still does."

"Yes, and here's the - the thing is, I also have my nerves connected, right? Right, and when the coil gets touched and makes my leg jerk, it... Er... See - have you ever - hm! Hmm-hm. Hold on. Do you... Is there something that you know is not good for your body, but when you do it it just feels nice?"

"No."

"Alright, this complicates things."

"Oh! Oh, no, wait - when I cut metal with a saw, I like to keep myself as close to the sparks as possible so they can hit me because they tingle. It's fun. Do you mean like that?"

"Eeeh, close enough! That's what's going on with that coil."

"It tingles?"

"It... Uh... Sure, let's. Call it that."

The change in tone was weird, and he seemed to be somewhat embarrassed about having brought the subject up.

Now, in regards to asking personal questions, Nuparu tended to be as uninterested in other beings' private matter as much as a Kofo-Jaga is in lightstones.

However, this was directly related to the machinations of an impressive, if a little primitive, handmade mechanical joint.

So yes, he would have loved to pry.

The mental manifestation of Turaga Whenua repeatedly smacking him over the head with his drilling staff was currently the only thing keeping him from inquiring on any activities Tarix might have enjoyed dabbling in outside of his work hours, but luckily for the Glatorian that singular imaginary scenario was also an extremely effective deterrent for any Matoran or Toa that had ever at some point of their lives resided in Onu-Koro.

As such, the Toa just shrugged and diverted his attention onto the object the Gaquri was now nervously twisting in his hand: "What's that, by the way?"

The total swerve in subject matter destabilized the Glatorian briefly. He looked down at his fingers, then back at the Toa.

"A pipe?" he replied.

Nuparu squinted at it a little better: "That does not look like a pipe." he decreted.

Tarix lifted an eyebrow, curiously: "It's just an Agori pipe."

"That's not a pipe," the inventor insisted.

"And how should a proper Toa pipe look like, then?"

"Matoran pipe, maybe-" the Toa scoffed, rolling his eyes and making the other chuckle a bit while the mechanical hands went right back to checking on his implant in the midst of his correction: "First of all, it's far too small to be of any proper use; second, that seems to be made of wood, which is the worst material for this kind of thing - even if you could fit that tiny piece in a proper hydraulic system, long time usage will lend it to rot and come apart much faster, which is why we used to trade iron with Le-Koro to avoid the whole village from caving in on--"

"Oh!" Tarix interrupted him all of a sudden, smacking the object on his palm with a hollow sound: "Oh, you meant - no no no, it's not that type of pipe! It's a, uh -- pipa! Nagele! Sghitt!"

"Don't curse at me, please."

"I'm not cursing at you, it's just different names for this! You really don't have a word for-?" then he cut himself off as he seemed to remind himself of something evidently obvious: "Ah - well, I mean, you don't have a mouth, of course you can't smoke..."

"Yes we do."

"You do?"

"Yes? How else would we hold our masks?"

Tarix blinked, briefly wondered if he should have asked, and decided it didn't matter: "But you don't smoke? At all?"

"No? Unless we get catastrophically overheated or are set on fire," Nuparu replied as he attached the disjointed calf into the thigh again. "Both of which in all fairness have happened before. Not very often, but they have happened."

"No, I meant... Ah, hold it, hold it..."

He stuck the unlit pipe back in his mouth, puffing out nothing a few times with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"See - it's a bit like the coil and the sparks again, the matter with smoking," he decided to start explaining: "There's certain plants, if you dry them and burn them well, that make really pleasant smoke."

"How is smoke pleasant?" the Toa muttered.

"The smell can be," the Gaquri shrugged, "And the taste too. Wait-" and he gently knocked the foot of the pipe on the top of the Volitak before the inventor could interrupt him again "-Wait a second, I can't very well clear this up if you keep cutting in. Alright, so the bigger part here, the bowl we call it - you need to press the dried plants in here and light them up, only a little before the whole thing burns up; once they're charred nicely, you inhale through the shank, and then you puff it back out. That's how the smoke gets in your mouth and you can taste it."

"And how does it taste, then?"

"Ah, depends on what you smoke," was the whistful answer. "Same goes for the smell. The Lebori have a certain bark that gets real flexible when wet - they make whole pipes with it, they burn up real well, but it's a bit too sour for me. Before the Shattering there used to be a type of kelp I liked, and Kiina said they had River Eyes up near the Dormus that made some terribly sweet smoke."

"River Eyes?"

"It's a flower! Small, round, blue, and it grows on river banks. Never got to try them, though, and it's better I don't go around asking for some with the lungs I've got. Like I said, smoking's the same as the coil and the sparks: feels good to do, but it's bad for the body."

Nuparu hummed deeply, rummaging inside the knee as he handled the hanging wires carefully.

"I think I figured out the problem," he announced.

At that Tarix perked up: "Rust?"

"One piston has developed a limestone growth that makes it much harder to move properly, and as a result one of the springs is bent out of shape and chafes right against the nerve."

"Ah! Well, damn. You can get limestone in there?"

"If it's humid enough, it can build up over time."

"Hm... Alright, I guess all those years sweating in arenas and whatnot were bound to do the trick eventually."

"Also there was rust."

"Hm. Where?"

"Three screws. I changed them already."

"Wait, really? When?"

"While you were talking about the Core War."

"Huh! You're quick. And quiet."

The Toa shrugged: "I like working."

He pulled the prosthesis apart for a second time, laying the calf down on the floor. He then leaned back to search through a tool box brimming with bits and pieces - bolts, nuts, coils, springs, and all sorts of other things - with what his mask's stillness still managed to convey as a focused furrowed brow, evidently still thinking about what course of action to take now that he had pinpointed the anomaly to fix.

Changing his mind, he stood up and made his way to one of the various piles of junk and assorted more or less useful knicknacks to start looking for something in there instead.

"Speaking of the Core War," he said, implying he wanted to start a conversation but without really adding to that sentence.

Tarix waited a few minutes, puffing out in silence while watching him shift towels or bottles until he found what he was looking for (a clean enough rag and flask containing a murky liquid), before figuring that he was waiting for some kind of permission to continue on the admittedly not particularly pleasant topic: "Yes?"

"You said other older Glatorians also got implants like this from it."

"I implied it, but yes, that's the case."

The Toa hummed as he settled back before him: "And they're all knees, like yours?"

"You want to ask what their own prosthesis are?"

At that, he got no response.

"You can, by the way," Tarix reassured him, "It's been a damn long time by now, it doesn't hurt as much as say, eighty hundred years ago. We've been living like this long enough to joke about the whole thing and whatnot."

Nuparu mumbled something indistict as he soaked up the rag and began scraping the limestone off of the metal with it.

"Don't act all shy now, kid! As I said, it's no trouble." the Glatorian repeated. A sly smile curled the corners of his lip: "You can't get embarrassed like this every time you have to ask about new possible clients, you know," he jokingly reprimanded him, "Otherwise you'll have a hard time getting any."

"I don't want to be paid!" the Toa replied. "I'm just curious, is all! This is... Well, I didn't expect it to be something you'd have."

"Oh, don't worry, not everybody's missing a whole chunk of leg like me," Tarix chuckled. "We Glatorian like to keep ourselves distinct from one another."

"In implant too?"

"Of course! Let me think, now..."

He inhaled a long breath through his pipe, leaning back a little as the kid continued on with his work, and exhaled with a whistle.

"So, let's see - Vastus, he's got a good chunk of his lower spine replaced and, oh, 'bout three quarters of his intestines," he began: "Kiina had her hip crushed and put back together, and that should be... Ah, nope, nope, half of her left hand and the whole ulna too. Telluris I haven't see in a long while now, but unless he's figured out how to place his brain in a tin can I'd bet his head's all that's left. Certavus, bless his memory, I don't think he had a single original organ left by the end, and Gelu's got bionic feet - one foot, one leg, right, a whole leg, so then Strakk was the one who got his eye shot out and his nose crushed. And the jaw, of course. I don't remember if it was him or Malum who cracked his head but I do think it was him, because Malum had the femur that got split in half and it worsened with that problem with his ribcage where the metal was corroding and messing with his blood... Which is why he had to get his marrow replaced in his leg later on. Oh, and Ackar also had to... Ah, wait, which one was it? Right, right. Ackar, poor guy, his back itself is worse than a Plude street but his real problem's his right shoulder blade, which got essentially pulverized - I was there, ghastly sight - so they had to replace the whole thing, and that was bad enough; but then, and this is the fucked thing, the implant actively degraded the rest of the arm, so he had to keep replacing bits and pieces of it until it was just completely gone."

Nuparu lifted his head, eyes wide and flabbergasted: "The fixing made it worse?"

"It did! He kept having trouble moving it."

"How?"

Tarix raised his shoulders: "Beats me," he replied just as baffled. "It's a common thing for Tapyri, honestly. It's hard to tell if the material's bad quality or has trouble with the heat. Perditus too - after he got half his leg replaced, the damn thing somehow managed to melt halfways and left him limping almost worse than he would if he just didn't have it."

"And he can't replace it?"

"It's grafted onto the bone and the muscle has grown over it. They'd have to carve the whole thing out with it, it's just not worth it."

The Toa stared at him positively appalled.

"That is horrid," he spat, punctuating the adjective with a harsh yank of his hand over the faulty piston, thus launching a loosened piece of limestone to skid across the floor.

"You're tellin' me, kid."

"That's - it's inadmissible. It's insane."

"And I haven't told you about the Agori."

"What about the Agori? Were they fighting too? Do they-?"

"No, not fighting, usually - it's something we got in common with your lot: we're basically the same species, but we are much bigger and they're much nimbler. So you had us larger folk tearing one another to bits properly, while they tended to work as scouts if they weren't busy trying to put us back in one piece."

The Gaquri interrupted himself to stretch his arms up, pulling one towards his head.

The movement produced a loud 'crock!' roughly around the height of his shoulder, followed by much softer pops crackling all the way up towards his wrist as it twisted.

Satisfied with the sound (which instead made the inventor a little uneasy considering their conversation), he moved to massage the sides of his spine with his knuckles, rolling his neck: it seemed to make a curious ticking noise in place of a meatier sound, filling in the quick pauses of Nuparu's rag scrubbing the limestone away.

At last he puffed into his unlit pipe: "If you look at the older ones - the Agori, I mean - you'll see they've got less lower half than upper."

"That makes no sense."

"It does if you don't count implants. We've got them a bit everywhere, I told you, but an Agori with an arm prosthesis is a real rarity. They've got them mostly between their soles and the top of their hipbones."

"And why's that?"

"It's 'cause the lucky ones stepped on mines."

The Toa hummed thoughtfully.

He did not raise his eyes from the almost clean piston: "And the unlucky ones?"

"Well, we were trained to aim for either the neck or the head."

Ah.

Those certainly had been unlucky.

For every thing Toa and Glatorians seemed to have in common, a complete opposite came around. To imagine a Toa willingly kill was already hard, though not impossible - the Mahri themselves had been met with the chance to do so once or twice, and it had been tantalizing to say the least; but to envision a group of his brothers and sisters being not only instructed but even trained to kill, and especially to kill Matoran...

Well, he was glad he did not live in that kind of world.

"That's just how life is," Tarix sighed in the end. "Nobody wins. They've got their metal hips, and I've got my leg held together by wires and pistons. And an artificial diaphragm."

That snapped Nuparu out of his unpleasant musings: "A what?"

"That one wasn't the war's fault, though - well, it was, but it came in later. See, I had some sharpnel that got stuck in there but nobody noticed, and then one day I got a shove in the wrong spot during a match and just stopped breathing. So I had to get a mechanical one, and when I have to put myself under any sort of strain I need to hook myself up to an oxygen supplier to make sure it doesn't collapse under the effort - you know, that tube thing you might have seen on me, sort of like yours."

"Your gills?"

"I..." the Gaquri briefly did a double take. "You call those gills?"

"Yes?"

They blinked at each other briefly.

"Yeah," Tarix conceded, "Yeah, I guess those would be gills for you folks, huh. Makes sense."

"What was it that you had to replace?"

"My diaphragm."

"What is that?"

"... The muscle?"

"Which muscle?"

"The... The one that makes the... Lungs? Work? I understood you did have lungs?"

"Lungs work on their own."

"No they do not?"

"Yes they do. They are muscles."

"No they are not??"

Before Nuparu could further argue his point by lifting his chest plate and forcing Tarix to behold the disquieting spectacle offered by his very much clearly autonomously moving lungs, the unmistakeable noise of a small variety of hollow brass objects gracelessly crashing on the floor and being hurriedly chased after by stomping feet attracted their attention elsewhere.

Berix did not notice them as immediately as they noticed him, since he was busy making his entrance on all fours as he scrambled to pick up a bunch of scrap metal that had spilled from his arms.

The other two beings made no sound as they watched him curse to himself after stepping on a rogue bolt. They decided to simply observe him in silence much like an equipe of entomologists observes a particularly frenetic spider panicking for some kind of fault in its web, making no motion to lend the young Agori any help as he crawled along the ground to collect the scattered pieces of his scavenged treasure of junk.

It was particularly fascinating when he accidentally shoved several bolts in his mouth to the point of almost stuffing his cheeks with them, realized his mistake, and spat them in what looked like an exhaust pipe.

He almost cried when they fell out of it and rolled away again.

Then he lifted his eyes briefly to the other two silent beings in the room and failed to recognize them.

Meaning he then proceded to jump almost three whole bio straight in the air once he figured there were people looking at him - landing on a screw.

"FUCK!" he whimpered.

Tarix waved: "Hello to you."

"Do you need help?" Nuparu asked with a notable delay.

The Agori kneeled to the ground and skidded across it: "No no no, I'm good! I'm good, I'm - hey, hi, Tarix, hi, when did-? What are you-? Uh," he said nervously as he tried to catch as many nuts and springs as possible, "What is going on there? Is it, did I interrupt or, should- should I leave? Again? Should I leave again?"

"Nuparu's fixing my leg."

At that Berix snapped his head with a deafening gasp to look directly at him, the most betrayed expression to ever grace his face plaster across it.

"But I wanted to do that!" he cried out in anguish like a desert fox cub experiencing the horrors of its mother's tongue bath for the first time: "I told you I could do it, I- I replaced Gresh's ribs and, and I fixed his lungs when the Skrall got him and he hasn't had problems with them since, I told you I could do it, I'm good at fixing-!"

"I know that, and Gresh told me you did real well," the older Gaquri stopped him, "But - don't take it personally, kid, you're good and all, but when it comes to my leg I only trust you as far as I can throw you and believe me, it ain't far."

"But then why does he get to do it!" Berix wailed, pointing at Nuparu still scrubbing off the limestone.

"He's got a whole body like this, I'd imagine he knows what to do."

"But I know what to do too!"

"I told you, I'd rather have a specialist on it."

The Toa briefly wondered if being a descendant of the Water Tribe had something to do with how outstandingly wet Berix could will his eyes to look, or if it was just a specifically Berix thing.

Mabe it was an Agori defense mechanism. After all, it would have been pretty hard to want to hurt something that appeared to be the personification of the verbs 'to whimper', 'to whine', 'to sob', and last but not least 'to wail'.

Whatever the origin of such an expression of anguish, Tarix was not immune to its effects: "Oh, don't be like that," he finally pleaded with a tired but guilty tone, and pointed off to the cluttered desk not too far away: "There, I've got something for you too, alright? I came in 'cause my Thornax launcher's busted and you're the best with 'em. Could you fix that for me? Pretty please?"

That was enough to light the younger being's face up again.

With the sort of excited thin howling laugh that a mischievous ghost might have, he scuttled away to the mess of a table that was the headquarters for most of his projects: onto it he dumped the rest of his scraps, not caring even in the slightest that it only helped to worsen the general situation he already had going on as he was already completely absorbed by the thought of the inner mechanics of the weapon at hand.

The perfectly good chair right beside him thoroughly ignored in favor of sitting on the ground in a curled position that would have made a shrimp suggest booking an osteopathic appointment, he immediately started tinkering around to figure what the problem was with the drive and precision of a blood hound.

That had been perhaps one of the best things their unplanned collaboration had brought Nuparu - aside from all the knick-knacks and thingamajigs and vehicles and tools he'd been able to make or just plan out with the Agori, of course. Watching Berix work on something was such a fun and fascinating experience: his intensity gave his body language a sort of visceral desperation that contrasted his careful fumbling motions, pulling pieces apart with his scarred skeletal fingers and letting them fall all around him as though discarded carelessly - yet he somehow always knew where to search when he needed them again, and if in the middle of his fixer's frenzy you asked him for a specific nut or a gear he could pick it up without even looking, always on the first try. The thunderous act of creation and its rhythmic symphony played on rough instruments whisked the both of them away from the world at large, but when the Toa managed to pull himself back to reality (whether done or stumped or just in need of a break) it was enjoyable if not just all-together mesmerizing to observe the other hard at work on his own project.

A loud bang was not enough to deter him from the launcher either.

The equally loud voice that followed with an exasperated bark did, however: "BERIX! THE DOOR!"

"RIGHT! RIGHT- RIGHT, HOLD ON!" he squeaked hurriedly, abandoning (with a little more care) the weapon to scuttle away as fast as he could to the entrance of their laboratory.

The figure that emerged from the held open door replied to his rambling apologies by grunting every few steps - not without reason, seeing as they were carrying the carcass of an older model of chariot intertwined with some other mean of transport that had clearly gotten lodged sideways in its back, trying to balance the hellish thing on their shoulders in a way not too dissimilar to how a shepherd might carry a too small Mahi tired from a day of running wildly.

The mess of a car accident was dropped rather gracelessly onto the first largest spot of floor available; freed from their herculean weight, the being sighed and pulled back their arms, making the rather dull metal vertebrae poking from their skin creak in a somewhat unsettling fashion.

Nuparu briefly wondered if they were encrusted in limestone too.

They sort of looked like it.

Hm.

Now he had to wonder if it was a common yet not very well-known problem for organic beings with mechanical implants. Maybe it had to do with an excessive production of sweat?

While he was busy pondering that, Tarix grinned at the sight: "Hello, my beautiful wife who sucks at killing me," he crooned lovingly.

Vastus turned to him with a smirk, thin feathers raised and brows slightly furrowed in a manner that was much more fond than annoyed: "Hello, my beautiful husband who can't aim for shit," he replied; upon noticing the Toa kneeled before him, he cheekily added: "Committing adultery, I see?"

His partner wheezed a loud gurgling laugh: "Twelve thousand years we've been married! Twelve thousand years and now you mistake me for Gelu!"

"For who?"

"What, you haven't heard about--?"

"NOT IN FRONT OF MY PROJECTS!" Berix shrieked.

The Lebori chuckled - it was a strange sound, some kind of hiccuping hiss - and reached out to rub his hand all over the younger Gaquri's head; the kid swiveled away from him with a soft rattling noise as his annoyed trembling arms shook his scales against one another, face contorting into a piqued grimace, and returned to the launcher to tinker the other two away from his conscious perception.

"And where'd you get that?" the Glatorian inquired, pointing at it with his chin as it was common to do in his tribe and getting no answer.

"It's mine," his husband reassured him, "He's fixing it."

"Jammed again?"

"Seems like it."

"Bet you just didn't clean it properly."

"You don't know that."

"But I'm right," Vastus teased him as he approached to steal the pipe from his mouth. "And over here, what's going on?"

"He's fixin' up my leg. Nuparu, by the way, that's his name - he's a, ah, Ko- nope, Onu-Toa, he said - thought it was rust but I had limestone in it."

"We can get limestone?"

"Might be the sweating," Nuparu interrupted them suddenly. He fixed his unmoving mask onto the Lebori: "Can you turn around, please?"

Tarix snorted at the other's brief baffled blink: "Hey now, kid, I get you've put your hands in me and all, but you shouldn't go around just checking my wife out like that!"

"NOT! IN FRONT! OF THE PROJECTS!"

The Toa looked between the three of them with no clue what any of them was going on about: "I thought there might have been crusts on the vertebrae," he explained. "Since I have the solvent at hand already, I could handle that already if it's the case..."

"That's what they all say," the Gaquri snickered.

His confusion was palpable.

Vastus flicked a playful finger at his husband's head, warning him: "Berix is gonna kick you out at this rate... But I'm sure it's just some dust, kid, nothing to worry about."

"It still would not hurt to do a simple visual check."

"He's right," Tarix interjected while trying to snatch his pipe back and failing: "Maybe you've been building up a limestone deposit this whole time without knowing it."

"I don't have limestone."

"You don't know that."

Vastus smirked at him as he turned around for Nuparu to check: "But I'm right."

"You can't keep answering that and get away with it."

"I can if I'm always right."

The inventor gave a high pitched hum: "False alarm. That's just dust," he confirmed.

A triumphant grin briefly met the Gaquri's eyes as he rolled them.

Nuparu reached into a box to pull out a short variety of springs in order to compare their size with that of the one that had been bent by the affected piston, now cleaned and hopefully ready to work smoothly; careful not to dislodge anything else, he carefully pried the ill piece out and hooked up its replacement.

Satisfied with how the procedure had done, he pulled himself back a little and announced: "I have another question."

"Shoot," Tarix answered instantly.

"What do 'wife' and 'husband' mean, exactly?"

A hot second of silence passed in which the Glatorian regretted opening his mouth.

He glanced at Vastus.

His wife glanced back.

The quiet persisted.

"We're married," he answered lamely at last.

The question he dreaded slapped him in the face with outstanding punctuality: "And what does that mean?"

Having had his fun of seeing his husband's best full-body impression of a yam turning exponentially smaller when fried to a crisp piece of coal, the Lebori finally intervened: "You folks have contracts?"

"We do."

"Marriage is a contract between people where you become part of one other's family. And tribe, if you're from different ones like us."

A vacuous gaze met his explanation.

"Alright, what's confusing you?"

"The 'becoming part of' thing."

Vastus shrugged, his feathers puffing out for a moment before returning flat in a way similar to how certain avian Rahi did before starting a very long song: "It means we become relatives," he tried again. "Here, look - Tarix is a Gaquri and I'm a Lebori, so my family and hers come from different tribes. By marrying me she became a sort of honorary member of the Jungle tribe, and everybody treats her almost as though she was my brother, or my cousin; in the same manner, I became an honorary member of the Water tribe and I'm treated like her sister or cousin."

"So... It's sort of like assembling a team?" Nuparu tilted his head, puzzled: "There's no need for a contract for that. All Toa consider each other siblings already."

The other clicked his tongue as though he'd bitten it by accident: "I shouldn't have used that metaphor," he muttered.

"Why not?"

"First of all marrying your actual blood-siblings is frowned upon."

"Why? What's a blood-sibling?"

"I'll tell you when you're older. Secondly, I can assure you marriage is nothing like siblinghood."

At that, the Toa frowned: "It sounds the same to me."

"Your knee and Tarix's look the same to me, too," Vastus argued: "They're both made of metal, so they're the same thing."

"They really aren't." then he blinked, bright eyes flashing briefly, looked to the ceiling to recollect his thought, gave a loud hum, and met his gaze again: "I see your point."

The Glatorian smiled: "Good kid."

"Back to the point - how do 'wife' and 'husband' fit with all that?"

"That's just how you call someone who's married."

"So they're synonyms?"

"Yes, pretty much."

The answer seemed to satisfy the inventor greatly.

"I'm learning so much about your species today," he commented in a giddy tone. He returned to the discarded robot calf on the floor, dusting off its mechanical parts to make sure not even small amounts of debris would interefere with its functions; just as he plucked it back into the bulk of the implant, he looked again at the two Glatorian and told them with complete and total earnestness: "You know, if you were significantly smaller, quadrupedal, perhaps vaguely insectoid and incapable of speech, Turaga Whenua would have the best day of his life writing down and trying to decypher your absolutely incomprehensible habits."

That was the highest compliment an Onu-Matoran from the island of Mata Nui could bestow upon someone.

It was not categorizable as such by perhaps any other being in the entire universe, considering the source of such an idiom had been cut off from all other known civilizations and it was generally not considered particularly flattering to be told that you would make for a great petri dish for one's paternal figure to microscope if you were any less sentient, but luckily his tone did manage to properly convey the positive nature of his otherwise insane sentence.

So instead of knocking his head off with roundhouse kick, Tarix and Vastus smiled awkwardly in an attempt at not laughing in his face and just replied: "Thanks."

His Volitak did not have a mouth, but Nuparu's grin was blinding.

Berix chose that moment to shriek triumphantly.

"Fixed!" he declared, Thornax launcher hoisted into the air like it was the second making of the Element Lords.

The older Gaquri turned to him with eyes wide: "What, already?"

"It was encrusted with Thornax juice!"

Not even the time to feel bashful about such a silly and easy to fix thing hindering his battling performance so much that his wife was already leaning down into his line of sight with a smirk so wide that he could have just bitten his whole head off with it.

"What did I say?" he teased.

Tarix sighed, a weary smile on his face: "You cannot keep getting away with this."

"Yes I can," Vastus gloated, "If I'm always right."

[gale-dekarios]

im not saying all of my posts are bangers, but its hard not to notice that posts i make about other companions easily break 100 notes no sweat, with the upper limit breaching 1k, to outliers of well over 4k, but whenever it's about wyll, it's crickets. i dunno, youre allowed to interact with anything you want to, and this isnt a call to reblog from me, specifically, this is the same for a lot of wyll orientated posts ive seen, but its just odd. and by odd i mean racist.

[thelaurenshippen]

genuinely think it's good and healthy to follow at least one person in each of your fandoms who reblogs good gifsets but has just...absolutely dogshit takes on the show, or who ships that ship you despise. keeps things fresh. keeps things grounded. you gotta stay humble

[thedisablednaturalist]

Tw for weight loss mention

The whole exercise will cure your disability thing is a fucking joke. Yes exercise is beneficial for your health, but only if you aren't already on shaky foundations. You need to be on a treatment plan that WORKS before going into the maintenance phase. You wouldn't do regular maintenance on a broken item, you'd work on getting it up and running first. And maybe it would even need specialized maintenance afterwards if it's especially fragile.

I have fibromyalgia and acute degenerative disc disease. My immune system attacks my nerves and discs in my spine are slowly calcifying and causing the bones to constrict and damage my nerves (i think thats how it works). I have days where it feels like my body is on fire from nerve pain and days where it feels like my spine is about to rip from my back. And days where I have both (like today!). I get numbness in my hands and feet. I have horrible migraines. I can no longer walk unaided more than maybe 5 minutes without severe pain. I have something wrong with my knees and hips but the doctors don't know what yet.

You'd think I live an obviously seditary lifestyle correct?

Hell no.

I walk aided on average 6 miles a day over difficult terrain OUTSIDE of regular activity almost everyday. My legs are muscular and strong. I get my heart rate up and a good sweat, like all the gym rats swear on. I am often doing physical labor such as weeding, digging, sample collecting, pruning trees etc.

I'm not saying this to make other disabled people feel bad or prove that they can do anything if they just tried harder. This is an extremely painful lifestyle I've chosen that takes a lot of lifestyle management AND BOUNDARIES to keep up with the work. I also have an extremely forgiving boss who is also physically disabled and knows what I'm going through (deciding between your passion and your health and having to do so each and every day) No one should ever be expected to do what I do. I'm not even sure if I should be doing this myself.

This is to prove that exercise? Has not cured me. My muscles are strong but still hurt as if they're broken and I have to take more breaks than my coworker. I am constantly getting out of breath and I flare up regularly if I'm not careful. I am in excellent physical condition outside of my disabilities. I go to different doctors several times a month to get checked out.

I previously went through a diet program and lost a lot of weight (basically starving myself and got off my depression meds which cause weight gain but are also the only ones that work) and guess what? That didn't do shit either!!! I still felt horrible!!! I've since gained back the weight anyway after switching to focusing on adding more nutrient dense foods than taking stuff away from my diet (also muscle weighs more than fat, and fat helps cushion my aching joints and spine).

The muscle doesn't do shit for my disabilities outside of maybe some stability. Exercising everyday doesn't make the pain go away. Without my medications and aids and nutrition plans and steroid injections and spinal adjustments and physical therapy (that takes my fibro and spine into account) and alternative work methods I WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO DO WHAT I DO. Exercise alone is like trying to make a car run with no oil. Yes it'll go but it'll get more and more damaged till it can't and will need its entire engine replaced!

And yet I see new doctors and they look at me and the first thing out of their mouths is do I exercise? I should try doing a little every day :) and then i fucking blow their minds when I tell them about my job. No longer can they use that fucking cop out on me. I've been through this rodeo. Ive tried their suggestions. If you are in pain and nothing is helping? Exercise ain't going to do SHIT. You need to get to a point where you can move without severe pain first (if that's even possible). Then and only then should you consider implementing regular exercise if you can. Also weight loss talk is a red flag and a cop out. They made me lose 50+ lbs before they would look into the reasons behind my pain. Weight loss did nothing for me and exacerbated my pain.

I am living proof that all that shit is a lie and a cop out. That is the point of this post. I cannot believe people with serious medical conditions are being forced to put their bodies through extreme duress just to be believed. You are not disabled because of laziness or because you sit a lot. Plenty of people live seditary lifestyles and do not live in constant excruciating pain (they may develop disabilities later in life due to this however, and should be doing preventative exercises to maintain their health)

Please, share my story with doctors. Use me as an example. I am proof that "exercise first treat later" does not work. I should not have had to wait years to have my pain validated. I'd rather hundreds of fakers get (what? A blood test? An MRI?) than one chronically ill person get told to try yoga and go away by a doctor.

[ohithankyou]

.

[kideternity]

Hi, I know this isn’t what I usually tend to post, but I thought this was important to share. Long time comic book writer Len Kaminski, most notably the author behind venom: the hunger, is currently without stable housing or income and is looking for a new place to live. The gofundme attached goes into more detail about his situation. I wanted to help spread the word since he’s one of my favourite comic book writers and it’s really fucked up to see that this has happened to him, so if you’re able to, please donate or at least spread the word

[lesbiancarat]

want to give my two cents on the AI usage in the maestro trailer--

i think seventeen doing a whole concept that is anti-AI is very cool, especially as creatives themselves i think it's good that they're speaking up against it and i hope it gets more ppl talking about the issue. i also understand on a surface level the artistic choice (whether it was made by the members, the mv director, or whoever else), to directly use AI in contrast to real, human-made visuals and music in order to criticize it. i also appreciate that they clearly stated the intention of the use of AI at the beginning of the video

however, although i understand it to an extent, i do not agree with the choice to use AI to critique AI. one of the main ethical concerns with generative AI is that it is trained on other artists' work without their knowledge, consent, or compensation. and even when AI generated images are being used to critique AI, it still does not negate this particular ethical concern

the use of AI to critique also does not negate the fact that this is work that could have been done by an actual artist. i have seen some people argue that it's okay in this context because it's a critique specifically about AI, and it is content that never would have been done by a real artist anyway because it doesn't make sense for the story they're trying to tell. but i disagree. i think you can still tell the exact same story without using AI

and in fact, i would argue that it would make the anti-AI message stronger if they HAD paid an artist to draw/animate the scenes that are supposed to represent AI generated images. wouldn't it just be proof that humans can create images that are just as bad and nonsensical and soulless as AI, but that AI can't replicate the creativity and beauty and basic fucking anatomy that's in human-made art?

it feels very obvious this was not just a way to cut corners and costs like a lot of scummy people are using AI for. ultimately it was a very intentional creative decision, i just personally think it was a very poor one. and even if some ethical considerations were taken into account before this decision, i certainly don't think all of them were. at the very least i feel like the decision undermines the message they want to convey

i would also like to recognize that i myself am not an artist, and i have seen some artists that are totally on board with the use of AI in this specific context, so clearly this is not a topic that is cut and dry. but generative AI is still new, and i think it's important to keep having these conversations

[crossbackpoke-check]

Why I Am Not Coming In To Work Today [abridged], Jess Zimmerman

part one | part two