#like you don't need to read this just be proud of me

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Okay, so, the ask about yandere platonic dick cheating and how the reader would react has me wondering; what would happen if the reader somehow found out that Dick didn't actually change and decided to go no contact, because they couldn't trust him or maybe because they just don't want to be around someone like that? Would that cause Dick to spiral more? What exactly would be the consequences of going no contact? (Like a complete cut off, although it'd be a bit hard to do that since they live in the same house)

(I was a bit disappointed to read that he probably wouldn't change, but it seemed realistic to me because habits are hard to break and everyone in the batfam is messed up. Although, I imagine after years of therapy or something similar there might be some sort of change. But, I doubt anyone in the batfam is getting therapy... except maybe reader)

Sorry yeah, i don't like to think Dick is actually a cheater or this shitty. I just like to humor different scenarios i get requested. But you cannot deny that this man is a messy whore. THIS IS THE FACE OF EVILLL

context

Look, cheaters are so sloppy. Even the ones who put the most effort into it are always bound to slip up. I imagine batsis isn't a fool. Like Richard...no way did you just go from being a serial cheater to suddenly being completely cleansed. You're an addict baby boy.

Like i said at first he's actually wanting to get clean for his baby sis and to be a good role model. I think it'd be very obvious to you that he's actually trying. He's irritable and really struggling to cope with the fact he has to put the phone down. You can see him obsessively checking his phone for what you'd assume to be a message or notification from one of his hookups. You can tell he's torn up about loosing his partners because he came clean about his unethical practices....

There's no hiding. This is such a deep seeded issue and it is really taking a toll on him. This is something like you said will need YEARS of therapy to fix.

So now Dick is trying to bullshit you a few days later...right in front of your salad! He's just sooo happy and he's proud about this new leaf turned????? Yesterday he looked like he was about to breakdown in tears because he'd been abstinent for just 48 hrs...and now he's glowing???

Dick, your patrol ended at 2 am last night...you came home at 6 am...please don't play with me rn.

not me getting heated. lol

He doesn't explicitly tell you he's back to his old ways. He's willing to keep lying his way into keeping you and this habit but it's undeniable. You know that his gf only forgave him because he lied to her too. It makes you sick when you saw the text of him telling her that he's busy with family and then left out for the rest of the day to go be with someone else.

Maybe you explode on him about it? Last time you were as nice as you could be about it but you cannot deal with the games anymore.

I liked to think in this scenario you're yelling at him and he's just still gas-lighting you, He throws every card to make you feel bad for accusing him. It absolute drives you mad. He's just so calm while you're are trying not to strangle him.

"Baby bat, i love you. I think you're just tired and are imagining things. You're convincing yourself that i'm still the old Dick because you're hurting...i understand and I forgive you. Maybe we should set up therapy sessions to help you let go of the past? Hmm?"

"YOU MOTHER FU-"

Ugh but i love him he's so fucked

The irony of him suggesting you therapy when he's the one riddles with mommy issues and the most insane coping mechanisms...

Dick isn't going to allow you to go no contact. You cannot go no contact with someone you live in the same house with. You are bound to interact and when you are dealing with someone like dick...it just won't work. The bat kids are extremely resilient and are well versed in making someone crack. You wouldn't be the exception.

More realistically you'd probably just be cold towards Dick. That's the best you can do. Not really responding to him and basically stone walling...

But i imagine this version of Dick to be much more forceful. He's done with your self righteousness. How dare you suggest moving out. That isn't an option because he needs to see his baby sister everyday. You are breaking up the family over this. You cannot cut him off because he's flawed...it's not that serious y/n. None of the other siblings are breathing down his neck. Maybe if you weren't so frustrating..he could actually become a better person. You are the one that is preventing him from being better with all your pressure!!

You packed your bags and are fully ready to walk out of this family for good because there's just too many wrong doings swept under the rug and here comes dick who is FUMING... He's trying to rip your bags out of your hands and grab you up..

You are not doing this to him. Stop being so-

Maybe your siblings step in and help you to leave. They help Dick calm down because they respect that it's your choice to live how you'd life.

Dick isn't stopping once you're gone. Especially if you're still in Gotham. There's a shadow that follows you where you go. Tons of messages and calls from unknown numbers. Even scarily enough..a blue toy bird left at your door with a small note that read

"Missed me, my little birdie? We'll be seeing each other again soon."

[smiletimeisrunningout]

Ben's words and expression reminded Emma of the way he spoke of his youth, of his lack of experience with women, how he believed himself to be not quite the looker as a boy. He clearly didn't enjoy being easily embarrassed now, especially when it came to bedding people, and she knew as a man he'd hardly find people encouraging that side of him. It was so silly, to think of how they were encouraged to act like they had no weaknesses, and she may have felt the same about the matter, had she not been raised by a man like her father.

"Make no mistake, I would not want you to be any different," she decided to say then, bringing a hand to his cheek and cupping it gently, "Even the parts of you I can't read because I'm all sorts of confused by my own feelings. If you'll ever choose to come home with me, you'll be welcomed to spend your days reading to kids and looking for new poems and books. You'll never have to be calm and collected unless you wish to be."

Although there was something funny about thinking of Ben living the life of retirement and lazy days that she had planned for her hypothetical future old husband, and instead of that happening because she only needed a husband to have her throne it would be because she had a husband she liked.

"Or you could do whatever you want, I'm making it sound like I'm going to... hold you hostage like some sort of beauty in the tower." God, she had almost said 'marry you'. So much for going as slow as possible. "I just meant to say that I don't want you to change one bit for me, I like you the way you are. Besides the part where you grow double the patience you have now, so you can withstand my moods."

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad, I would love for you to show me and prove me wrong."

"The side of my bed has a few canvas, you have my permission to check because they are landscapes and, unlike faces, they actually look decent," she offered, adjusting her position on the bed; it hurt, again, and Emma wondered how long it would take before she'd be able to just kiss him as much as she'd like. He was so interested, and so damn kissable. "The next time I'm not dying and we can go out, we'll find a place where I can sing, then. I doubt the rest of your army would be keen. They have more important things to deal with... you don't, anymore, because you have chosen to court me and you must act accordingly," she teased, giving his cheek a light tap.

"I'll finally convince you that books aren't so bad -- or at the very least, listening along to a good story?"

"See, the compromise is right there: you read a book you like, you tell me about it. Much better if you want me to pay attention from beginning to end. Plus, it won't harm me like reading. The headaches just aren't worth it, when I can be told the story." She was surprised whenever she met people who were so dedicated to books; her father loved reading, but he didn't have enough time to do so, so she figured he didn't have to battle with the inevitable headaches as much, but August and Ben? Masochists.

I'm not so sure I can reciprocate, but that's because I only tend to fall into bed with those I...w-well, I prefer meaning to my dalliances-" "Oh, sweetie," she whispered, smiling in reassurance. "-And clearly, I hadn't found that before you, since you were...y-you were my... My first."

"No, I know that, and that's lovely, really. I would never expect you to drop your values for me," she assured him, "There is nothing wrong with you waiting, you know that. In fact, you should be proud: you did it the way you wanted, when you wanted, and not because you felt you had to. That takes guts. I may not share the... uh... philosophy behind it, but I will defend it until the end of days." Though it was still odd to her that he hadn't been taken aback by her history. "I don't... I think I don't really kiss much, if there is no feeling behind it? Even if, in my case, generally the feeling was friendship, I suppose to me it's kissing that required some meaning. It feels so intimate. Like holding hands."

She took his hand, not just to make a point but to feel just how natural it was. She may lay with a stranger, but she certainly would not hold hands with him.

"In fact, I've been told I'm rather hotheaded, and despite my father's valiant efforts, I'm not the best with sharing, either. Not that I intend to."

Her gasp was far too intrigued, "You are jealous?" she asked in delight, "Oh, that sounds fun. We have to revisit that once I have healed enough... Naturally, you know you don't need to worry about me looking at other men, I find the thought of cheating repulsive." That and when she had met Selah Strong in passing and had properly ogled him, she had almost died on the spot after Caleb had explained he was married to their friend Anna. Her horror at having looked at the man for too long had even entertained James, who had apparently expected her 'not to care' on account of her being 'so carefree', which he had not meant as an insult, but had horrified her even more. No, taken men were off-limits, and so was she as a taken woman. "But if you wish to deck someone because they cross a line with me or something of the sort, please make sure I'm there."

"Perhaps my fear made you appear more... calm and collected about the whole ordeal than you actually were," she suggested, which wasn't an unfair assumption. "I do hope I'll get to see that... gollumpus you speak of. He seems just my type."

Benjamin grinned, his eyes shining self-consciously. "Trust me: no one has ever called me calm and collected, and least especially when it comes to protecting those I love. But if my gollumpus side is the one you're yearning for, I just might have some competition on my hands."

All the naked things?

Yet again, Benjamin felt a damnable spread of heat searing across his face as he laughed, darting his eyes in between her face and the ground. He wasn't sure why after all this time he was still shy at such talk -- especially since she'd never exactly been withholding when it came to her candidness -- but with a shake of his head, he softly reassured, "No, I...w-well, according to Caleb, I'm very much like an open book. If I like someone, or dislike them, it's plain as day... But apparently not to those who truly matter."

Emma was quick to dismiss any artistic pursuits. Despite her typical self-deprecation (something that he, himself, tended to mirror in his own behavior), Benjamin found himself laughing at the idea. "Oh, come on, it can't be that bad," he said. "I would love for you to show me and prove me wrong."

When she brought up singing, he perked up. "I've heard you were fond of it," he allowed, "but I've never actually been privy to a concert. I was always out and about, or busying myself with papers, and...other tasks."

It occurred to him then that Emma wasn't wholly privy to the ring. Perhaps he should tell her someday, he thought, if she wished to be given the ultimate sign of his trust and admiration.

Seemingly oblivious to his inner conflict, Emma continued, "Considering that, it's odd that I miss painting. But I... like the idea of doing that while you read... doing that sort of thing together, as in sharing a room. Or tent, in this case."

"I like that too," Benjamin softly reassured. "And maybe one day, one day, I'll finally convince you that books aren't so bad -- or at the very least, listening along to a good story?"

Emma appeared rather embarrassed, but before he could ask what he'd done, she was quick to turn around and embarrass him. "I assure you," she coyly said, "had you been inclined, I would have taken you to bed long before knowing you as a person. Just because of your looks. Multiple women being interested in you is not out of the realm of possibilities."

"I...thank you?" Benjamin stammered, his brows scrunching with a self-conscious chuckle. "I'm not so sure I can reciprocate, but that's because I only tend to fall into bed with those I...w-well, I prefer meaning to my dalliances. And clearly, I hadn't found that before you, since you were...y-you were my..." Awkwardly, he waved a hand before shyly concluding, "My first."

Emma rattled off all the ways other women could be jealous -- the idea seemed absurd to him, if he was being honest -- yet she was quick to denounce such thoughts. "That sounds horrible," she decided. "I hope my status will scare them away. You are lucky no one has tried to woo me here so you don't need to witness it, but I'll have to prepare so I can have a proper ladylike reaction, it's not as if I can fight them, they are ladies."

Benjamin scoffed. "You are lucky for that, too," he challenged. "I confess, I've never had to keep menfolk away from a woman, but I do know I'm not much for jealousy. In fact, I've been told I'm rather hotheaded, and despite my father's valiant efforts, I'm not the best with sharing, either. Not that I intend to." He flashed a lopsided smile. "I'll share your time here and there, but anything else risks that gollumpus we talked about coming into play."

[momentomori24]

This may just be me, but I think if you ship a canonically very abusive, manipulative and toxic relationship, you don't get to judge or call anyone degenerates for their own fucked up ships, actually.

[moe-broey]

THE PROTOTYPE MOE............... 👁️👁️

[tarabyte3]

Amalia, omg, THANK YOU my dear friend 🥹💕

The imagery of water all throughout is so beautiful it’s like you captured the sea as its own character, incredibly powerful and deadly bringing these two together and at the same time almost parting them forever

Yes!! Thank you because that is exactly what I was going for and I'm relieved it came through! I wanted to ascribe a consciousness or intent so that everyone reading felt some degree of the helplessness the characters feel. Because water is such a big thing. It's crucial to our existence and there's so much symbolism associated with it—and the ocean in particular—it’s cleansing and healing, it's birth and rebirth, it’s a reflection of our emotions, it's chaos and power, a force of nature, and it's death, the great equalizer. Something you can be lost to. Just the phrase they use for boats and planes that disappear, “lost at sea,” has always been so chilling and heavy to me. Because we know they aren't lost, not really. And I wanted to play with that idea of lost and found.

And of course, in all of my Kino fics, I always focus on the inside of the prison, but I wanted to finally delve into the line “I can't swim” and what that means for him. Kino’s struggle doesn't end at the front door, you know? So I wanted to write something that embodied all the depth and impact of that line. Something deserving of it, like a love letter to the character. So when this idea hit me, I jumped on it!

Omg Kino’s stubbornness. 😮‍💨🫠 We saw what he was like with Cassian when he thought he was right, so I can just imagine how infuriating he can be when he sets his mind to it. (Which HAS to occasionally translate into angry sex where he's tender and apologetic for being an ass afterwards 😏 It has to, I know it does) But you're absolutely correct, it's also such a coping mechanism for him. It's easier to be a stubborn old man when you're already in so much pain and turmoil and you don't want any more 😭 That man needs a hug!!!

The kiss, yes! Exactly! He just went for it when he saw any softness and vulnerability in her because, like her, he's been starved for it, too. It was easy to hold back while they were in prison and when they were constantly fighting. They both just needed a gap in the armor, or a weakness in the seawall if you will. And I'm so glad you liked that line, “He tastes like drowning.” Because that was one of my all time favorite bits!! I was so proud of it, so it makes me very happy someone else appreciated it 🥹

Him blanketing her: I wanted more of that juxtaposition, even in the smut! Warmth and cold, soft and hard, distance and intimacy. There's so much they want to explore and feel, but they're in a cave and desperate, so the environment and their own emotions are working against them. But all that tenderness is still there beneath the surface! There's potential and promise in it. They’ve survived. They will continue to survive!

Thank you so much for your kind words, omg. 😭🙏 You're so sweet!! I’m going to cherish this forever. And while I wanted this to be a love letter to Kino as a character, I also write for all of you as a thank you for your community and your support and for inspiring me so much with your thoughts, ideas, and our old man thirst hours. 💖🫶 So thank you again!

Remember You Are Half Water

Pairing: Kino Loy x f!Reader

(7.2 k words)

AO3 link

Summary: Drowning is easy. It's surviving that's hard. Or: After the prison break, you and Kino hide out on Narkina 5.

Warnings: (18+) Explicit, angst, enemies to lovers (kind of), they argue and not in the flirty way, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, grim realism, survival situation, descriptions of drowning, descriptions of resuscitation, cpr, thoughts of death, thoughts of dying, talk of dying, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of imprisonment, themes of death, themes of drowning, description of pain, dreams, nightmares, illness, self-indulgent melancholia

A/N: I accidentally wrote this after getting a random idea in my head while working on I Want You to Show Me Weak (my brain will do anything but finish a fic 😌), so have a surprise Kino oneshot. Just please mind the tags, especially with the events currently happening in the real world. This isn't a dark fic, but the tone is quite grim. (Mostly. I am still a filthy hopeless romantic, after all.) Also, I'm well aware of what Narkina 5 is supposed to look like, however I simply Do Not care 😌

Fic title is from The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood. Collage quote from Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Ocean.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

- e.e. cummings, maggie and milly and molly and may

Your lungs burn.

There's a weight across your shoulders, pulling you down and under the waves. Your arms are spent and heavy with exhaustion. You have no idea how long you’ve been swimming—dragging something through the water, but your muscles are on fire. Your lungs are on fire. It would be so easy to just give up.

To just let go.

Because you're so tired. You’ve heard drowning isn't so bad. Like going to sleep, they say. You can do that. That's nothing compared to this.

You catch sight of a face at your side, barely breaching the surface. His face. His eyes are closed and his mouth is slack. Like he's sleeping.

You go back to swimming.

“Breathe, goddamn you!” You sob. Even though you're numb from the cold, your hand is trembling as you pound against his back with your fist. Between the shoulder blades, behind his lungs. Every hit makes a wet slap. His white uniform is soaked through and nearly translucent. It clings to him. The water, greedy, still won't let him go. “Don't you fucking do this, you prick! Wake up!”

He doesn't flinch under your assault. Not even when you roll him back over onto the rocky sand and press a rhythm into his ribs.

This is worse, you think, because now you can see his face and feel the ghost of his angry stare, even through his closed eyelids. His skin is grey and clammy, his lips nearly blue, and his beard and hair are slick and dark with water. His expression is relaxed. Peaceful. Not asleep. He's never looked like that before. This isn't how he's supposed to look.

The only movement beneath your hands is the jolt of his body from the compressions.

You let out a scream of frustration.

The waves lap at your face, forcing salt up your nose on an inhale. You splutter, losing your grip on that arm slung around your shoulders, and for a moment it slips. You kick frantically at the water as you scramble for him.

“No—” Your voice gets choked off by the whitecap of another wave.

You grab at his face, drive it back above the surface, even as you plunge below it. Whatever else you were going to shout is lost in a cloud of bubbles. You're the only thing keeping him from sinking to the bottom now. Just you, clinging to the hope of life.

You can't think about that dead weight.

You fight back to the surface with a cough, spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. You have to keep moving. You have to keep—

You’re being shaken awake. The hand on your shoulder is warm, but the grip is almost harsh—unforgiving as the fingers dig into your flesh.

You blink your eyes open to find Kino staring down at you with a frown. The light from the small fire throws shadows across his face and deepens the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth and along his forehead, making him look even more severe than he usually does.

“You were dreaming again,” he grumbles. Then he releases your shoulder without warning, nearly shoving away from you in the process, and he shuffles back across to his side of the small cave to resume lying down.

Now that you're conscious, all of your injuries and pains from the past few days come rushing back to fill your awareness. You let out a groan as you push yourself up off the cold stone floor. Not that sitting is any better—there’s a rock digging into your ass to prove your point, and you send it skittering. It doesn't make a difference. With a sigh, you rub the heels of your hands into your heavy eyelids in an attempt to clear the blurriness from your vision.

“Sorry,” you try, your voice hoarse with sleep. You quickly clear your throat and try again. “Didn't mean to wake you.”

He only grunts in response.

The sky at the mouth of the cave is a slate grey. It’s been raining the last few days—as if the water is trying to follow you ashore—so you aren't sure if the muted light is the growing dawn or due to the thick storm clouds that leave the landscape darkened, no matter where the sun is overhead. It's made everything damp and chilly, and you can feel it in every joint and bone. Between that, your desperate and adrenaline fueled escape from the prison, nearly drowning, and laying on the hard, rocky ground, your entire body aches.

You're both still wearing your white and orange uniforms, though they're worn and filthy now. More brown than white. The fabric is also next to useless outside of a temperature controlled environment, but you have nothing else to keep you warm and nothing at all for your feet. You’d gotten lucky that there had been driftwood piled inside the seaside cave, brought in by the tide and left safe from the rain. Kino had found several more pieces along the beach on that first day and dragged them into the shelter to dry out. Neither of you dared to venture any further afterwards, either from fear or exhaustion.

The last of the wood is burning between you, and, when it’s gone, there won't be anything left to keep the chill at bay. You know you’ll have to recommend sharing body heat at some point soon, but you're reluctant to do so because you also know it won't go over well. You're certain it's the last thing he wants, even if the alternative is stubbornly dying from exposure.

“Think they’ve moved on yet?” You ask, just to have something to distract you from your thoughts.

“Doubt it,” he replies in that gruff voice.

“Yeah,” you sigh. You slump forward and let your forearms rest on your knees, suddenly weary. “But we're going to have to leave eventually. We need food and real shelter.”

“You’re too weak to walk it,” he says to the cave wall.

“I’m fine,” you insist.

Kino's head whips around, and he meets your eyes with a glare. “No, you're not.” You let out a noise of disgust before you can reconsider, and his jaw clenches in response. “You nearly died.”

“Don’t start this again.” You mean it as a plea, but it comes out merely resigned in your exhaustion. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had this argument since you first woke up to him coughing and shouting on the beach. You don't want to have it again.

“Like you’d listen anyway,” he says. And then he scowls, like you're the problem.

Alright, maybe you'll have it one more time.

“Gods, that bit of power really did go straight to your thick skull didn't it?” You laugh in disbelief. “Why can't you just accept that it was my choice? Mine!”

“I’m well aware of your poor decision making!” He shoots back. Then he sits up to face you, and now it's a proper fight, you think. “I’ve already told you, no one was supposed to die because of me!”

“And I already told you to get over yourself!” You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Do I look fucking dead to you? Hmm?”

“Don't act like it wasn't a close call!”

“I never said it wasn't.” You pinch at the bridge of your nose in an attempt to keep your frustration at bay. Screaming won't make him listen to reason, no matter how good it will feel. “What would you have had me do, Kino? Just let you drown?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation.

“Well, I didn't.” Your arm flops to your side, too heavy to hold up now. “So maybe you should just consider being fucking grateful instead.”

“I didn't ask for this!” He snaps. It's followed by an immediate look of regret.

Oh. That's new. You take a moment to study his face—the way he can suddenly no longer meet your eyes, like he's ashamed of all things.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You ignore his sardonic, “You.”

Because you don't understand him. Is he really this upset or his pride so wounded over the fact that he needed to be saved? Is he truly this angry just because someone—or more specifically you—saw him when he was weak after being in control for so long? Those are convenient reasons. They're probably even contributing to his horrid mood, but they don't feel as if they’re the reason. It's almost as if—

“You wanted to die.” The shocked realization tumbles from your lips before you can stop it.

There's a long, deafening beat of silence.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” he says quietly as he gathers those strong arms around himself and crosses them like a shield.

Part of your mind is screaming at you to just drop it. You’ve entered new territory. You've never made him defensive like this before, and you don't know how he'll react. But based on all of your previous interactions with him, you know it won't be pleasant. Which is an understatement. The stubborn part of you, however, hopes that this means you're actually making progress. And if you’ve come this far…

“Is that why you won't even try to leave this shit hole again?” You press. “Is that why you're trading one prison for another?”

“That has nothing to do with this,” he says as he narrows his eyes at you, and you're almost disappointed to hear some of his anger returning.

“Yeah right,” you scoff.

“Listen, neither of us is in any condition to evade the searches. All we’re going to accomplish is getting caught.” It sounds almost reasonable, but you know better. You know it for what it really is: a deflection. You did hit a nerve.

“That's only going to get worse,” you argue back. “The lack of food is going to weaken us further, assuming we don't freeze to death first.”

“And it will still be easier if we're not being hunted. We have to be patient,” he says as his frown deepens, frustration beginning to take root once again. “Let them think we’re dead or gone.”

“And how long will that take? Days? Weeks?”

“A hell of a lot longer than three days!”

“Fine. Then we should at least go out and do some scouting so we have an idea of which way to go when the time comes,” you offer instead. “We might even find supplies.”

“It's too risky,” he says dismissively as he waves you off. You bristle against the gesture. “We’re safe here. The cave entrance is hard to find, but if we go in and out too often, we’ll draw attention to ourselves.”

“There's always going to be risk, Kino, whether we leave tonight or a week from now. If we wait, it could be too late,” you point out. “For all we know, the Empire is sending a blockade to keep us all trapped here! Then what?”

“They aren't going to send a blockade for a prison break,” he scoffs.

“And how can you possibly know that?”

“How can you?”

“Why is it so hard for you to trust me?” You hate the hint of misery that seeps into your voice and betrays how much that idea pains you.

“Why should I? If I recall correctly, your judgment has nearly gotten you killed once already,” he says in a mocking tone.

You glare at him. “My judgment saved both our lives.”

He glares right back. “I'm starting to think that was sheer dumb luck.”

Oh, how fucking dare he. After everything you went through—

“I didn't realize you were such a coward,” you say coldly, desperate to hurt him as much as he's hurt you.

The tendons in his neck go taut with rage. “Fuck you,” he spits, but he no more than gets the words out when he's racked with a violent coughing fit. The force of it makes him double over onto the cave floor, and his body heaves with each one.

You wince at the sight, feeling ashamed of your comment now. You didn't want this.

The coughing spells are a parting gift from Narkina 5—the water still won't let him go. He's had a few of them since you got him to shore and forced the ocean from his lungs, and each one sounds a little bit worse than the one before. You're no healer, but that's obviously not a good sign. He needs medicine. You also haven't broached the subject with him because you know it will just start a fight.

As if everything you say doesn't start a fight.

You lean back to wait it out, letting your head thunk tiredly against the cave wall. There's nothing you can do to help him and trying will only make it worse—you learned that the hard way. Plus, it doesn't seem fair to argue with him while he's like this, even if you're only doing it to get through to him for his own good, the stubborn jerk.

It takes several minutes before he finally stops coughing long enough to get his breathing under control. Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, rights himself with as much dignity as he can muster, and gives you a cold, hard stare. “Go, then, if you're in such a hurry to end up back in a cell,” he grits out, his voice a strained, wet gravel.

“Fine,” you huff, pushing yourself to your feet. “Stay here and waste away if you want. See if I care. I can find a way off this slag heap by myself.”

You almost make it past the mouth of the cave.

The moment your foot touches the rain slicked rock, the combination of fatigue and an unsteady gait causes you to slip. You hit the ground with a grunt, landing hard on your hip. Sharp, hot pain shoots through the joint, curling up your spine and down your leg. The shock of it takes your breath away, and your eyes sting with fresh tears.

Oh, brilliant, you think caustically. Of all the times to fall on your ass.

Behind you, Kino swears. A second later, you hear the slap of his bare feet on rock as he stomps towards you.

“Broken?” He doesn't quite snap the question at you, but it's a near thing.

“No,” you choke out.

“You have a fucking death wish,” he growls before he hauls you to a sitting position.

Despite the pain, that statement makes you laugh, though it's a bitter, near hysterical sound. You tilt your head back to grin up at him. “Guess we make quite the pair, huh?”

He doesn't respond.

He just shoves his hands under your armpits in an attempt to get a grip on you with those thick fingers. Then your laughter quickly dissolves into a wounded hiss as he drags you back into the cave with no care for your new injury. You're not sure why you suddenly expected him to start coddling you. He never did before.

He dumps you back into the spot you’ve been occupying, glad to be rid of you, and you catch yourself with your hands before you land in a heap.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath.

After that, neither of you speaks for a while, content to sit and lick your wounds in what passes for peace now. Eventually, the pain in your hip lessens to a dull throb and the fire is reduced to embers, the long hours sucking the heat out of both.

Outside, the sky has gotten a bit lighter, but is still that dreary mask of grey that makes time feel nebulous. Unknowable. The rain, at least, had turned into a mist about an hour ago. Without the sound of the drops echoing throughout the cave, the silence is unforgiving. Every shuffle along the rock, every sniffle or sigh, every brush of clothes is harsh between you.

“Why are you so mad at me?” You finally ask, desperate for any noise that isn't him heavily exhaling a whistle through his nose.

“I already told you,” he replies, emotionless.

“I’m not talking about that,” you sigh. “You hated me the moment I stepped onto the floor.”

In the low light, there's a brief look of shock on his profile before his scowl returns in full force. “I didn't hate you.”

“Yes you did. You could barely look at me. And you yelled at me all the time.” He opens his mouth to protest, but you continue on so he can't interrupt you. “Look, I understand, in a way. I was slower than nearly all of the men, and you were pissed about being stuck with me. But it's not like I did it on purpose.”

“It wasn't that.” There's a renewed touch of exasperation in his voice. You're intimately familiar with that tone. You’ve heard the way he normally sounds when speaking to other people—got to see what it was like without ever experiencing it yourself—but you’ve never spoken to him without receiving either his impatience or his distaste. You prepare yourself for another fight.

“Then why? Because I was a distraction?” Your bitterness bleeds from you, an anguish built from months of labor and fear. And loneliness, you think. Because, even though you’d been constantly surrounded by people, you’d never felt so completely and utterly alone.

“It's nothing.” He rolls onto his side to face the cave wall, intent on ignoring you.

“It clearly wasn't nothing,” you respond dryly.

“Just drop it,” he says over his shoulder.

“No.” You cross your arms. You're done listening to him just because he tells you to. You don't have to now. You're not in there anymore. “After everything, I think I deserve to know what I did to have you treat me that way.”

“And I don't want to fucking talk about it,” he growls.

“Well, too damn bad! Because there's nothing else to talk about, and I want to know why you hated me when all I wanted was—” You cut yourself off with a hitched breath before you accidentally finish that sentence.

Fighting is one thing. That's easy. Safe. But this is something big and messy that you're still trying to come to terms with, made all the more complicated by your current situation, which was already plenty complicated before. This will only make things worse. You know it will. And despite all the hurtful things you’ve said to each other, you wouldn't be able to stomach his rejection. His pity. His disgust—couldn’t handle being forced to endure it while stuck in this damned cave and made to wallow in the forced intimacy of the space that's anything but. No, this is the one truth you could never take back.

To your embarrassment, your voice is rough and raw with emotion when you speak again. “When all I wanted was to be treated like a person.”

“If that's what you wanted, you were in the wrong place,” he says coldly to the cave wall. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

“No!” You shout. You no longer care if you’re being petulant because you are angry about it. You’ve been holding onto the feeling for months, but you're tired now. You don't want to carry it around anymore. “I won't let you bully me into silence. I want the truth.”

“Keep your voice down!” He hisses as he flings himself upright to glare at you. Every bit of him is rigid with tension. Dangerous. At least he's looking at you again.

“Then answer me!” You stubbornly glare back at him. “You owe me that much.”

“Fine! I was afraid, alright?” He finally snarls, reminding you of a cornered animal, spitting as it lashes out. “Is that what you want to hear? That you were right? That I'm a coward?”

“What?” All of your anger leaves you in a sudden rush. The hiding, the running, the water—that fear you can understand. But this? You stare at him in genuine confusion. “Why?”

“Because I was scared shitless about what could happen to you! That place was cruel to the men it was designed for. Whatever it had in store for you was going to be much worse. I thought…” He runs a hand down his face and over the scruff of his beard, now grown out beyond a neat trim. The action wipes his own anger away, and underneath it is something human: exhaustion and vulnerability. “I thought, if I kept you at a distance, it would hurt less when it finally broke you, but you made it so damn hard.”

“Oh,” you breathe out in shock, as though you’ve just had the wind knocked out of you. You have, in a way, because, gods, what can you possibly say to that? It's the last thing you were expecting—realistically, you thought he was worried your lack of strength or speed would get someone else killed. This, however…you couldn't have even imagined this. The implication of it… “Kino—”

“Don't. Okay?” He cuts you off. And then he turns away to shut you out as well. “Just…fucking don't.”

So instead you sit there in the uneasy quiet of the cave, feeling adrift. Helpless. Like you're right back in the middle of the ocean, at the mercy of the waves, with nothing to hold onto to keep from sinking; there’s only water in your fumbling grasp. At least then you'd known which way you were supposed to go, it was the getting there that was the problem. Now you don't even have that. You wonder if you’d have the energy to even try if you did.

A part of you wants nothing more than to reexamine every interaction, every look, and every word he’s ever spoken to you and see what you might uncover that you'd missed, but you can't do that with him right there. His presence just muddles everything up until you can't help but mix reality and memory, past and present, assumption and realization. You're nearly dizzy with it.

Plus, knowing that things weren't so black and white between you doesn't change what happened or how you feel. You’ve been hurting and angry for a while—especially at him, and most of which he still deserves for how he treated you. That something more existed lessens the intensity of those feelings, but it doesn't erase them completely. Not yet. Reconciling what you know and what you thought you knew will only come with time.

To the rest of you, however, that reconciliation doesn't seem as important as your fear at almost losing him or the realization that there is something more than just hatred on his end. Even if that thing is nothing more than kindness and compassion, it's something. And you could have died not knowing that. Or worse, you could have lived without knowing instead.

Gods, complicated is an understatement. If only you could have wanted something easy for once. You wonder if he thought the same thing as he watched you from across the work floor. And it feels odd to think that maybe it's not such an unrealistic hope anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, breaking the silence between you at last.

He laughs, and it manages to sound condescending. The familiarity of it is grounding. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

“I guess…” What are you apologizing for? For misunderstanding him? For making his life harder, even if it wasn't your fault? For not agreeing with him? For being unable to shoulder his anger? For continuing to push and push and push. Maybe all of it, you realize. For your part in the making of this. “I guess for saving you when you didn't want me to,” you answer with a shrug instead.

At first, you think he isn't going to respond to that, and you can no longer find it in yourself to blame him. But then, with a voice that’s softer than you’ve ever heard from him—weren’t even sure he was capable of it—he says, “It's not that I didn't want to be saved.”

“Then why? Help me to understand, Kino,” you plead, praying that he won't clam up or lash out again. Not when you've come so far. “Please.”

He gives you a heavy, resigned look before settling his attention on the cave entrance where his gaze becomes unseeing. Though there are only a few feet between you, he suddenly seems miles away.

“When we were planning all of this, I knew what was waiting for us on the outside. I mean, they built the fucking thing in the middle of an ocean and I can't swim. How ironic is that? All that work, and I was gonna make it to the door just to drown.” Then, quietly, “I never gave a thought to what I would do if I didn't. Now I've got no clue what comes next.”

“Neither do I,” you say in disbelief.

He lets out a dark laugh. “Sure don't act like it,” he mutters.

“I’m just better at hiding it.” You give him a small smile that he cannot see.

“Maybe I should be, too,” he muses to himself. “It’d be a hell of a lot better than feeling so lost.”

“Hiding it doesn't make that go away,” you say sadly. You know that all too well.

His only reply is a non-committal hum, and it suddenly occurs to you that he has no clue what you actually went through. How could he? He lept into the water and woke up on shore with nothing but darkness in between. All he knows is that you saved him. Without the rest, he thinks he's struggling alone.

“I almost gave up, you know,” you admit quietly.

That gets his attention again. He turns to look at you, and his eyes are wide with fear and concern. “What?” He gasps.

“I could barely see the shore when the adrenaline wore off. When faced with that distance, all that water, and no strength left?” You shrug in an attempt to seem unbothered, even as the memory fills you with dread. “For one horrible moment, I suppose drowning just seemed easier.” Like going to sleep, you don't say. “But I couldn't. I looked at you, and I couldn't. Not without trying first. And before you say anything, leaving you behind was never an option. Not for me. If this place was going to win, it was going to have to take us both.”

“I never wanted that,” he says helplessly. “When I came to and saw you laying there, I thought you were dead.” His voice breaks and he takes in a deep, shaky breath, but it does little to steady him. “I knew then what you did for me, and I thought it killed you. That after everything, it was me. I broke you, and it wasn't worth it. Not me.”

“You didn't,” you insist, desperate to make him listen. You recognize that despair because it's the same one that haunts your dreams and doesn't let go when you're awake. It's the same fear that grips your chest in icy fingers whenever you catch his sleeping face or you're forced to sit by and listen to him cough—the water still won't let him go. You understand now that he needs the reassurance that it's over just as much as you do. So you push yourself to your knees and dare to move closer, despite the protest of your aching body. “I’m right here. See? I was just tired afterwards, that's all. Just tired. I’m right here.”

Without warning, he reaches for you, and, even though he's never harmed you, you flinch thinking maybe you’ve finally pushed him too far. Only, he grabs the front of your uniform and pulls you to him, just as unkindly as he dragged you across the cave. And then you think he's going to scream again, but when he opens his mouth, he leans in and crushes your lips together instead.

You freeze against him.

Because Kino Loy is kissing you, and that can't be right. He hates you. His mouth can only scowl and scream and cough and—there’s a little grunt from the back of his throat as he adjusts the angle of your lips, and, oh, this is real. Without another thought, you're kissing him back.

At first, there's only tentative relief—at the reassurance, the sensation, at finally getting something you want—but heat starts to build in the breath-humid space between your bodies the longer you kiss and kiss. Something born of more than lust or desire. And though they flicker in your belly as well, it's a bone deep desperation to feel alive that drives you forward and aches to be quelled.

When you break apart to catch your breath, he rests his forehead against yours. Close enough for your noses to brush together and to feel each hard exhale—that blessed, life sustaining air—across your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a sob. His voice is low and thick with grief against your mouth. The sound and shape of it is so different from his anger—in the low light, only a ghost of that harshness is left, clinging to the shadowy lines of his face. You don't have to ask what he's apologizing for.

“Show me,” you whisper back. You let your lips brush over his again in invitation. He responds by delving into the wet heat of your mouth and wrapping you in his arms with a moan.

So you give yourself over to the exploration of his tongue against yours and his large, callus roughened hands as they engulf the sides of your face, caught in the whirlwind of him. It leaves you breathless faster than you like, and when you break for air again, you don't want to give him a moment to change his mind or to pull away completely. So your mouth wanders to his cheeks, the scruff on his jaw, his Adam's apple, the hollow of his throat above the collar of his uniform—seeking out every bit of him that you can reach as he pants and swallows beneath your lips.

He smells like sweat and smoke and saltwater, and his skin is sharp and briny on your tongue as you lap at a spot on his neck. He tastes like drowning, and for a moment you're lost in the memory of him in the water, his weight pulling you beneath the waves. His lifeless face staring up at you from the shore. But then he sucks in a sharp breath, jolting you back to the present, and his lips are on yours again. Warm. Alive. Not the cold flesh you forced air through. Not the same shared breath.

“Wanna see you,” you gasp into his mouth as you lift at the hem of his shirt.

Without a word, he moves to obey.

You both peel away your filthy uniforms with trembling hands, revealing bodies that are just as dirty and unwashed to the chilled air, but beneath all of that is color. His flush of arousal. Bruises that are starting to fade, a gruesome rainbow of healing. The shadows playing in the shifting of muscle as he reaches for you to pull you back into the warmth of his arms. Alive.

He's the first soft thing you’ve touched after days of nothing but rock. And before that, months of only tools and labor and struggle. You bask in the sensation: The greying hair on his chest, the roundness of his belly and hips, salt dried skin, his palm on your cheek. The other on your thigh. He’s softer than you remember from when you were hauling him through the waves—

You wrap your hand around his cock, and his heartbeat throbs in your fist. Alive.

He lets out a groan when you stroke him, something deep and guttural that rumbles through the cave like thunder. The sound sends blood and heat rushing to your core, where it pools between your thighs and leaves you aching and empty. You tease the silken foreskin over his length and work your thumb along the underside of the swollen head just to hear more of it.

With a growl, he falls upon you, pulling you in for a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongues and hunger. His hand cups the swell of your breast while his thumb circles your nipple. You cry out and arch into the roughness of his hand. Then you're both eagerly groping and learning all the ways you can draw more noises from each other until you're left squirming against the insistent throbbing between your legs.

“I want you inside of me,” you murmur into his mouth.

He clenches his eyes shut as his breath hitches, and you're thrilled you can get that reaction out of him. But then he opens his eyes again and, in a shaky voice, asks, “You're sure?”

“Yes!” You growl, impatient. “Fuck me, Kino.”

He lets out a groan. “If you keep that up, I’m not gonna last very long.”

“Don't care as long as your cock is inside me first.”

“Fuck!” He hisses. His hips involuntarily jerk forward at the thought, and said cock grinds into the bend of your groin. “Then I'll give you what you want.”

After that reaction, you think he's going to throw you down and do just that. Instead, his touch gentles, his palm cradling the base of your skull as he lays you out along the rock. The movement doesn't make you feel delicate or like something that's injured and cowering in a cave, but rather like something to be revered.

This is his apology.

A caress along your inner knee has your legs falling open, leaving you exposed before him. Before you can be self-conscious about it, he gives your arousal a heated look that drives the thought from your mind. Then he traces a fingertip up the tender skin of your thigh, and fire licks from your thigh to your belly.

For a moment, you wonder what it would be like to have this on the other side of the galaxy. Not in a cave, but in a bed, warm and clean with a full stomach. Maybe it would be sweet like this between you the whole time rather than something that's taking an effort just to maintain. Because you know this is only a moment—a reprieve. It can't last, not when that cold desperation and panic are rebuilding within your gut.

It's a lovely thought. But by the time he kneels between your thighs, you need again. You pull him down and he goes willingly, falling to brace his hands on the stony ground on either side of your shoulders. Then you hold your breath as he closes the distance, slowly, until the length of his cock is resting and throbbing, flush against your sex.

Your hips grind up against him, trapping him between your heat and his belly so that when he thrusts back, seeking more, he drags himself along your wet folds; the sensitive head of his cock rubs against your clit. Both of you moan, wounded and strangled sounds. So he does it again. And again. Over and over until you're both gasping and shuddering at the slick friction.

All the while he stares down at you, studying you. Taking in the way your face contorts and breaks with pleasure. His eyes are sea blue, you realize—the water, greedy—so wild and deep and pulling you in. It sets your pulse racing and makes your palms sweat against his shoulders. You turn away from the intensity in that gaze.

“No.” To your surprise, he takes your chin between his finger and thumb, not gentle but steady, and he forces you to look anyway. To face him. “Let me see you.”

He holds you there with the weight of his body as he shifts to nudge at your opening. It's so close to what you need. Your legs wrap around his waist in silent encouragement. Then, once he's lined up, he sinks forward with a groan and stretches you open on his cock until you're aching and full.

His mouth goes slack. Those eyes become heavy and lidded. Not closed—alive. Which makes all the difference to your wounded mind. So you drink in the sight of him like this, buried in the tight embrace of your cunt. A ruinous look.

You're drowning again.

It scares you, just how much you want to give yourself over and let go. How easy it would be to become lost. To believe that this is something more than desperation. But then his eyes refocus and whatever tenderness had gripped him is absent from that gaze. In its place is hunger. Need. Urgency.

“Gods, you're so tight,” he grinds out from behind clenched teeth as he gives a shallow thrust into you. The sound goes straight to your core, soaking him further. “Feels so good.”

Then he finally—finally—fucks you. Hard and fast.

The ground is cold and unrelenting beneath your spine where you're folded and crushed against it. Above you, he's blanketing you in heat and the delicious slide of flesh along your nerves. A lovely contrast already, but then his hand finds your hip, his fingers digging into your fresh bruise, and you gasp from the pain—it hurts, but if it hurts that means you're alive. He doesn't stop at the sound. Instead, there's understanding in those eyes as he pulls you in to meet each plunge of his cock, and, oh, that's even better.

You spare a thought for his knees right before he shifts. Then he's dragging against that spot inside of you, and your mind goes blissfully empty with pleasure. Your head falls back, weightless with it. At that opening, he buries his face in your neck, muffling every grunt into your skin. He presses the vibrations of them into your flesh and bones alongside his exhales, the scrape of his beard, the unconscious skim and purse of his lips. You shiver.

You won't come from this alone, but you don't care. This is enough. You just need to feel something—need the proof that he's alive. That you're alive. That this IS real and not some drawn out hallucination your dying brain came up with between the span of one heartbeat and your last.

But it has to be real. Even in your darkest moments, alone in your cell, you never allowed yourself to want this—the thing you could not have. The galaxy had been cruel enough on its own without any assistance from you. So there were no images or dreams in your mind to conjure this from. Which means these messy kisses, the wet noise of your joining, your sweat slicked skin, his hair, salt-stiffened and curled between your fingers, must be real. It also means every moment of this is new and unburdened by expectation or comparison.

It's everything else that haunts you.

All too soon, and just as promised, his body grows tense, and he starts to tremble above you. Between your exhaustion and his unrelenting pace, this was never intended to last. And he's so close, but when he meets your eyes, you see hesitation. Uncertainty. When he moves to pull away, you realize he means to finish by stroking and spilling himself across your belly instead. But that isn't what you need.

“No! Don’t,” you beg. Your legs tighten around his waist, and you grasp at his neck and shoulders, unwilling to let him go with a strength that surprises you both. Then you roll your hips and grind yourself onto his cock, dragging a hiss out of him. “I want to feel you.”

He groans as he yields to your plea, too near that edge to argue, so he falls right back into a punishing rhythm. Yet underneath the hunger and determination, there's anguish now, too. As if by doing this, he remains afraid he'll break you somehow. Still, he clings to your hips as every thrust turns short and sharp with purpose until, at last, he buries himself fully and chases that relief in the depths of your cunt.

When he comes, the only sound he makes is a harsh sob. And then his cock is pulsing inside of you, filling you with warmth. Life.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

He collapses heavily at your side with a few wet coughs, spent and too exhausted to hold himself up any longer. You lay there for a moment, listening to his ragged breathing, unsure of what comes next. You're afraid he’ll push you away once his mind clears. That he’ll go back to hating you from across the cave, now muggy with the scent of sex, as his come leaks down your thighs.

He doesn't.

Instead, he holds his arms open in silent invitation and you realize he's offering you a choice: move forward with or without him. And this time, you know he accepts that it's your decision to make. But you’ve already made this choice once, when you watched him slip beneath the waves. When you dove for him in the water, hauled him back out of it, and then forced it from his lungs. It was just as easy to make then. Maybe now he’ll understand what it means.

You go to him and curl against him in acceptance. He kisses the fragile skin of your temple, and then he helps you get settled by tucking your head under his chin and rubbing warmth in a soothing pattern along your stone chilled back. Your hand finds his waist. His leg entangles with yours. Back and forth until there's nothing but drying sweat between you, as if you have always fit together in this way.

You want to savor this. More than that, you want to have this if you can. If he’ll let you. If he doesn't go back to holding you at a distance out of habit and self-preservation in a day or so, always waiting for the worst to happen and scared of the hurt that might follow. As if anything could be worse than losing him now. Then he really would be the thing that broke you. A self fulfilling prophecy. You almost want to laugh at the irony.

All at once, the silence feels heavier than you can bear.

“Never again tell me you aren't worth it,” you whisper fiercely to the cave. “You are to me.”

He doesn't respond, but the hand splayed over your ribs twitches before clutching you tighter.

“We’ll try in the morning,” he says quietly instead. Under your ear, the compromise rumbles loudly throughout his chest. Beneath that, his steady heartbeat.

His statement doesn't fill you with anything as naive as hope. The Empire is still looking for you, and they aren't ever going to stop now. You’ve only traded imprisonment for the illusion of freedom. The thought claws at you, threatens to pull you under. But there's an arm around your shoulders that squeezes as it holds you close, and you remember that you can't let go. You can't lose him. You won't. You have to keep moving.

“In the morning,” you agree.

"Hey,” he said, half-asleep, “what were you before me?” “I think I was drowning.” A pause. “And what are you now?” he whispered, sinking. I thought for a second. “Water."

- Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

A/N: The song for this fic is Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish btw.

[serabellyms]

i hate that feeling when i'm writing w/ a new mutual or a mutual that I haven't written with much and don't know what's too long of a reply that's gonna scare them off

so ig this is my way of saying to the dash: if you're not intimidated by long replies sometimes PLEASE let me know directly bc this vibe literally results in me deleting and rewriting replies to people multiple times when the first few were probably just fine to send and i'm instead overthinking how much content i'm putting in it when that particular mutual would've just gone with the flow--

[soultek]

A Hundred Years - A One-Shot [Aliens AU]

Author’s Note: So, this one is for my fellow Bishop Girlies! @mandy23b​ - Happy 4th Friend-Versay! (You’re for sure stuck with me now!)

@sufferthesea​ because 1) Happy (belated) Birthday! and 2) because it was your lyric choice and so I had to make it Bishop, obviously! I thought you’d enjoy 😉

Love you both TONS! 💙

Amanda, I know OC fic isn’t your preference, but, I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Please note there are some weird AF paragraph gaps in this that I just can’t get to work nicely... so I apologise in advance 🙏

Warnings: Some swearing / Depressive spiraling / sex reference and innuendo / He might be *slightly* OOC... please judge this for yourself, I tried my best!

Premise: From this fun little request post.  There’s engineering work to do, and Rex is spiraling. Despite Bishop’s valiant attempts to stop this from happening, it seems more like a delay. Sure, it started off as a joke - but now she’s really thinking on the fact that for the next 100 years he can upgrade himself and she... can’t. Not without drastic medical advancement. Sometimes it’s not about living for the future, but in the moment...

Words: 6965

--- Lyric Chosen ---

“A hundred years wouldn't be long enough” ~ Mean It This Time, Carly Pearce

---

It started, as it always did, with a game of chess. Although, by this point in their down time, the game had been practically forgotten in favour of general chat and gossip. The pieces used more as something to occupy hands – with the rules of the game being broken left, right and centre, as they were moved across the board with no particular destination. Travelling between planets on shorter journeys meant no need for Cryo, but right now Hicks would be glad of it, because he was bored out of his mind. So bored that really he lacked the concentration for a serious game of chess – and his feigned attempts at trying had quickly made Rex lose interest in playing any better. She had been the one to initially distract him with small talk and now the board was an absolute mess.

Though, being stuck together on a ship – and being close friends – meant really there was little to talk about beyond rumour and speculation. Or whatever bets the other crew members had going on this week. Hicks sank all the way down to the table, head resting on his crossed arms. She raised her eyebrows at him, “You know at this point you might as well go back to bed, huh?” “Ah, would that I could Rex… you know the second I do, something will actually happen.” “Well at least it will be worth it for the rest of us!” She tipped the rook she was messing with a little too far and it clattered off the board and rolled across the table, Hicks stretched his palm out to stop it, but even this was half hearted. “This is the most down down time ever.” “Then go find someone to mess around with.” “You’re the most fun to mess around with – suggesting chess was a screw up on my part.” Rexanna leant on her knuckles, eyebrow quirked. She tipped her head, and as she did so loose curls of dark hair fell into her face; regretting her change of position, she blew them out of the way. Maybe she should have tied it back today. “I noticed. And to think I could have kept going for an easy victory!” She looked back to the board – no point now with the state it was in. If they wanted to keep playing, they’d have to reset the whole thing. “But I’ll take the compliment that I think that was.” Hicks raised his head, but not by much, “It’s official, I’ve never been this bored in my life.” “Sorry, I didn’t realise you turned into Hudson on this trip-!” Rex folded her arms, looking away from him nonchalantly. That soon got her best friend sitting up. “You did not.” “Didn’t what?” “I KNOW I didn’t hear you say that-!” She grinned, “Well, if you’re gonna complain I don’t know what you expect me to say!” He leaned across the table, “You are SO lucky I like you!” “Or what?” Rex couldn’t help grin wider, teasing, before he smacked both her shoulders, “OW! Geez, Hicks, you’re a lot bigger than me!” She tried to lunge back across the table, but he had leaned out of reach. Now they were both laughing, and though she was rubbing her right shoulder, Rex wasn’t actually hurting. “Hey, you could always do work!” She suggested; that was always the easiest way to increase any kind of productivity, and on a ship this big, there was always something to do. “Uh, no thank you.” He waved that one away – seeming to suggest that in honesty, the only reason he was sitting across from her now was to avoid working. Fair enough. Hicks swung his right leg up onto the bench beside him, now apparently interested in his combat boots, “Never known you to throw a game of chess.” Her eyes flicked back to the pieces in annoyance, “I didn’t, but you weren’t really taking it seriously so there was no point. There’s nothing in an easy victory.” Hicks was right though; it was her favourite game. From the “CHQ MVIII” on her armour, which had now also been transferred to a tattoo just below her right collarbone, always obscured by her blue flight suit. (Which she’d now become partial to wearing when not in combat, for both comfort and the practicality of ad hoc engineering around the ship. Not to get too ‘matchy-matchy’ with her significant other!) To the chess piece around her neck… it was pretty much how her whole relationship had started… “I dunno, I figure distracting you once or twice has given me easy victories.” Rex’s eyes narrowed, “And you think I’ve forgiven you for that!?!” “Well if I can beat you then I figure you’re not really the best on the ship.” This time instead of leaning across to hit him, Rexanna grabbed the piece nearest to her and threw it at him, “Shut up!” Hicks merely laughed, “Have any of the newbies beaten you yet?” “No!” She was clearly falling for his teasing at the way her voice was pitching - damn him! “I better teach ‘em that all you gotta do is mention-” “And how is that gonna work now, jackass!” She picked up another piece, “Don’t make me throw another at you!” His laugh turned into a full-blown cackle before he calmed a little – smile still mischievous as he looked to her. “Frost, Spunkmeyer and Wierzbowski still got that stupid bet on how long it’s going to take anyone to figure out your relationship?” “I still think they should have had bets on the newbies thinking it’s us, but that’s just me.” Rex gave a shrug, “I think so. It’s not out there… it’s not hidden. It just is. Some of them know, I’m surprised they haven’t told the others… unless they’re getting hush money!” Hicks picked up one of his bishops and studied it with interest, “They do seem to keep thinking we’re a thing.” “You’re not exactly pointing out that you have a girlfriend, are you.” “Well I think I’d much rather be out in space with her than you, but that’s just me.” Rex folded her arms, squinting and mouth open, but didn’t even rise to it, “You wouldn’t be out here without me Hicks and you know it.” “Utterly lost!” He grinned and put the piece back down. Before his smile faded a little as he looked curiously behind her, “Ooop! Your man is here to pick you up.”

Rex twisted around in her seat, and sure enough now standing in the doorway of the mess hall was Bishop. She tried not to immediately beam about it – but knew this only meant one thing. Mother had picked up a few knocks here and there with some of the ship’s internals and although not serious, they needed fixing. Rex had been putting it off until they had enough down time and no other work to do… apparently that time had come. She offered a wave, before indicating that she’d be two minutes. He nodded politely, before she turned back to Hicks. “Yeah, guess I now have work to do!” “Aw man, you jinxed it!” Her best friend appeared momentarily sympathetic before his eyes narrowed, “Work? With Bishop? C’mon Rex, where are you really going? I know it ain’t work!” “Do you want a functioning ship or not? We’ve been putting this fix off for weeks!” “Yeah, uh huh, sure!” Hicks raised his eyebrows at her to indicate he believed otherwise, “Have fun getting your fix.” Rex hated that she could feel her cheeks heating, “Screw you!” “Sounds like that’s what’s gonna happen to you, honey.” “If I wasn’t so scared for my life of what Ripley would do to me once we got back, I’d kill you.” Hicks grinned a little wider, “That’s my girl! Also, if we’re being honest, as you can’t survive without me, you’d be throwing yourself out an airlock far before that.” Point noted – but Rexanna wouldn’t say it out loud. She pulled her feet out from under the bench and made a motion to stand, but Hicks was intent on keeping her there as long as possible – now studying more chess pieces. “Hey, didn’t you play against his creator, once?” She was glad for a moment she hadn’t mentally checked out of the conversation already, or she might have taken a while to pick up the train of thought going on here. Hicks was referring to Bishop’s designer and the lead engineer on the 341-B project. “Michael? Yeaaah, what about it?” “Didn’t you win?” Rex wondered if he was being facetious. “No.” “No?!” Hicks genuinely looked surprised when he looked up, “I thought you got what you wanted?” “I did get what I played him for…”   essentially the agreement that once Bishop became an ‘obsolete’ model in Wey-Yu’s eyes, and especially in the eyes of their USCM missions, instead of being deactivated he would become completely Rex’s responsibility. She expected Android law to have progressed by then, but, until such a time, if this protected him it was the least she could do. “…I didn’t win.” “Fair enough. I won’t bring up any more of your losses, I was trying to big you up.” Rex scoffed, “Against a multiple time world chess champion? Try again – remind me of all the times I beat Hudson,” she leaned in, giving her hands purchase to push herself back and away from the table, “or you!” Hicks laughed again, “No chance!” Rex stepped back a few paces, grinning at her best friend, “Alright, I gotta go – enjoy your single life on the ship, Hicks!” “Yeah well, at least I don’t have to hide away any time I want some action and pretend I’m working-!” This time Rexanna laughed, winking at him before turning, “You’re just jealous!”  She held a hand up in a wave goodbye, “See ya!”

Bishop was leaning against the wall outside as she rounded the corner; amused by her friends jabs as much as anything else. She’d get him back later. “Rexanna…” “Sorry-! To be honest I’m not sure if that conversation was worth finishing. But I’m good now… this is about the fix we’ve been putting off right?” “Yes.” He regarded her steadily, “This is… about work.” Catching on, she flicked her eyes back in the direction she’d come from, “Y- Yes, I know.” “Didn’t seem that’s what you and Hicks were talking about.” She very nearly snorted, “I think he was joking with me, but that isn’t what I was expecting anyway. I knew this had to be done… down time comes after, that’s okay with me!” She beamed, walking in step with him, offering a wink that was only met with a look of mild disapproval.

  ***

  They were so close as they walked towards the source of the issue that they found hands and arms almost constantly brushing – pretty soon causing their fingers to entwine. They didn’t let go at any point after that, including as they had to descend several flights of stairs – instead Bishop would walk first in order to keep her steady. Like a gentleman (as he so often was). Sometimes he made Rex wonder why anyone would rather be with a human male – honestly just one mission with any of the guys she’d been posted with would likely put you off for life. Except maybe Hicks – but of course she’d make that exception for her best friend. Even when they came across others in corridors the connection between them was never severed, even if it meant side stepping or doing some more awkward single file walking.

They’d been together a while by now, but any situation like this always made something spark within Rexanna – she never knew if it was excitement or dread, but it was definitely anticipation of what would happen. What would their reaction be; what would his reaction be. So often before she’d unconsciously worried that he would drop her hand at the slightest sign of conflict or disapproval. Which took to Rex holding him just that little bit tighter every time they came to that impasse. Bishop picked this up so quickly that at this point the only way Rex was going to make him let go was if she dropped his hand first. On the ship where most people knew, she was much more relaxed about it; and with any of the first-time fliers, Rex was ranked high enough that staring them down would get them to drop any look of uncertainty.

  Eventually she realised they had got this far without much conversation. Normally that would have been fine; they both knew exactly the issue to fix here and silence was always comfortable between them. In all honesty when she had to spend the majority of her day giving orders to the other engineers or fighting her way through marine banter, returning to a comfortable silence with Bishop was heaven. Everything else was simply exhausting. They didn’t really need words to know how each other was feeling. He could simply hold his arms out for her and that would be enough.

Yet, Rexanna hadn’t seen him all morning – and right now it was like she was neglecting to ask about his day. She turned, “Hey, I thought you’d come and collect me earlier. You weren’t around when I woke up, but considering I had no other work to do, I thought you might leave me a note or something to meet you down here…!” “Oh.” Bishop smiled, “No, I had to run some diagnostics. Still got a few to finish later, you can help, if you like?” “On yourself? Sure… You okay?” “I’m fine – it’s just routine.” He gave a shrug, “Then I thought we ought to be getting on with this before it got too late.” Rex could agree with that, “Routine? You sure?” Ever since she’d found those weird lines of three-laws-defying code in him that he kept rewriting, she had to admit there was a certain level of paranoia that Wey-Yu would find some way of wiping them out of him. “Well…” She didn’t like the pause, this time stopping their walk to actively stare at him. She loosened her fingers from Bishop’s – as if to emphasise the importance of his next answer. “…It’s just upgrades, Ree, you don’t need to worry. I promise. But there are some data chip changes I need to do.” His voice was so gentle with that particular use of her name that she believed him instantly. But she had other issues, chewing her lip momentarily and looking away from the weight of his own stare. Even now sometimes she couldn’t hold those eyes of his. Truth was, she might have got his promise – might even have been given a written contract with a signature… but she didn’t trust Michael and the company one bit. What annoyed Rex most was she didn’t have a choice.

Instead, she made something more like a joke of the situation, continuing their walk. “In 100 years I'll be nothing but dust, and you'll still be walking around upgrading yourself!” Bishop’s response was to chuckle, and she smiled just to hear him laugh, “You don't know that! There could be many medical advancements between now and then.” Funnily enough he said it with every ounce of seriousness, so it was Rexanna’s turn to laugh, “Well they better hurry the hell up or I'll be too old! By that point they better put my brain in an android!” She didn’t know if she were joking or not, but Bishop looked across to her, then looked away with a little smile. “That... would be agreeable.” Rex shook her head, before nudging him playfully with her shoulder; “Yeah, I bet!” She was smiling, and her joke was meant to be throw away… then suddenly she found herself really thinking on it. Her smile faded.

Not due to unhappiness but curiosity – every now and then this was something Rex would think on. There were a lot of things she couldn’t give Bishop that an android partner could. They would be able to understand a lot of mechanical grievances; and that never ending fight for better rights. He was an Equal Opportunity Advisor for the USCM after all. Rex could live her life blissfully and never come into contact with any of that. She tried to be an active ally, for obvious reasons – but did she really give him the support he wanted… or needed? She couldn’t help but voice it: “Would you… like that?” “Like what?” She got the feeling Bishop knew, but wanted her to voice the question anyway. “If I was in an androids’ body instead of mine?” If it was still her just less flesh and bone and more circuit boards and circulation fluid. “I mean would that even be the same to you?” Bishop suddenly frowned so hard that Rexanna thought he might have malfunctioned – this time she held his stare just because of how disbelieving it was; and she was starting to feel like she’d asked something wrong. Her lips parted to say something, anything at this point that would get that look off his face. Bishop spoke first. “No.” There was a hanging silence again, Rex blinked. “S-Sorry, to which part?” “All of it. Why would I want that?” “Well, like I say… my life is so finite. As long as you have a way to keep upgrading… I’ll be long gone by the time anything happens to you. If I was an android I could… be around for so much longer.” He stepped a little closer to her, “Rex.” It was too late; she was spiralling, “I don’t know, maybe that’d be better for you. My life won’t be long enough for either of us – even with the wonders of tech, and you’ll outlive me for so long!” Would he be able to go on without her? Did Rex really want the answer to that question? “Rexanna. Ree. Don’t do that. Stop.” He took her hands back in his, but, as she kept talking Bishop moved his hands to her arms, pulling her closer before placing his forehead gently to hers. “Hey.” Silence again, except she could hear the pounding of her heart inside her head. Brown eyes wide as they looked between his. “You wouldn’t be you. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.” Snaking his left hand down her right arm he traced Rex’s tattoo – a swirl of stars and nebulae - before interlinking their fingers, “You don’t think the reason you are so complex and so… human is part of the reason I fell for you?” She wasn’t really one for blushing, but Rex knew she was getting hot – and he was giving her very little room. Even now Bishop still had troubles with personal space. If Rex backed up, she knew she was about to hit the steel wall of the ship. She tried to look anywhere but his eyes, searching for something to say and stammering. What exactly was she supposed to say to that. In reality, Bishop wasn’t expecting her to return the favour. And she noticed that his right hand was now clasped around her other wrist, fingers pressing against her pulse point – as if to really hammer what he was saying home. Duly noted.

Though he’d have to remind her, again and again and again… 

To break what for her was fast becoming too awkward of a pause, Rex deflected with humour, as her group of marines so often did. “Aw man, and here I thought it was for my stellar good looks!” She made sure her grin was extra cheesy. Bishop’s laugh was almost painful, but his look softened. “Well… perhaps a little of that too.” At least she was giggling and not spiralling; he could cope with that – as apparently this was so funny to her, she ended up collapsing into his shoulder, hiding her face in his flight suit. Or, perhaps Rex was hiding for different reasons… He watched her for a moment, shaking his head, before taking a deep – and unnecessary – breath. “Okay, Ms. Mori. We have a computer to fix. Let’s go.”

Ah, her last name? Now she was in trouble… ***

Rex had fixed plenty of systems like this before - but never in a room that looked quite so compact. Usually equipment like this was afforded areas that were wider, looking a little like rows of servers. For some reason on this ship, they had decided to place it in a cramped space; meaning instead of having rows of modules with gaps in between, they were all stacked on top of each other and screwed into the walls. Not only that, but it must have been stuffed into a tight angled part of the ship - given that the ceiling was an unusual hexagonal shape that seemed to cave in on itself. And there were modules screwed into that too. The saving grace was it was brightly lit. Unsurprisingly, everything they had to fix was up there. Both because a) of course it wasn’t on the floor, and b) it was most likely the weird angles that were causing issues. Rex swivelled in place to Bishop, eyebrow raised, pointing a finger to the ceiling; “Guess we’re climbing?” “Mhm.” He affirmed, before giving her an equally disbelieving look, “You think they’d design this a bit better though.” “Hopefully we fix it well enough for this to be the one time it comes up, but I foresee further issues..!” “Fixing it once in almost 2 years?” Bishop admired that hope and optimism, “I doubt it.” “Yeah,” Rexanna sighed gently, “me too.”

On the far wall, it seemed that the company were quite prepared for engineers to fix any faults in this room; a storage locker conveniently labelled “tools” (as if they wouldn’t have bought their own? Well… at least Bishop had remembered to!) and several cables and harnesses tied neatly together that ran all the way to sturdy looking hooks in the ceiling. At least they’d assist in climbing: but what an effort! Rex puffed out her cheeks with an eye roll; this was going to be a long day.

Before she hooked herself up to ascend though… Rex patted down the pockets of her flight suit, wait… She cursed herself for a moment; surely she didn’t forget them!? Usually she had at least one in a pocket somewhere!! Bishop cleared his throat, and as Rex looked to him she realised he’d known exactly what she was looking for - extending his hand out with a hair tie. “And that’s why I love you.” She took it from him gratefully pulling her dark hair up into it, before smiling, with a gentle, “thank you.” That didn’t perturb him from his joke, though. “Thought it’d be for much more than that.” Bishop bumped his arm against hers as he passed, ready to set himself up for the climb. Rex couldn’t help snorting; “You mean your good looks, right?!” Although he wasn’t facing her, she could hear that smile in his voice. “Something like that.”

It didn’t take them long to attach the harnesses and ropes. Luckily they wouldn’t need to also pull a tool box up with them, as the harnesses came with handy tool belts; and anything they couldn’t fit in there was transferred into flight suit pockets. In reality, it wasn’t necessarily so much of a climb, but having to pull yourself up to the level you wanted. Not so bad for him, she supposed, but an arduous task when this whole fix would require you using your arms. There must have been an easier way to do it…?

Rex thought hard, staring at the rope in her hands for a long time. Either she’d missed something Bishop had said or he was just being extra patient with her, because he hadn’t moved to start either. Staring intently in silence and waiting for her to say whatever she was thinking. And then it clicked. “Oh my god…” she said softly, before laughing, “of course!” Seemingly Bishop knew she was about to say something typically Rex by the subsequent look on his face. “Mother, could you please disengage the artificial gravity in this room?”

  There was a beat with no noise. Rex wasn’t even sure if she expected Mother to answer them. Sometimes Mother liked to remain silent when working on things and sometimes she could be overly… motherly.

Her eyes flicked across to Bishop’s as if to tell him it was at least worth a shot; but as Rexanna did so she noticed her clothes begin to rise, followed by her dog tags; escaping her flight suit and threatening to send the chess piece attached (a Bishop, what else?) sailing to the ceiling if she didn’t keep hold of it. Before long, her feet were hovering off the floor as it really kicked in. That unsteady moment when Rex was never sure if she’d remain floating or suddenly crash back down in a heap. The latter had happened many a time - especially when people weren’t expecting it! Luckily the Zero-G held and they found themselves free floating to the top of the room where the work was needed. This time the ropes served as anchors to make sure that they weren’t drifting off away from where they were meant to be. Hopefully no one would decide to check on them, or they were in for a nasty shock. Else the gravity would reengage and Rex would find herself with angry red marks where her harness caught her sudden weight in quite a large fall.

It would be no good doing this if you were afraid of heights.

  The lack of gravity worked wonders; they could effectively “swim” to exactly where they were needed. That would save them some energy; or, maybe a couple of percent on having to recharge later. Though Rex couldn’t help but look over to Bishop for approval. He could tell, of course, so he made her wait for it. Luckily this time his stare included a blink or two. “Well I wasn’t going to say it until it worked - but that is a pretty efficient idea, yes.” Rex couldn’t help but give a little wiggle of a happy dance at this - Bishop just shook his head at her. Sometimes she could get so happy at the tiniest of things. She was still a mystery to him by all accounts. But he liked that.

  She held her tongue for the first few minutes of work - because she actually thought she’d miscalculated - if they needed to remove panels and screws, they risked them soaring off out of reach; and if they were very unlucky, either screws lost, or further damage created they didn’t need to fix. This fear was soon abated when Rexanna realised that everything stayed firmly locked in even once unscrewed. Even those screws had a limit and didn’t come fully out of the plates. The only thing she really need to keep an eye on was her data pad; making sure she was fixing and rewiring all the right parts, before moving onto the next one. They kept a back-and-forth dialogue to ensure everything was covered. And other than that, no small talk passed between them. They stuck to task. Professional. It was probably the main reason they were allowed to go on so many of these colonisation - or ATMOS - missions together. Because work was work; and the relationship came after or between those moments. They knew how to keep things separate. So separate that there were still several newer marines that, even about a year or so into this one, hadn’t figured it out yet. They probably worked better together than most science and engineering teams in the entire Wey-Yu USCM roster. And, in this strictly professional way, they scaled themselves across their entire engineering fix.

***

After screwing her last panel into place Rexanna glanced over her shoulder. Bishop was studying the data pad - having long since finished his section (of course, he had precision and efficiency she didn’t). This would at least tell him if all systems were back to functioning. She waited… and waited… He looked up slowly, almost as if he didn’t know she was looking for the green light. “We’ll probably have to test it. But I would say everything looks nominal here.” He jabbed the pad with his index finger, “we at least fixed everything on the list.”

This was good enough for Rex! Who punched the air. They’d been up here a few hours at least; it had been more work than she initially expected. And they were working in Zero-G; not as easy as she’d hoped. Speaking of… now she was up here, she had less clue of how exactly to get back to the floor… If she asked Mother to reengage the gravity that presented the “all my weight at once” problem of before - likely not a slow process… Though then they could just abseil down… easy!

Bishop watched Rexanna look down to the bottom - the expression of concentration on her face that showed how her thought patterns were figuring their way out of this. “You know,” he spoke up, “I have a system that can engage artificial gravity. I could just float us down to the ground again.” “What?!” Rex’s eyes widened, “You do! Well that saves me a lot of hard thought!” She grinned. He pressed his lips together, thinking, “I mean you have to get to me, but, I’m sure you can manage that.” “Pretty sure I’ve been through hell and back and almost died that one time to finally get to you, so… yeah. A lack of gravity is not going to stop me!” Without warning Rex pushed herself off the wall - it didn’t have quite the desired speed; but she let her rope out enough to sail across the expanse to him. He’d at least pushed himself out to just about the middle of the room by that point anyway.

Realising there was very little to slow herself down now except Bishop, Rexanna latched herself to him; legs tangling with his and clinging to his shoulders. “Uhhhh-! Not sure this is quite what I had in mind-!” He was busy trying to balance both to not send them careering into a wall - but he chuckled; voice teasing. “Funny, because I was.” Rex’s eyes narrowed “Huh?” “I got you over here. And that was the plan.” The silence of her disbelief really said everything, “… The extent of your plan was… Did you just lie to me!?” It took a while for Bishop’s smile to crack, but once it did Rex knew she had absolutely been played. “Well…” One hand fell to her hip; and it brought back memories of the first time he’d teased her, “it wasn’t the extent of my plan. No.” “Oh? What was then?” Because no matter what; they did have to get down. So, he better have a way!

His smile was gentle, and he pressed his forehead back to hers, as he had in the hallway to calm her. “This…” His deep voice lowered to something gentle, not quite a whisper. Bishop closed the gap between them, lips to hers. Rex’s eyes closed on contact, hands tangling in his flight suit as she pulled him a little closer, savouring that contact. He kept her steady in their free float – the hand not on her hip supporting her back; running in soothing circles. He pulled away ever so slightly; but that was another tease, because he knew Rexanna wasn’t going to let him get away with it, before she pulled him in for a deeper one. Oh yeah, this was way better than getting to the ground. Rex was getting to experience a Zero-G kiss! (And how many people could say that, in honesty!?)

***

The next time they really got a quiet moment together was late into the evening, after having to fend off a million comments when Hicks decided to loudly proclaim that the last thing they’d been doing for the past three hours was fixing the ships systems, and the entire table decided to join in. If Rex had hoped anything would go that way this evening, by the time she’d made it back to their room she was exhausted.

They had finally made it down from the precarious situation of turning the gravity back on by Bishop having Rexanna continue to wrap her body around his and taking the full force of gravity and her weight by himself. After she suggested that might hurt, he came back with the cheeky quip of, “I’m used to it.” …She rather thought it might be the other way around, but wouldn’t argue.

In fact by the time she’d had enough of her crew mates and declared she was turning in for the night - which earned numerous pretty crude jeers (and several people swift smacks to the back of the head; not least Hicks for causing all this) - Bishop was already back to the room and settled. On a ship that was somehow even bigger than the Sulaco had been, and on their third such mission, Rexanna and Bishop had been afforded their own room. Small, pretty cramped, and not really enough for two people in one space without some tricky navigation – but still, theirs. Which at this point sure beat bunking with every other marine she knew.

Bishop looked up as the door slid open, she stepped inside with a blown-out breath and a shake of her head. “That good, huh?” “Dinner was dinner – you know what it’s like… it’s everyone else.” A small smile, “Oh. I can imagine your best friend was at his most helpful.” Rexanna’s laugh was almost pained, “You got it.”

“As for dinner, I could have made you some myself, but…” Bishop indicated to the state of himself – ports open and skin pulled back in several places. She was surprised that there was no sign of white circulation fluid everywhere. “Oh shit,” she sounded surprised, “when you said upgrades…” “Oh yes.” He nodded, “The company sent along some new data chips, as I said, so I thought they were worth installing.” “Mhm.” But this many? Wow. Rex wondered momentarily if that shipment had anything to do with her – and then thought she was better off not knowing. She approached the side of the bed, sitting gently so as not to jostle him. Sensing she had no more to say than that, and would be content with watching him, Bishop went back to installing the little chips – clicking them into place. Absentmindedly Rex’s fingers went to her necklace, twisting around the chess piece, and then her dog tags. With both these things was a very old data chip of his from when he had previously been fixed up on a mission. Tech that had become obsolete almost as soon as it was made. It would just have been destroyed otherwise – but there was something about this piece that felt too real to Rex. And too surreal as well; being a previous part of his memory core.

She pushed herself across the bed to him as inconspicuously as possible, folding her legs under herself. He’d continue on as normal, of course. Bishop didn’t have that horrible feeling any human did of being watched – and certainly wasn’t one to make any mistakes because of it. Rexanna had a sudden realisation, while watching him. Well – maybe not a realisation, maybe just a resurfacing of something she’d known for a long time, but had kept pushing down. Something she’d almost reached with her spiral earlier before he’d stopped her. But it was so out in the open now that it was unavoidable. She placed her hand gently on Bishop’s free arm, sliding it slowly to entwine their fingers. Even now there was something Rex quite liked about the difference in their skin tones; it never failed to surprise her just how pale he was in contrast to the darker tanned complexion she had. Rexanna realised that beneath that fairly superficial surface (literally), she was just contemplating her own mortality. And, in a strange way, his too. Eventually there would be no more upgrades – he’d be an old, obsolete, discontinued model. To her that almost seemed a worse fate than death. Did he care about things like that? Did he even think about them? Even with whatever agreement she had with Michael Bishop now – which would save him from being scrapped completely – at some point technology would advance so much it just wouldn’t be compatible. She’d would fight long and hard to make sure this wouldn’t happen. But what about after her? How would he cope after that? She’d age and die but Bishop never would. He was a collection of data chips: metal and plastic... No. That was wrong to say. Even if the truth. He was as human as she was – she’d spent the better part of their first mission together relaying that information. There was no debate in her mind at all that he was alive. But…

Bishop paused his working, glancing up to Rex watching him. Although realising that she wasn’t really watching him anymore – he’d lost her again, inside the void of thoughts within her head. He wasn’t sure why today of all days she was going through it. He knew it happened from time to time, but Rexanna didn’t often get this bad. “Ree…” He prompted gently, sounding a little more curious to know her wavelength. He wanted to affirm at least where she was heading. Whether he could bring her back or not. Her expression was almost one of puzzlement too, as she traced her eyes along the inner workings that were still visible, and the small pile of chips he still had to install. “That’s your heart and soul... what makes you, you... without that you-” He cut her off, now very aware that he was correct. All Bishop had managed to do earlier was pause the journey, but it was clear that the ship had left the space station and wouldn’t be back until it’s travels were complete. “Yes, but, it can all be replaced, I mean you’re wearing one, and I’m still the same as I was.” As much as he had a point, that didn’t feel the same to her. Around her neck was a fix out of necessity – he wouldn’t be here without it. This seemed like compliance. For the hell of it. Because technology just would not slow down… She almost laughed. Really, Rexanna was wrong – it was just a different kind of necessity. And at the end of it all, something she couldn’t do. She’d joked about her mind in an android body earlier – but to a point, she was envious that he could just upgrade or fix himself like this. It all seemed too easy. “And I’m just human... I... I’m not gonna last like...” Rex gasped. Seemingly out of nowhere she pulled back from him, placing a hand over mouth, before tears spiked. Bishop was quick to spring into action; snapping everything closed – this could wait. “Hey, hey... No... stop... why are you crying? Don’t- don’t think like that!” “Shit-!” Rex said again from behind her hand, “It’s just so hard!” He pulled her closer, fingertips gently brushing the remnants of the first tears from her cheeks, “This isn’t even something you have to acknowledge for years. Why is it all coming up now?” “Because I do have to think about it…” Her voice strained as she tried to stop herself from really crying hard. “I can’t be in the marines and doing this forever. I’m limited. And even if I can still work somewhere… you’ll remain out here. And that’s just the start of it-!” “You’re not limited… And…” He took a deep breath, encouraging Rex to imitate it, in an attempt to help calm her. “You’re nowhere near that. If anything, at least Earth will be safe for you.” His smile was a little crooked, “I know people say you shouldn’t live in the past but… somehow, Rex, you’ve managed to do the complete opposite.” “Yeah?” “Yeah, you’re living in the far future. And, while I admit it’s always good to look to the future… something tells me I’ve been neglecting to tell you to live in the moment.” He made a face for a second as if trying to recall, searching the room as if it had answers, “Or… someone has.” Rexanna groaned gently, burying her face in his chest, making Bishop wind his arms around her, rubbing her shoulders soothingly as she sniffed, “I’m an idiot.” “No, you just let your mind go wandering a little too far sometimes…” He held her closer, pulling the warmth of her body flush to his, “We can think about our mortality and live like that, sure. But, the truth is, neither of us know how long we have, so we have to make the most of this time. That's what matters!” His head tipped, recalling something else he’d read, “Medical advancements are happening all the time. We probably have at least another 100 years. So, you don’t have to worry about anything for minimum the next 99.” She laughed, which is what he wanted, rubbing her eyes – before shaking her head disbelievingly. Bishop didn’t really care if Rex believed him or not, he just wanted that smile back on her face. “Even if I had a hundred years to love you it wouldn’t be long enough.”

He chuckled, “Well, that’s something we can both agree on.”

---

Thank you for reading! 😚💙

[will80sbyers]

people are being excessively mean to others for clout on places like tiktok and twitter in instances where there is literally no reason to respond in a mean way and I don't think I will ever get it like is it that they need likes for validation because they feel extremely lonely in real life because real life connections with people are rare and the pandemic made things worse and so ganging up on people online with others makes them feel like they are part of something even if that something is negative and is possibly bringing another person to experience extremely negative feelings about themselves or are all these people just a bunch of coward assholes

[mythvoiced]

-. bro... i'm... bro this draft thing is actually working BRO- hehe~

[nobutseriouslywhat]

Look I hate conservatives just as much as the next guy but I'm deeply uncomfortable with the "you can't reason with them they aren't even people" rhetoric that's really popular on this website. Anyone can be rehabilitated. That doesn't mean everyone will, but anyone can be.

[tempestimes]

I'm so tired and need to work but I just want to say how...relieving the process has been for me this few weeks or so of letting go of toxic people, making new friends, and reaching out and reconnecting with old friends. After being in a particularly shitty 'friendship' (it honestly felt more parasitical than anything sometimes), it was so weird to meet people who respect my boundaries and listened to what I had to say, rather than just use me to satisfy their own wants or needs. I'm still working on making sure I set and keep those boundaries up, but yeah. I'm glad I'm making progress.

[acourtofquestions]

Dont be angry, Finnula said. Be smart.

[la-storia-di-lola]

.

[unholyeverything]

I just realised tomorrow marks the 7ths week of me being sick and feeling like garbage lol It's some ups and downs but generally it's been a while since I've been healthy and none knows whats up which is nice.

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[thecherrygod]

Hm