#shell fleet solutions

[transportemx]

400 empresas americanas se mudarán de Asia a México y Shell Telematics tiene soluciones para ellas

Las ventajas competitivas que tiene México gracias a su ubicación, sus tratados comerciales, su amplia red de cadenas de suministro, entre otras, lo han convertido en uno de los países más atractivos dentro de la tendencia del nearshoring en la industria. Para aprovechar al máximo este potencial, el transporte y la logística juegan un papel fundamental, y Shell tiene las mejores soluciones para…

[justshortpedrofics]

Always Comes Back

Wrote this in an hour today after the G2 promo came out. It's not edited, so my apologies for that. I know nothing about the character but he looks good and I couldn't help myself.

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x reader (unspecificed gender, written with a female in mind)

WC: 1.1k

Rating: M for dark themes and some implied smut

Summary: Marcus Acacius always comes back to you, and it's been that way for a long as you can remember.

He always comes back to you. 

He comes back from wherever they’ve sent him to do all of the things that he won’t ever talk about with you, yet he comes straight to you. 

And when he does, you’re there waiting, every single time. 

You’re waiting for him to come back, to come home, even if he can’t call it that anymore. You’re waiting for him to appear in your doorway, his skin bruised and battered, dried blood crusted beneath his nails and in his hair. 

But there’s never blood on his weapons or his armor; he knows better than that - cares more about that part of himself than to ever let something so important go neglected. 

Marcus Acacius doesn’t neglect the things he takes pride in, and you’re one of them. 

His armor is a symbol of his strength, of the victories he’s had on the battlefield in and the rooms of the various castra he’s been housed in. When people see it, they know who he is and what he is capable of. And when people see him, they know it, too. 

He is imposing and fearsome, his full lips more often than not set into a thin line, the man’s brow furrowed as he contemplates what is before him. He is smart and fast, quick with both actions and solutions, his certainty about what must be done inspiring not only the men he leads but those that witness him do so. 

But that isn’t the man you know. 

The man you know - and know well - is the opposite of the one he presents to the public and to the Emperors. 

His hands, so deliberate deadly during battle, touch you with a gentleness he would kill to keep people from knowing he possesses. 

His body, so broad and muscled, perfect for overpowering his enemies and anyone in his way, is used to pleasure yours long into the night. 

His mouth, quick to fire off orders or insults, tone deafening, is nothing less than worshipful of yours, along with your skin. He has never once raised his voice toward you, and he never will; you’re certain of it. 

His eyes, sharp and focused, constantly flitting from one thing to the next to keep himself alert focus only on you -  constantly on you, the softness in them almost enough to make you forget that the time you have together is fleeting. 

There is still enough of him inside the shell of a warrior that you’re able to bring it back each night you spend together, and you’re thankful for it. 

You know that you shouldn’t keep seeing him, keep allowing what is between you to continue. 

You’re well aware of the other woman he shares a bed with and what anyone finding out about you might mean. He would do his best to protect you if the need arose, and you know it. But the simpler thing would be to tell him no, tell him that you cannot watch him walk away from you, time and time again, not knowing what will become of him. That you cannot keep sharing him or his heart or his body, even though you also know that he can’t fully give you anything in entirety, at least yet. 

But after all the years and the battles, after all of the separations and the heartache, after knowing what he does and is expected to do because of his position, he is still not General Acacius to you. 

He’s just Marcus Acacius, the boy you grew up with. The one with dreams and plans, who idolized a different General, many years earlier, and vowed to be just like him someday. He’s the man you shared your first kiss with, just outside of the gates of your home, right before he left to train. He’s the one that came back to you months later, bigger and stronger and still excited for the prospect of more, though you could already see the distance in his eyes.

Marcus took you to bed for the first time that night, solidifying the connection between the two of you. 

When you removed his clothing, gasping at the sight of his body covered in scrapes and bruises, deep purples and blacks and green blooming across his skin, he stayed silent and held you while you kissed every one of them, whispering comfort with each press of your lips. This will heal. You will be fine. You can come home to me and I will do this every time if you let me. I will wait for you. Always. I love you.

And that’s why it’s so hard to let him go; because you love him, and you always have. 

You love him despite the distance. 

You love him despite the pain being without him causes. 

You love him even when he leaves your heart bruised and bloody, in a much different way than he does on the battlefields. 

You love him because even though to you, he will always be Marcus, to them he has become a symbol of so much hope. 

You love him even though you know his love for her has forced his hand, the Emperors using those feelings against him and as punishment to get their way. 

But that makes you love him even more, you think, because while he has allowed them to see what he feels for her, they don’t even know you exist. And to you, that means he keeps you even closer to his heart; keeps you safe and protected at all costs - even that of his own true happiness by prolonging his career and his usefulness. 

His body will break down eventually, and there will be someone younger and stronger in his place, someone more willing to do what he is told. There will be a time when Marcus Acacuis must retire his armor and step back, letting things move forward.

And you’ve talked about that, many times before. What his after would be like, and where you fit in. 

With me, of course. Away from Rome. Away from this. Just the two of us, as it should be. 

And you believe it. 

Because the alternative is unthinkable to you. You refuse to believe that they don’t know you exist because he doesn’t care. You refuse to think that everything he’s ever told you was a lie. You know him better than that; better than anyone, at least according to him. And he wouldn’t have - couldn’t have misled you for years.

So you sit and wait and bide your time with your memories, letting him leave you to fight their wars and do their bidding, to appear with her and appease the people of Rome in a way that makes sense for someone in his position. 

Because he always comes back to you. 

Until he doesn’t.

[thehistoriangirl]

Until Our Secrets Drift Us Apart [8]

Y'all this is horny

I don't sorry but still, fair warning!

Viktor x Fem!Reader---Modern AU/Marriage of Convenience--- 4.9K ---NSFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Summary: Upon the surprising death of the CEO of Daxer Corp., the battle for the presidential chair began with unexpected violence. Threaten to lose everything you’ve been working on during your entire life; it’s time you must find a desperate solution to grasp the control over your part of the emporium, and even your own freedom. Which better idea than solidifying your subsidiary's future than ally with the rising tech company, HexTech? And oh, what a special type of alliance it would be…  

Tags: Not-So-Forced Proximity| Marriage of Convenience| Strangers to Lovers| Domestic Fluff| Post-Wedding|  Crushes | Fake Dating| NSFW Tags: Nipple Play, Grinding, Semi-Public Sex |

Chapter Summary: With winter arrives new blooming feelings that complicate the situation.

What is real, and what is an act?

8: Lover or Stranger

Cold wind flew across the boulevard carrying the winter, which made the living room window mist when Viktor stayed too late at night scribbling away at the coffee table. This time of the year was always rather grim, with dirty snow and the lead sky with no signs of sunlight—it made his bones ache, all his energy drained.

A pain resonated deep within his chest at passing by the one-level houses back to the apartment, with their porches lit gold by the streetlamps like a lighthouse guiding the family home.

While they sat idly on their couches, eyes crinkling with smiles and sounds of laughter echoing by, so fleeting Viktor couldn't even dream about grasping them between his freezing fingers.

Loneliness was a norm by now, as kids didn’t like a child that couldn’t run just like teenagers were too poignant with their words for Viktor to try. He became a boy—a man—between machines.

No matter how hard they beeped and hissed, with their wires breathing life, there was still a void where the sound of an interrupted conversation ought to be.

Thick as the shell was, it started to crack by the time he met Jayce Talis, which made it easier to let the walls down once he got himself in the middle of your life without much of an afterthought.

He started to turn on the AC and closed the door of his bedroom to envelop himself in the warmth that would be stolen once he got inside his car toward work.

This year would’ve been the same, lethargic season it had always been; with the same faded shades of grey and blue he sometimes felt being knitted inside his chest like a blanket too heavy to hold, to even stand up too much.

And yet, he found flashes of colors peeking beneath the enormous layer of grey, black, white, and blue of his everyday heating shirts and robust jackets. Bold pinks and bright oranges beneath your coats, red scarfs that matched the color of your lipstick.

He even started to wear those matching, colorful gloves and hats Jayce not-so-jokingly had bought for last winter’s festival Viktor couldn’t assist due to the ache in his leg.

The living room was decorated in vibrant greens from all the plants you have moved inside since the first snowfall.

Viktor had been at a loss for words once he entered the house earlier than usual—a custom he was taking slowly, unconsciously gazing at the clock once the sun started to dip between the skyscrapers.

Rio was perched in one of the swings Viktor hung from the ceiling, swaying side to side while you were humming, hands busy with the honeysuckle you were trying to perch by the window.

"What are you doing?" he asked, worried that your precarious stance on the stool faded once your head turned toward his voice.

"I'm putting them inside," you huffed, jumping out of the seat. Your fingers were covered with black earth, and the living room was a concoction of at least six different essences of plants mixed with newly made dinner. “They will die in the cold, you know.” You went toward him with a small wisteria whose leaves were starting to get yellow after being in contact with the snow.

Viktor blinked. He barely had the energy to walk from work back to the house, and you were bothering to move all his plants inside the living room.

“I didn’t know you like plants.”

You shrugged, one of the sides of your sweater falling from your shoulder.

"I prefer trees, but these are cute too," you chuckled, putting the wisteria on a coffee table near the balcony. “Trees are more resilient than flowers, but they grow slower.”

“Hmm, yes, that’s true. I’d say that resilience comes from patience,” Viktor said, standing next to you while helping you thread a money plant in the wall over the TV. "Everything that makes you wait is worth for.”

He gazed at you, memories recounting the sensation of your lips against his, how his hands found purchase in the soft skin of your waist.

Yes. Albeit Viktor wasn’t sure if he had the privilege of patience in the actual circumstances.

The least he could do was seize the time presented in front of him before it would slip away alongside those rudimentary sketches of prototypes and hurriedly written to-do lists Viktor ended up locking in a bottom drawer, fearing that Jayce or you could discover it otherwise—could discover it before he’d solved his problem.

Thus take his chances he did, even when he didn't wish to assist this snobby soirée, knowing there would be barely any seats for him to rest, without considering prickling pride of you discovering his diminishing health.

He wished many things from you; pity wasn’t one of them.

It wasn’t like he didn’t catastrophize every once in a silent night, but rather that his mind had started to create a sanctuary, a small pocket of possibilities in which you wouldn’t mind—that you’d be one, maybe the one, not to commiserated him for who he was.

An outsider.

“Vikky!” you called him, fighting among the crowd to make your way next to him. “I found you!” You beamed, looking so breathtaking with your olive dress outlined in golden details, like a nature goddess he could worship any day.

Focus, Viktor.

“I, eh, apologize for vanishing," he mumbled, feeling his cheeks red once your fingers touched his while taking the delicate steam off the glass. "I didn't wish to interrupt your conversation.”

It wasn't that, but the sensation of staying at the edge of a precipice, where a false step and then someone else would push him into oblivion only because he couldn't stand on such treacherous ground—not like you. Or like Jayce.

He watched how you both climbed further and further away that at some point you wouldn’t hear his voice anymore.

“Could you talk with Jayce?”

Between his grim thoughts, Viktor smiled despite himself.

“I did,” he lied. The chargeable air conditioners they were developing to donate to orphanages, shelters, and other organizations could have been discussed with an email.

Part of him was ready to justify. That he was there because he’s your husband, and his job was to back you up. Thought Viktor couldn’t lie to himself so blatantly, he was too curious to see you out in an ambient familiar for you, as he couldn't think of many opportunities he had to get closer to you, fear still pouring out his heart, nerves on edge just waiting for your backtrack. For your regret.

It was a known feeling by now—so many nights looking at the ceiling inside his bedroom while a thousand possibilities passed by, almost any of them auspicious.

What did you think about him? Why did you kiss him that day, when nobody was watching?

“Are you alright?” you muttered, your voice driving him away from the endless spiral of allegations. "I'll give you a taste of my wine to ease you if you want."

“I don’t think getting intoxicated would be the best option if we wished to walk out of this with our reputation intact.”

Especially with all the dirty looks you both were receiving; if it was because of Viktor’s presence in the very selective party or because you've made more enemies in the last few weeks of your last public appearance, he wasn’t sure.

Especially with how he would react once his shame was washed away by the liquor. As now, Viktor found it incredibly difficult to tear his gaze away from how the soft fabric of your dress hugged and fell around all the right places from a tailored piece, something like relief flooding his chest once he saw the golden ring on your left hand glimmering against the light of the chandelier.

You were addictive, he dared to say, the same way he had grown needy of discovery and mastery of his craft. He wished to memorize the sensation of your pliant lips molded against his, how you tasted after snacking on fruit from the bowl while he was working in the living room, that the texture of your hair against his palm could get engraved in his memory just like the smell of your shampoo no matter how long you take to return home.

There was a longing under his touch so hard to contain, an ache that soared and reverberated ever since he looked at you waving him in a hurried goodbye as you were being taken away to chat with some guests, only the outline of your backless dress visible before being devoured by the crowd, terse skin glowing against the hue of the chandelier.

He was embarrassed by how much he wished to touch the delicate curve of your back, theorizing already if you'd shivered once his fingers traced along your spine to then dig in the supple skin of your hips.

Your finger was warm against his cold brow for staying too close to the window when you poked the crest between his eyebrows.

“Easy there,” you muttered, standing right in front of him. “You’ll get  wrinkles here if you keep frowning.”

Viktor chuckled despite himself. “We’re all going to have wrinkles, my dear. I don’t mind.”

You faked a pout, he was already familiar with the shape of your mouth to notice it; how your bottom lip puffed out and quivered, your eyes widening like those of a puppy—all dramatic flair.

A dramatic scene he didn’t mind one bit. Rather…

“Hmmm,” he hummed, looking around the room for any curious guests stealing glances at you. There wasn’t any, and yet Viktor leaned closer to you to steal a kiss from those pouty lips.

Just like a doting husband shall do.

You smiled against him, the hand that wasn’t grabbing the glass of wine against his chest.

Could you feel how his heartbeat scrambled around because of you?

"You're cold," Viktor said once you had parted, the aftertaste of the pastries you'd been eating still clinging to his tongue like a temptation to challenge him to go for another kiss. And another one, and another. His hand ran up and down the curve of your bare shoulders. "Take this."

His coat was too long and too narrow on the chest for you, albeit in his mind the mere thought of the cloth smelling like you made him brace himself against the chilly current of air filtering through the ajar door of the balcony.

"Thank you," you beamed, rolling up the sleeves to fit the size of your arms. "But I think we can go home now. I've talked with Mel already, and that's the only reason why I came, so…"

“Is that so?” Viktor arched an eyebrow. For some reason, he had always imagined you enjoyed yourself in these kinds of events.

After all, he had seen you in a myriad of them during his years of university assisting galas and banquets as one of late Mrs. Daxer's protégé, in a way.

Even if he was just a piece to show off that wealth's compassion was a thing, Viktor got his eyes trained on your figure navigating through the tide of people surrounding you like an amorph halo as if they were sunflowers and you were the sun.

He never thought he could have a chance to stand so close to your rays, for the world had always taught him he was but an ugly, moribund flower that didn’t have a chance to be part of a bouquet.

So Viktor watched, taking as much as he could—from a distance.

Even now, he could compare the images of the young bachelor student you used to be back then and the businesswoman you had become.

Though your world tried to make you endure, the shine in your eyes persisted yet slightly muted, though now Viktor could observe glimpses of that unrestrained delight every once and then.

Just like when Rio dropped that seed on the bar for you.

Ever so insignificant for others, and yet you had the little seed in a pot inside your room, all protected from the harshness of the season.

 How much time had he dedicated to thinking about you in the last few months?

Viktor was afraid of answering because, for the first time in so long, work wasn't the only priority posing on his mind.

“We can go now if you want,” you said, leaning closer to his chest so nobody in the vicinity could hear you. “Besides, it seems it’s about to snow at any moment. Driving could get dangerous.”

Viktor shivered when your hand slid down his arm until stopping in the crook of his elbow with a gentle pat. He wasn't sure if the culpable was the chilly wind blowing at his back from his place tucked between a pillar and the entrance of the lonely balcony.

Before you could pull away, his fingers brushed the reverse of your palm, with him enjoying how your eyes sought his.

“Perhaps you could concede me a dance first?” he heard himself saying, almost deluding himself he just did it in his mind. “Could warm me up before getting out into the cold.”

“I didn’t consider you like to dance. I would’ve asked you to dance first before I went away to talk with potential investors.”

With small steps, Viktor guided you to a corner of the ballroom, the handle of his cane locked in the crook of his elbow so both his hands were free to take you in between his arms.

“I’m not a good dancer,” he said, loathing how his cheeks felt hot after the confession. “But I have great company I wish to spend a moment with.”

“You don’t have to impress me, Viktor.” You put your hand over his left shoulder, feeling the soft patch of his back brace underneath. “I’m not one of those sponsors you need to convince.”

It wasn’t a need, but rather a childish desire.

He cleared his throat, not wishing any kind of improper thoughts to get ahold of his mind.

“Sometimes I forget it. Because you’re still part of this world.”

Your chuckle reverberates against his chest when you lay your cheek over his shoulder, steps matching in a slow and intimate melody.

“I’m not. Not really,” you mumbled, face looking away from his seeking eyes. “A fish being dragged inland is forced to grow legs to walk or else it’ll die. Would you say it belongs on the surface then?"

Viktor swallowed, words slipping out of his brain as he tried to roll them out his tongue. He had never been great at eloquence, which was why Jayce is the face of HexTech and not him.

This wasn’t a pitch sell, though, so he wanted to believe you didn’t expect a well-rehearsed line filled with bland and dishonest words.

“Where do you think you belong?” Where do you think I belong?

“I don’t have many options where to choose from, do I?” You raised your head to lock eyes with him. “The orphanage, without a family name, or with a stolen one? I don’t think either of those are especially welcomed.”

Viktor smiled. "And what about creating your own?" he muttered, his body adjusting to the new rhythm of the song starting to play.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you admitted, defeat and shame tinting your voice from being heard too loud. “It’s been so long since I’ve lived under someone else’s name that…” you sighed, trying to form a smile that wasn’t lacking in sourness. “I shouldn’t be saying this out in the open.”

Viktor nodded. “You’d never know if you don’t try, hmm?” he offered, extending his arm for you to twirl, your skirt hitting his legs.

“Do you speak for experience?”

He tended to forget about your background, that perhaps at the beginning you weren’t as different as sometimes his mind obliged him to consider albeit it could give him hope that maybe the differences weren’t too grand for you two to try.

He didn’t like to be considered a fool carried away by feelings. Viktor was an engineer for a reason—leaving high hopes out of the equation, where they couldn’t enter through the polarized glass doors of the lab.

“I do,” Viktor said, patting the small of your back before retreating his hands. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

The windows of the car were fogged once you slipped inside, freezing air cutting at your face in the open parking lot.

Viktor groaned when he sat against the driver’s seat, the joints of his legs creaking after being standing up for quite a while.

“Do you want me to drive?” you said, your gaze burnt into his side profile as he took the seat belt with frozen fingers.

“I’ll get warmer soon. Don’t worry.” While the engine purred alive, Viktor took the steering wheel and decided to give you some answers about his life, in the remote case you’d be willing to do the same.

“I decided to leave my hometown and chase my chances in the city of progress when I was around sixteen years old." He tried to gesture away, but his hands were too numb from walking out of the building down to the basement, so he only got them hit against the windshield with a mumbled curse and his cheeks embarrassingly red. “I had your mother to thank for giving me a chance to enroll in such a prestigious university. She gave me a chance when many others just gazed past me.”

You parted your lips with a muffled ‘pop’ in the charged silence, windows blocking the blows of wind from a desert highway.

“Did you accept my offer because you feel like you owed my mother?” you asked quietly.

Viktor observed the bleak landscape outside, the night black with snow starting to fall out of the sky like small ghosts haunting the darkness.

“I did not,” Viktor said simply, not daring to gaze upon you.

It was a half-truth, but he didn’t dare to say it whole.

Not yet.

"I did it for HexTech," he ended up saying, closing his eyes with regret for a moment once the car stopped at a red light. It was too late to backtrack now. “It’s part of our dream, as you may know. It’s an opportunity we couldn’t pass.”

You chuckled, facing toward the window. "Of course. I thank you for accepting, nevertheless. I think you’re the only one who would do something like that.”

“Thank you, I assume?” he replied, voice filled with faux offense, which made you giggle.

“It was a compliment.”

He shrugged. “Sure sounded like one.”

"I want to thank you for accompanying me tonight," your voice flew softly inside the vehicle, as if time had stopped and you were inside one snow globe. “I enjoyed it, unexpectedly. And… it was because of you.”

“Did youenjoy it because of me?”

You crossed your legs, trying to appear easy-going though Viktor could see your hands fidgeting with the edge of your dress. “I usually don’t enjoy going to parties like those—I always have to be mingling and smiling and making chit-chat you won’t remember tomorrow. But alas, it’s work, too.” You shrugged, your finger drawing faces on the window. “But today was different.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Different how?”

“I felt at ease,” you chuckled, looking at the looming apartment complex approaching. “I do when I’m with you. So… thank you.”

He couldn’t know if it was the alcohol you had drank, or if the special circumstances had driven you so to speak so comfortably in his presence; maybe it was the many weeks passing by in each other's company inside the apartment, how you were more than existing together in the same space.

“It is my pleasure,” Viktor said, extending his arm so you could give him his coat as your body leaned toward the back, grabbing all the jackets and sweaters before heading outside. "I enjoy your company, too." Much more than just enjoying it, but it was a step closer to admission.

“That’s good,” you chuckled. “Or else it’ll be a rather awkward marriage.”

“And you’re just saying it now?” Viktor teased, hands brushing each other’s when you passed him his long, heavy brown coat. You rolled your eyes, though the corner of your mouth raised in a sheepish smile. “We should head inside before the car grows colder.”

You smiled at him from the copilot seat, so close he could take a whiff of the special perfume you wore for these types of occasions; with jasmines and sandalwood, a touch of lavender to calm down your nerves. “Wait a little. I want to stay here for a bit. It feels… good.”

Viktor had counted his drinks with diligence tonight. Two glasses of red wine and half a flute of champagne, which to him wasn’t much, accustomed to stronger drinks from back home, and yet… he couldn’t restrain himself this time.

The small locks of hair tickled your forehead when he leaned toward you, eyes locked into the other in a silent spell that seemed to envelop the quiet ambiance inside the car half-tucked between the shadows of the parking lot and the nearest streetlight, making your eyes shine like stars.

“Jsi krásná,” he muttered, your eyes widening slightly as his hand cupped your cheek.

By now, he was getting used to the way you felt against him every time you kissed, though it was always a marvel trying to guess where your hands would be this time, either in his hair or cupping his cheeks, maybe over his chest, seeking his accelerated heartbeat.

But it was never enough. And it was oh so terrifying.

You dipped your head so he could take the lead, slipping his tongue inside your mouth to taste the sweetness of the dark chocolate with strawberries that still clung to you, so deliciously mixed with the sour essence of the wine you had cheered with all night.

A little moan escaped your lips, his fingers sliding down the outline of your jaw, barely brushing the soft skin of your neck and the halter of your dress, a piece of silk and jewelry that felt so easy to unclip beneath his gifted, crafty hands.

It was a rather selfish desire, the one to take you in so much that he ended up engraved in your memory once this contract arrived at its end, wishing that perhaps that way he could make you stay.

You sighed his name between kisses, your nails gently scratching his skull, fingers tangled in his hair. He replied the only way he could, breathing your name like a prayer once he tugged you closer, defying the separation between the two seats.

It was the first time he felt your weight atop his; such a blissful sight of you gazing down toward him, hair framing them away from the outer world as your hands kneaded at his shoulders. Even in dreams, he could've never matched how it felt to truly have you between his arms.

You were bold tonight, too, stumbling across your seat to settle on his lap. Even if your pulse was too agitated to unbutton his vest and shirt as fast as he did to unclip the ends of your halter dress.

“Mmmm,” you hummed, Viktor’s eyes growing a burnt amber hue at taking in the sight of your skin covered in goosebumps against the cold air, nipples hard and small. “Viktor.”

He hovered his lips over the right one, his hot breath making it grow softer and bigger. It was your opportunity to turn away, to tug the ends of your dress from your waist upwards, and call it all a mistake.

And yet, you only arched your back at him, your nipple brushing against his ajar lips before he sucked it inside his mouth, drawing it around his teasing tongue as his hand sought the warmth of your skin, pinching the other small bud in rhythm with his licks.

“… Vikky…” Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently as your lips repeated his name in keen sights and lewd moans matching his.

The hand grabbing your hips caught the movement of your grinding against his lap now that he had woken up and gone hard at the taste of your body lotion, of your skin in his mouth, and the way you were leaning so needily against him.

“Call me Vitya, moje láska. Please.”

Your pants mixed with his made the windows of the car fog up so much Viktor was surprised there was still oxygen inside the closed space.

You looked down at him, hands gently cradling his cheeks. “Vitya?”

He flicked your nipple between his fingers. “Mmmhmm.” His voice was gentle, merely above a whisper while praising you in his natal Czech. He had no other choice—he mumbled all the loving words he didn’t dare to speak in English, too afraid still of your rejection as he passed from one pampered nipple to the other, enjoying how it had changed color thanks to all his attentions, the scientific, always-curious part of him thinking how much your skin would change in tone under his bites and kisses.

Between the hot coil starting to pour down between his legs and pressing uncomfortably against his pants, he saw the yellow headlights of an upcoming car.

Sure, the windows were all fogged up by now, but he couldn’t assure whoever was going to enter the parking lot couldn’t notice them in such a… compromising position. Married couple or not.

He called your name, though as soon as he did Viktor was sure you did not hear it, too lost in the repetitive motion of your hips buckling against the hardness in his pants.

Then, he bit your nipple, teeth pulling it harsher than he had done.

Hissing you tugged his head away, your eyes dark with lust and brows furrowed, both aroused and confused.

“Vik… Vitya?”

He felt his cheeks hot red, and Viktor knew the blush crept up his ears and down his chest. “E-eh… someone’s coming.”

You blinked through your passion. Once. Twice.

Before your brain could wire the information, the sound of the car’s engine echoed in the underground parking lot, and you jumped, scrambling toward your seat while covering your breasts with your hands.

“Oh, shit! Sorry, sorry!” you exclaimed, jumping out from him into the copilot seat, hands hurriedly taking your dress upwards to cover your hard nipples. “I’m sorry. We… um, we should get inside now,” you muttered, your hand wiping down the fog layered in the window of the car. “Well, maybe once the other people get down their vehicle.”

“I… I suppose so,” he said, shaky fingers buttoning up his shirt.

Perhaps it was for the best, that the cold air would calm down the lustful thoughts running through his mind enough that you wouldn’t notice the bulge in his pants once you entered the well-lit apartment.

“Viktor?” you said once he opened the entrance door with shaky hands, and after had dropped the keys at least twice before the victory.

“I… eh, I’ll take a quick shower,” he excused, passing next to you as fast as his cramped leg would permit him. Because your close presence and the recurring thoughts of you weren’t helping him to calm down.

The freezing air only made him fantasize how warm the bedroom would turn out if he dared to invite you to his bed tonight.

But you both had taken alcohol and perhaps it was just a spur of the moment—a defeated sigh and annoyed grunt in the morning once the events of last night had sunk in completely.

He didn’t want to be a mistake for you, because you wouldn’t be one for him.

So Viktor preferred to wait. He’d been patient for almost eight months now, he could wait a little bit more, too.

In the meantime, he would try to win your heart.

[bathic]

2. A means to an end.

Word Count: 1.9k

The expectation was death, how could it not be when you’ve taken a headfirst stumble down into a cavernous hole. It had to have a bottom. A means to an end. A place where you’ll rest, where your bones will be shattered and scattered for soil to eventually cover, blood to water the ground and guts to feed the insects lying in wait.

But you didn’t.

Plummeting through inky darkness didn’t conclude with your demise but rather after what felt like hours (but simply a handful of minutes) falling down an infinite rabbit hole did the shadows fade from your vision and a cacophony of lights gather in a swirling tunnel below you. To you, in a fleeting thought, did they look to be dancing. Like fireflies in the summer, blinking in and out of sight. A part of it made you sick to look at, thinking that this was that metaphorical light at the end of it all. And of course, yours just had to be something drowned in bitter feelings. Summer and fireflies and the blinking of their lights in the humid evenings— dancing around your beaten body with ignorant glee. You loathed them.

You wished they would hurry to you and drown you in their luminescence. End every bit of your suffering through this free fall. Make the welts that have scarred over so much that the skin is bubbled and uneven, rough and layered, completely disappear.

With a pop, and the realization that there hadn’t been not a single sound since you’ve entered the pit, a grand orchestra of noises blasted through your ears and bounced around your head until it became too much to bear. Something wet caught around the curve of your earlobe and dragged like a dog’s tongue up and over the outer shell. You’d lift a hand to wipe at whatever it was, facing red stains that smeared across your fingertips when pulling your hand back to observe. The lights had grown brighter by now, their approach swirling together and stretching into finely pointed lines that threatened to snag your body and sink into every battered fiber of your wrought soul.

Wishful thinking or perhaps, depressive thoughts.

But no matter the steadfast approach of those lights, you wouldn’t be meeting them in any death riddled embrace. Instead, you and something else or another collide mid-air, the impact yanking you harshly off-course and barreling into a netted roof. You bounce harshly, smacking into the rope and flipping over the edge of it with what— or who— right on your heels.

The second landing proved much harder, clipping a well-worn canopy that didn’t stand a chance against you and the ‘who’ that tore right through its weak fibers. Below it was the ground, hard and wet. Your body hit it with a rather heavy ‘plap’, stomach down, halfway into a sludge puddle that jumped and scattered to soak into your clothing. A bit off from the mark was the tag-a-long, crashing into several stacked boxes that splintered into many fragmented chunks, some of which ricocheted off the backs of your legs.

Logically, you’d be dead. Realistically, you’d also be dead— or at least heavily injured to the point that death would be the only solution.

But you weren’t, just a bit dazed and pressed for the sweet feeling of air passing through your lungs; having it knocked and stolen never was a pleasant experience. The fabric of your jeans felt heavy and oddly sticky, clinging to your legs as you shifted onto your back, allowing more of the puddle’s remaining ichor to soak into the cotton of your tee. A small gripe at the back of your mind, groaned in hopes of it just being rainwater and not something vomit-inducing. You don’t think you’d be able to stomach the possibility of lying in… well, waste of some sort.

Beyond your bare feet was a groan capped off with several foul-mouthed grievances, a bit of shifting and the occasional wood bit sliding rough across the ground. It was stone, you could feel the partially smooth surface and bleeding jagged edges beneath your hands.

“Hey, are you dead? ���Cause you better hope you are.”

You stir enough to bend a knee just as the owner of the voice (and the several rounds of pearl-clutching ramblings) was suddenly leaning over into your vision like a curious bird does a small and insignificant lizard. While his face was difficult to see with the varying stringed lights crossing over one another just above where you landed, what wasn’t was his clearly projected threat.

“Oh, guess you aren’t.”

Very much like a beetle who had been overturned by a handsy child, you scuttled as best as you could across the stony ground and away from the stranger, but the traction of your soaked jeans mixed with the wet stones only made you kick around in place comically. Well, at least he seemed to find it a little amusing if not by the teasing giggle and tilted head. Still, you couldn’t make out what his expression was.

The humor could very well be misplaced and the opening for some entirely different emotion— a close relative to his threat only seconds ago.

“Did the stag’s get your tongue or what?”

You coughed, throat feeling hoarse and dry as dirt after a month-long drought. “Stag’s?”

“Yeah, the stag’s— you know, down by the rot.” He waited for you to give any kind of indication that you knew what he was talking about but seeing as you still looked up at him like he was some kind of bizarre entity spewing utter nonsense (which wasn’t exactly far off); it was telling that you didn’t, in fact, know what he was referring to.

“Forget it, you clearly weren’t there. Otherwise, if you were then you wouldn’t have been able to say anything.”

You blink, once then twice and contemplate screaming for help but who, in actuality, would? In a foreign place that you happen to crash land into after nosediving into a gigantic hole, whoever resided here in this place are patrons of the pit. Mysterious and strange and foreign—

And possibly dangerous.

That thought alone settled a heavy rock in your gut, a wariness building up in the back of your legs that traveled all the way up your neck where the hair there stood on edge.

You hadn’t realized he had still been talking.

“— so that could really only be the case. Obviously only recently winged moths would fly as terrible as you. I mean, seriously, no offense but your form was atrocious. Who even fly’s straight down like that?” He pauses, and for some reason that makes you tense up. Nothing good came from a halted thought.

“Unless...” He starts after a brief moment, head eerily adjusted into an uncanny downward crane that looked ever more ominous by the obscurity of his face. “You aren’t a moth at all… say, what did you say you were?”

The warning sirens blared hard and loud within your head, screaming at you to move, to kick off the ground and run and to not be so helpless for once. Because that was what you were— are.

“I… I didn’t say I was anything.”

“Oh? I guess you didn’t. But that wasn’t the answer I was looking for; I want to know whether or not you are—“

“Wooyoung!”

The man quickly turns on his heels, and the ever-growing stronghold of his presence shrinks as another figure appears with some kind of flourishing of fabric at their back. You couldn’t tell by how the man standing by you seemed to block your sight from painting a fuller and clearer picture, but you assumed it was some kind of cloak.

“What the hell happened? I took my eyes off of you for one second and the next thing I see is you eating roof rope and disappearing to the ground.” Steadfast did the newcomer approach, oblivious of you soaking in stagnant puddle water.

Wooyoung huffs, kicking a booted toe at the stone ground. “Wow, Yunho, not a single— ‘Are you okay?’ or even, ‘Are you hurt anywhere? If so, let me kiss it better’. I’m really beginning to think that my well-being is nothing but lint on your blouse.”

“You and I both know that if you were well and truly injured then you wouldn’t be yapping to yourself.”

Yet he wasn’t, this Wooyoung. He hadn’t been talking to himself this entire time and he knew that, and you knew that and now you were sure that the freshly inserted stranger would come to know as well.

“Funny, but I wasn’t talking to myself.” He shifts his body to the side, enough to remove the wall blocking your view of whoever he was speaking to and give said person a shabby eyeful of your surely unpresentable form.

A tall man with broad shoulders and lanky arms and slightly humidity-curled brown hair stood perplexed at the sight of you. Like the unveiling of something unexplainable that— rather— than urged forth the need for further inquiries, just completely swiped everything into an empty space of utter silence.

You looked at him like he was another Wooyoung.

“Oh… hello.” His gaze jumps to the other man, a jolt of his eyebrows upwards feeding for an explanation.

“She’s the reason I crashed.”

“Her? Seriously?” Yunho glossed over you from the frazzled state of your hair to the dirt powdering your bare feet.

“You’re joking?”

Wooyoung throws his hands up, something on his back fluttering restlessly, the movement catching your attention. “Do I sound like I am joking? She smacked right into me and sent me hurling to the ground!”

“I did not— you… you… whatever you did or were doing had hit me hard enough to throw me to the side.” Not exactly sure what bug of confidence had crawled into your head, but you found your voice enough to retort defensively.

“If you had been watching where you were going and didn’t fly into my path—“

“Fly? I was falling, you motor-mouthed idiot!”

“Motor-mouth?!” Wooyoung took a stiff step towards you, his fists balled at his sides.

Yunho reached a hand out to latch onto his upper arm before he could close in on you any further. “A word, Wooyoung.”

The shorter man let himself be maneuvered several feet away, enough distance to drown their whispers into a dull hum. You couldn’t pick up what they were saying, only watching cautiously when Wooyoung’s hands fly up and wave around and Yunho clapping him on the back of the head before huddling him closer. It was like a barrier of secrets between the two of them, no space spared an opening to let anything slip through.

And then they went silent, turning to face you with partial obscurity graced by the shadows and lighting now at both of their backs.

You swallowed, wishing your tongue would have slipped down your own throat, suddenly regretting your outburst.

════════════════════════════════════

Masterlist

[nahalism]

Do you have any advice for feeling so shitty in yourself pls 🥺 like my skin is so bad at the moment, I’m so so unhappy with my weight gain. I don’t know where to start in fixing it or how to even get the energy to, feeling like this should be enough, but it isn’t. Idek how to explain.

But I’m so unhappy, I feel so ugly and disgusting.

i wish i could climb in your skin and place my own philosophy in it. <3 — this is the thing, lets say you're ugly, your spotty, and your fat, and that that will never change. does that mean you dont deserve love? or to feel good in your favourite outfit? that you dont deserve kindness? or consideration? that you shouldnt be seen as valuable, sexy, worth love, worth affection? does it mean that you should hide and stop showing up in the world in the way you want to?

i can think of a million reasons why that isnt the case. the problem is, any advice i give you in solution to the problems youve stated can only be superficial because the issues your speaking on are on the surface. i could tell you how i get my self together when i feel how your describing, or how i got rid of my acne, how i lost weight etc, but the real issue is beyond the surface. its about how you feel about you

who are you? what is your character? how do you show up in the world? where do you bring value? what are your biggest virtues? how do you combat your biggest vices? do you treat yourself with compassion? do you extend that compassion to others? what does your humanity look like?!? what does your love feel like?— these are the things that make someone beautiful. — and in terms of what is attractive and sexy, its so much deeper than appearances. sure appearance is important, especially in society. i wont ignore that, but society advocates for a whole lot of crazy shit. there are trends, and then there is what is timeless. the essence of what you are is timeless, holding it to the standard of a fleeting trend is short sighted. you have to value yourself for what you are, not what you look like or what what you look like means for how others treat you. only once you have some self respect will your external begin to match, because people who love themselves act lovingly toward themselves. its a ripple effect.

in terms of looks and feeling yourself, which is very important, you have to question, if someone is willing to count all of who and what you are out because of what you look like, is that someone you want? anyone of us could have an accident that changes our appearance forever. what then? what you feel about yourself and how you carry yourself as a consequence, is what makes you alluring. when someone is into YOU (not your shell) and (tmi but..) turns you on, or makes you moan, or sees you happy (!!) that is infinitely more attractive to them than you having the perfect body or appearance. because even the most perfect person is not perfect (& they know it, they just have you convinced that theyre as good looking as they feel or portray themselves to be). literally its all about youuuu. if you cant see that, you will always try to cover you up, so no one else will see it. nor will anyone make you able to see it. you need to step up and treat yourself with some humanity. you are a whole being, created uniquely and entirely complete. completion is perfection.

if u want my skincare routine, or how i lost weight, or literally whatever information im happy to share it. but 100000s of other people already have their routines out there for u to follow. i mean it with the utmost love and respect when i say, u need to start looking at yourself as a living, breathing being with so much to offer and so much potential for growth beyond what you already have to give. have some self compassion. you are beautiful and worth your own love, let alone other peoples. acknowledge yourself before time shows you how blind youre being. 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

[0perfectimperfections0]

Shell-Shock: Part 6

Don't you guys love it when someone finally updates a series after it's been, like, months and you have to reread everything prior to that just to remember what all happened?

Well, the writer has to do the exact same thing...so...

_______

The wind died down and the storm clouds settled. They still loomed overhead, but the lightning left as soon as it had come. The lights in the Institute calmed down, glowing slightly dimmer, as if trying to hide. Lou didn’t look behind him at the others or the crowd of dolls that were frozen in shock and fear. His eyes watched the smoke roll off the robots and into the air. The oversized bullet still had streams of electricity trailing over it periodically. 

He didn’t know what had overcome him at that moment. He had been storming off to go to the recycle the second the opportunity presented itself for him to sneak away. The next thing he knew, the herd of robots chasing and cornering the dolls had caught his attention from a distance, and something emotionally overpowered him. 

Now he didn’t know what to do. He was exposed, everyone knew now, and there were dead robots scattered across the ground. He should have just left to go to the recycling. His powers seemed to only be making things worse. Lou didn’t have the courage to turn around and face the other dolls. Whatever had overcome him before was gone. 

A hand rested on his leg, and Lou didn’t have to look to know it was Ox. The whole Institute was dead silent, save for the tremulous murmurs of the crowd. Ox spoke softly. “How…did you do that?”

Lou didn’t know how to answer that question. Had he even thought about what he was doing? It felt like adrenaline and anger and fear had been coursing through him and the only way to let it out was…

“I don’t know.” Is what he said instead of trying to explain all the thoughts slamming around in his head. 

One thing had to be done, though, and that was to try to figure out how to get the crowd to calm down. Their murmurings were becoming more audible, and Ox could pick out a few sentences here and there. None of which held any kind of respect for the fact that Lou had saved their lives. But from their perspective, Lou being stronger than them in any sense couldn’t be a good thing. They had insulted and tossed him around. Subjected him to ridicule to, arguably, a worse extent than what he had subjected them to. They kind of had a good reason to be afraid. Lou could very well justify turning against them. 

Ox turned to face the crowd, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he thought about how to go about doing this. He raised a hand to get their attention, offering a nervous smile to the crowd. “So…that happened. Nothin’ to worry about, though, we’ve got it all under control. Right, Moxy?” Moxy stiffened, eyes widening, when Ox addressed her with a pleading look. She quickly nodded and walked over to stand by his side, sweeping a look over the dolls. “Uh, yeah! We’ll clean up the mess here and everyone can go back to normal!” 

That did very little to appease the crowd. The dolls looked a little irate at the vague solution to the elephant in the room. One of them spoke up, vaguely gesturing to Lou. “And what about him? Did you know about this?”

Ox faltered for a second, glancing beside him at Lou. The blond exchanged a look with Ox, just as uncertain with how to handle the situation. Ox cleared his throat and put on a more assertive look. “The point is, Lou ain’t a threat, alright? He just saved our lives. We’re figurin’ this all out, too, so there’s no reason to jump off the deep end.”

Another doll spoke up, just as heated as the previous doll. “He destroyed a whole fleet of robots. What doesn’t make him a threat, exactly?”

“He ain’t a threat to us.” 

“He could be! I’m not putting my trust into the same doll that lied to me my whole life!” Other dolls began to murmur their agreement. Ox was feeling like this was taking a turn in the wrong direction. It was like the scene at the Gauntlet all over again. And still, Lou was the target of their anger. 

You’ve only been alive for a few months, Lou couldn’t help but think bitterly towards the doll that had just spoken. He didn’t feel like he had much room to put in a sassy remark, though, because his life was on the line.

But was it? These dolls couldn’t lay a finger on him, and that was probably the catalyst driving their fear more than anything else. The fact that Lou posed as a threat to them, and they couldn’t toss him in the washer or toss him to the dog again. They were helpless against him if he actually chose to do anything.

Ox held a hand up and waited a minute for the protests to die down. He rubbed his temple with a finger before giving them a hard look. “Alright, here’s the reality of the situation. Lou has powers and we ain’t in any position t’ tell ‘im what t’ do. If ya’ll are scared, stay inside. But Lou ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“So, what, we’re just at his mercy now?” Another doll spoke up angrily. 

Ox didn’t get a chance to respond - not that he really had a good answer to that question, anyway - because Mandy suddenly spoke up, looking around. “Wait, guys, where did he go?”

The bunny blinked and turned to see that, once again, Lou had vanished. He pulled down his ears, tugging on them and trying not to get frustrated. There was so much going on right now and he had no idea how to handle any of it. “How does he keep doin’ that!?”

The dolls in the crowd began to panic again as they realized Lou was now “on the loose” as some chose to phrase it. Moxy tried to placate them. “Okay! Everyone calm down and just head home, alright? We’ll find him,” she offered a tense smile that had little effect on the crowd, but they relented and began to slowly disperse back to their homes. The portal was still closed, anyway. There was little else they could go. Moxy turned back to Ox, her tense smile fading immediately into worry. “How are we gonna find him now?”

Ox stared at her with a pinched expression, not even knowing if there was a chance that they could find Lou. They hadn’t even found him the first time. He had come back to them. Nolan, however, walked up beside Moxy, looking at Ox gravely. “I think I might know where he went off to.”

_____

Lou stared at the lifeless machine. He should have expected that the Uglies would turn the recycling off. What good was it now that they were being distributed in the Big World? He stood at the edge of the pipe that opened up into the cavity of the recycling centre. This had been his initial plan from the start, and now what was he supposed to do? Where could he go?

“Lou?”

The blond closed his eyes, rolling them behind his eyelids before opening them again and turning to face the group of mixed dolls. Ox was the one that had spoken, his ears flopped back as he took in what Lou had been aiming to do. His expression hardened quickly, though. “You know as well as I do that killin’ yourself ain’t the answer.”

“Because you seem to have all the answers, don’t you?” Lou retorted back, but his voice was softer. Defeat. It echoed hollowly through the pipe. 

Nolan put a hand on Ox’s shoulder when the bunny was about to respond. Nolan took a few steps forward, a hand on his chest. “Can we just talk? Away from the deadly, doll-eating machine?” His voice shook a little, but it was his best attempt at making the situation a little more lighthearted. 

Lou didn’t think there was much to talk about, but he obviously wasn’t getting anywhere with a machine that wasn’t even on. Begrudgingly, he walked back towards the group, giving Nolan a hard glare. “It’s not even on, you know.”

“Yeah, well, doesn’t really make for a good atmosphere,” Nolan shrugged. “We want to help you, though, and it’s kinda hard to do that when you’re trying to destroy yourself at every chance you get.”

“The last time I trusted you guys, I ended up locked in a room,” Lou swept his gaze over to the others behind Nolan. A few looked away sheepishly, but Ox and Wage maintained his stare. 

“If it’s any consolation, that wasn’t my idea,” Nolan pursed his lips with a not-so-subtle glance over his shoulder at the others. Namely Ox. The bunny merely redirected his glare onto the brunette instead. Nolan faced Lou again. “Destroying yourself isn’t an option anymore-”

“Just turn the machine on,” Lou bit out through clenched teeth. “Actually, you know what? I’ll turn it back on myself.” He moved to brush past the group, but Nolan grabbed his wrist, forcing the blond to stop as he whirled on the brunette.

Nolan spoke before Lou could say some scathing remark. “Destroying yourself,” Nolan punctuated his words more harshly, “isn’t an option anymore. Your Creator just sent a whole fleet of robots to capture you. Something tells me he’ll flip if he finds out you offed yourself and will burn this place down just to get his anger out.”

“You want me to play hero now? Is that what we’re doing?” Lou retorted sarcastically, eyes narrowed. “Look, I don’t even know how I did what I did back there. That was a fluke. And that’s not even regarding the fact that I still hate these stupid abilities and that I want to die.”

“Well, you’re also not regarding the fact that you’re one step closer to controlling them and that we don’t want you to die, so,” Nolan left the sentence hanging as he gave Lou a sassy look right back. Two could play at that game. 

Lou narrowed his eyes. “You’re annoying.”

Nolan mimicked the expression, unphased. “And you’re stubborn.” He released Lou’s wrist and started walking back out of the pipe. The others looked between the two with varying incredulous expressions. 

Lou stayed where he was, scoffing at Nolan’s retort. “Let me guess, you want me to follow? More experiments to try and control my powers?”

“Nope. We’re gonna clean up the mess first that you were about to leave for us to clean up on our own,” Nolan turned on his heels to walk backwards, arching a brow at the blond, “thanks for that, by the way.”

Lou squinted and shook his head a little. Despite the circumstances and his growing frustration with these dolls…he couldn’t deny they were beginning to grow on him a little. And it seemed like Nolan had a bit more attitude to him than the blond originally took him for. With a final glance to the others, Lou rolled his eyes and followed after Nolan. The group exchanged confused, yet slightly intrigued looks before following suit out of the pipe.  

_____

The only place they could put the damaged bots was in the ocean. Wage helped Ox toss one of them over the cliff, waiting for the impact against the water before heading back to grab another one. “You really think it’s a good idea for Lou to stay here?”

Ox jabbed a thumb behind them. “He defeated a whole army of robots. He saved our lives, Wage. So, yeah, I think it’s a good idea.”

She shook her head. “I’m not saying he didn’t save our lives…but accidents do happen.”

“You think he accidentally saved our lives?”

“No…more along the lines of it was on purpose this time, but what if he accidentally hurts someone? What if he loses control again? Maybe this was a fluke and…I-I don’t know…” She trailed off, losing her train of thought with where she was going with it, only to realize that was the point of her statement. “Don’t you just think it’s weird he suddenly learned how to use his abilities like that?”

“Look, we don’t know anything ‘bout all of this as it is. I don’t think we can start overthinkin’ things yet till we learn more ‘bout what’s goin’ on with ‘im.” Ox’s gaze trailed over to where Lou and Nolan were tossing another robot off the cliff. “We need ‘im right now…that much is sure.”

Lou watched the white foam of the ocean envelope the robot before descending back to its source. He had half a mind to throw himself over the edge. It would be so easy, too…just…barely half a step–

“Lou?”

The blond looked back at Nolan, seeing that concerned look again that all the dolls had now. Most of them were concerned for their own safety. He took one last look at the ocean before walking back to Nolan. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t, which was evident enough that Nolan didn’t need Lou to admit it. But Lou still had to admit it to himself. 

“How long are you going to lie to yourself like this?”

Lou glared at the brunette as they walked back to the carnage. “I’m not lying to myself.”

“You’re not fine–”

“Because I’m a freak now?”

“Is that what you call this?” Nolan gestured to all of him. “You think you’re a freak because why?”

Lou whipped around to face the doll now, eyes glowing. “Because look at me! Look at what I’ve done!” He swung an arm towards the damaged robots. 

Nolan barely spared a glance behind him. “Saved our lives?”

“Just because you weren’t the one hurt doesn’t mean I saved lives.”

Nolan couldn’t help but just stare in bewilderment even as Lou turned back around to keep walking. “They were robots, Lou, not…not sentient beings like us.”

“Us?” Lou shot back over his shoulder. 

Fists clenched and Nolan sped to catch up with the blond, stepping in front of him to block his path. “You’re not a robot, okay? You’re not a machine or device or–”

“Weapon?”

Nolan went quiet. 

Lou looked between his eyes, speaking lowly. “Maybe the only reason my Creator kept me alive was to be a weapon. Because if he can control me to do whatever he wants…then who can stop him, right?”

“Can you at least do us all a favor and stop making it so difficult for us to get through to you?” Nolan’s voice was rising now in frustration. “We’re not your enemies here, alright? We’re trying to help you.”

Lou glared at the brunette, leaning in to speak lowly. “That’s real rich coming from the same doll that tossed me in that washer.” Nolan opened his mouth to retort, but Lou kept talking. “Look, I made my peace with some of those sock puppets. They were following Moxy’s lead. You made your own choice. Ox made his own choices. Moxy made her own choices. Every mindless doll in this institute made their own choice to turn on me–”

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t have been such a jerk! Ever think about that? You called me ugly ever since I stepped foot here and for no reason! At least I’m able to go to the Big World!”

“Sorry I hurt your stupid feelings! But news flash, everyone gets called stuff that they’re not! Perfect, ugly, stupid, smart–all of it! If you can’t handle the dirt that gets put on your name here, then you can’t handle the dirt in the Big World when it gets on you.”

Lou leaned in close, eyes glowing. “The real world is a horrible place. Humans are horrible. Dangerous. And everything they make is just the same. Why do you think I exist?”

Nolan pursed his lips, face pinching in irritation and shaking his head as he looked to the side. “Just because your Creator made you for a purpose, doesn’t mean you have to see it through,” he looked back at Lou. “And for the record, I made that choice to toss you in the wash because it was the only thing I could think of that didn’t involve you getting killed.”

Lou blinked, taken aback by that last statement as the brunette turned and continued walking to the pile of steaming robots. He watched Nolan walk away for a moment before shaking his head and shooting a glare at the ground. He didn’t want to keep doing this. It felt the entire Institute was against him.

Except for these dolls. 

He sighed through his nose, looking back up to see Nolan struggling to drag another robot toward the cliffside. Lou’s expression softened a little as he looked at the others. Wage and Ox were dragging another robot. Babo and UglyDog were doing their best as well. Mandy, Moxy, and Luckybat were walking back to grab another robot. 

“A little help would be nice,” Nolan’s voice grabbed his attention again. The brunette had his hands on his knees, looking worn out, but his expression was as defiant as ever. Lou rolled his eyes and began walking again to help him.

[tertiusdecimusfilius]

Ships passing in the night usually didn't see one another.

Usually.

It took a mere twenty minutes from the destroyer-escorts of the Ultramarines and the Dawn Legion discovered each other until the time that the twin fleets were facing off side-by-side, rows of macrocannons staring down Lance batteries like fleets on ancient Terra with decks of cannon aimed and ready.

"Macragge's Honour," Celaya muttered, mild disbelief ringing through her tone. "The same markings, the same iconography, the same support fleet."

"Roboute never was particularly fond of changing what works," Tlatia replied.

Alarms blared throughout the ship as the Ultramarine fleet was brought to full combat readiness and the Dawn Legion did the same. Marines, both superhuman Astartes and mortal shipboard defense crews, rushed to their battle stations with weapons at the ready. Damage control teams went to standby alert. Weapons crews plotted firing solutions and prepared their guns, either charging them or loading them with colossal macrocannon shells.

The twin fleets sat there for five agonizing minutes, guns ready and drawn, shields high and humming. Five minutes of infinite chances for bloodshed ticked by before a message was sent.

"This is the Dawnbringer, hailing Macragge's Honour."

The other fleet hadn't made an attack yet which put him a little at ease. However, both fleets were ready for a battle, should it come down to it. Roboute stared at the ships opposite them, eyes wandering over the shape of the ships, the colors, the symbols.

They looked familiar. It wasn't something his mind could place right away. There was a nagging sense that he should know, that he knew, this other fleet. It wasn't the same feeling he'd gotten when he'd first met Aurelius and discovered the remnants of the second legion all those months ago. But this was certainly similar. The Primarch chewed his bottom lip. The name of the flagship escaped him.

His mouth opened to give the order to hail the other ship, but before he could, the voxmaster piped up. The other ship was hailing them.

"Open the frequency," Roboute ordered. The Dawnbringer? The name rung a bell, but-

There was the familiar spark of pain in his head. It only confirmed the feeling he had about this. It was likely that this was the other lost legion. Though it was strange. He couldn't remember much about them, probably from whatever power Malcador had used to erase the existence of the two legions. However it wasn't causing the same level of pain. Either the eleventh had been as thoroughly scrubbed from existence as the second, or having already remembered the second was making it easier to remember the eleventh.

"This is Macragge's Honour. What business do you have within this sector, Dawnbringer?" he asked.

[xartus]

Now that the frantic lust of adolescence is long past

I find myself more than ever missing what I once had. Or the possibility of such. Of being wanted be the same people whom I wanted

I'm quite positive that I would've had a date and some time of physical interaction by now, after the divorce, if I were still a woman. Yes, there were intimacy issues in the marriage but I don't blame neither she nor I

I was woefully unprepared for the realities of dating women not only as a man, but as a trans man. Its much easier to date women as another woman. I feel acutely the rejection by my ex and by society as a whole as a trans man

People talk about touch starvation and I've thought I felt it in the past but that wasn't this. I had close friendships in the past in addition to dates. Intimacy phyiscal and emotional, romantic and platonic galore. What I was feeling then was more akin to a type of lust, albeit a deep one. It doesn't even compare to the utter desolation, frustration, and crushing isolation that I feel now. What seemed barren before is a lush ecosystem full of life compared to this

I want to cry thinking about a girl kissing me, or embracing me. If that ever happens again I'd probably cry in relief from the human contact. I want to cry about how, holy fuck, I WAS wanted so much beforehand and I didn't even realize it. Compared to now, where its so painfully obvious that I'm not

Obviously I won't detransition as this is who I am and who I was meant to be. More indicators that this wasn't something I did for anyone except myself (get fucked, transphobes). I don't know what the solution is. I wish I had someone to be present with me, someone who I felt comfortable being so vulnerable in front of. And then someone to just fucking touch me with the reverence and care that I KNOW exists because I've felt it before. My person, my soul has only grown and gotten better; its the shell that's the issue

And that's the thing isn't it? The more authentic you are to yourself, the harder it becomes in a society not prepared for that. Like you the the spiritual- the more you know, the more you experience and grow; the less stable your foundation becomes, reality that you thought was solid becomes fluid and fleeting, and you ask yourself if ignorance really was bliss and if this madness is worth it. But you can't go back, and you don't want to, and you know you were you built for this gnosis because you sought it out

Circles in circles

[sullustangin]

Fluffy February Day 12: Shell

Fandom: SWTOR

Time: probably within the first three months since Eva was defrosted (3632/31 BBY -- 21 ATC)

Pairing: Theron Shan/Smuggler

Words: 1250

A/N:  Yes, I could not resist mentioning how Bioware has shamelessly recycled Koth’s face for Galactic Seasons...

~~

“You’ve got this,” Theron reassured her in a low voice as Eva took misstep – another misstep – in their waltz.  “Just follow my lead.”  One warm hand flexed against her cool, exposed upper back, while the other squeezed her right hand.

She felt the pressure, not the hand.

Silently, she shook her head.

She wasn’t ready yet. “I’m not  --”

He didn’t need to hear the rest: he could see it in her face. Theron pulled her in close to him and spun them out of the range of their mark. They’d practiced that throughout the evening, making sure they could extricate themselves as elegantly as they had entered the Zeltronian pleasure palace.  The night was still young, so they would have ample opportunity to complete the mission.

One way or another…

Theron’s hand was on her chin, demanding her attention even as their feet continued to move in time at the edge of the dance floor.  

Her right was still raised; she hadn’t noticed his hand’s departure.  She dropped it to his shoulder, immediately.

“Eva, look at me.” His olive-gold eyes burned into her. “You are the best person to pull this off.”

“Theron, I’m not –”

“You are.  You’ve got the fastest hands on Odessen, even if it’s only your left.  In all the sims, you consistently beat Koth by well over a second, even with Lana making a mind-trick distraction.  That second will make the difference -- ”  

“That, and Koth looks more the sort to rob a casino.”

“Thanks, Lana.”

The tension between Theron and Eva broke as they heard Lana and Koth bicker in the getaway speeder.

It was Eva’s first op since she’d been defrosted.  An opportunity had come up unexpectedly to “acquire” a particularly exquisite Corusca gem bracelet. It would be traded onward for credits as well as intel regarding Zakuulan supply depots.   The bracelet … just had to be acquired without anyone noticing.  Hot merchandise couldn’t be moved on the market; the current owner of the bracelet couldn’t notice it was missing.

Eva had pawed through old VATs with Risha and Akaavi, finding a solution.

Lana had mustered the very rational objection.

Theron had absorbed the data and input, then disappeared into Oggurobb’s lab to see what miracle the good doctor could manufacture.  

Now they were here, him in a classic, timeless suit, and Eva in some big-sleeved yet backless confection of the week.  

Theron leaned in closer to Eva, his breath ghosting over the shell of her ear.  “We’ve practiced for weeks.  You and me, waltzing past Koth and Lana.  We just need to execute.”

She just needed to execute, in truth.

Eva shook her head.  “You were right, I’m out in the field too soon –”

“We’re here now.  You’re right.  We’re ready.  It’s happening,” Theron cut her off, grasping her numb right hand.  His other palm now stroked her back, a sign of comfort between lovers.  

“You know, there is the other option,” Lana offered over their earpieces.

“And I’m sort of not excited about that option,” Theron muttered.

Koth’s pilot’s chair creaked.  “You need to have a little faith, before you send Theron off to stage a mugging gone fatally wrong-- ” and then the argument started again between Lana and Koth.

…it wasn’t Lana who had suggested that backup plan.  It was Eva. Old habits and criminal tendencies died hard.  Now she regretted it, even as she watched Theron roll his eyes at Lana defending the plan as a brutally efficient solution to their problem.  

Theron had already told her he didn’t want to live in the grey areas they had prior to the Eternal Fleet. That went for not just deciding what they were, but what he did in the name of a faction.  

Eva knew he’d do it for her. And the mission.  Maybe even mostly the mission.  But still, a little piece of him would do it for her…

And she didn’t want him to do that.  

Eva adjusted her left sleeve.

“Let’s get back to the main floor,” Eva said to Theron, loud enough for the people around them to hear, as well as Lana and Koth.

Theron drew so close that his lips did brush the shell of her ear this time.  “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

~~

A well-executed op was a beautiful thing.  

As they had practiced for weeks with Lana and Koth, in spare hours in the empty executive suite, Theron and Eva had waltzed in perfectly timed circles toward their mark: woman of indeterminate age, leisure class. She was consistent, doing the same things Theron had observed when watching her and her partner dance over the last few weeks.

She would slide her bracelet up her forearm to keep it off her wrist.  Her partner had the tendency to drop his right arm as he led a turn. Those had been the last pieces of intel they’d needed.

After revolving about them for ten minutes, like planets revolving about the sun, Eva signalled to Theron that this was it, three finger taps to the shoulder.

Theron spun them in a rather grand big top flourish, joining the rest of waltzing crowd in the finale of the dance.  The music swelled, and the people spun faster than a roulette wheel.

But Eva had been a quick draw champion, drawing, shooting, and hitting her target in less than a third of a second.  

Eva’s left arm reached out from its perch on Theron’s shoulder, and Eva’s modified hold-out knife shot out.  Rather than something in a weapons shop, the blade had been substituted for one of Dr. Oggurobb’s obsidian scalpels, modified to have more of a hook than a straight blade.  Effortlessly on the first turn, Eva rotated her wrist so that the scalpel cleanly sliced through the jewelry wire, then with a smooth pull back, its magnetic properties hooked the Corusca stones right into the compartment on Eva’s sleeve, right through the gap between the woman’s left arm and her partner’s lowered right arm.

Her hand was back on Theron’s shoulder in a split second.  The voluminous fabric hid the motions of her wrist.

On the synchronized counter turn, swinging back the other way, Eva let her hand slide down Theron’s arm just enough to get an angle, then activated the release on what once had been a zipline launcher. Instead of line spinning out, the replica bracelet leapt out toward its target.

A second launch command signaled the replica bracelet to activate its self-closing mechanism.

And then, to avoid the obvious landing of the jewelry on the former owner’s wrist, Dr. Oggurobb had installed single-use, biodegradeable micro-repulsor lifts to gradually lower the bracelet down to the skin. The Hutt had been excessively pleased with himself.  

And then Eva was spun away in a spin of lights reflected off of the glitz and glamor of the Zeltronian pleasure palace.  

Theron led them through two more shorter waltzes, Eva following his lead as he maneuvered them around the floor; he kept their mark in his line of sight all while gliding across the dance floor, making artificial small talk with Eva.  Talked about a pet dog that didn’t exist.  Mentioned a fantasy Huttball pool that he was not a part of.  Referred to a friend she didn’t have.  

After two dances, Theron seemed to be satisfied that the pair hadn’t noticed anything amiss.  “I heard there’s a pazaak tournament starting after the late seating for supper,” Theron said off-handedly, as if this wasn’t at all planned.

“You heard right.  I was thinking of entering.”

As they stepped off the dance floor, Theron pressed a kiss to the side of her head.  “Welcome back, EC.”

…that was a beautiful thing, too.

~~

@fluffyfebruary @ayresis @starlightcleric @ermingarden @bluephoenix1347 @sarpndo -- heist fic!

[zillyeh]

Turned Tides

Technically an immediate precursor to this drabble. only cws i can really give is talks of bombing towards the end, lmk if i need to add anything here<3 Synopsis: Around 150 sweeps ago, Heiress Halosa Delhon discuss what to do with the den of rebels in the north of Delhon city, with the added input of some unfortunate guests.

Your heavy footsteps echo across the marble castle floors. The mere sound of your approach had always been enough to quiet a room, but since the execution? A pin could drop upstairs and you could hear it. You almost miss her air headed giggling as she draped herself over the throne.However.

You admit that you prefer what it's done to Heiress Halosa.

She sits motionless on her throne. Hollow. She is a shell of the Delhon you knew. You'd behead Bridal again just to watch the light leave Halosa's eyes.  

The heiress did not wear her mourning whites for long. She was already back to her caped fleet uniform. The golden rank pauldrons sat spiky and and important on her shoulders. They glinted with the rest of the gold inlaid in her uniform in the jade and pink moonlight. Even this subtle combination of colors bouncing on her lap seemed to be grimming her already sour expression.

You greet her with a kneeling bow. 

"Your highness," you say. She hardly moves but to flick her wrist- an instruction to stand. 

"Steris," she says, the gravel of her voice deeper than you've ever heard it. "Approach. We don't have time for a round table. Visitors."

"Visitors?" you ask incredulously, climbing the short few steps to her side. "Now?" A quiet Delhon castle is a Delhon castle in shambles. To bring in others before you get a moment with her is… inconvenient. For you.

"They have a solution for me." Her voice is robotic. Halosa is running low on willpower. Anyone but you would think she’s just as hard as ever, but you can see her foundations beginning to crack. Mentioning Bridal in just the right way could break her, bend her to your whims, but you need her alone.

She hums, shifting in her seat. With an unenthusiastic flourish, she bangs her serpentine scepter on the ground. The ornate main doors of the throne room open, and the quartet of trolls that enter makes your thin lip curl.

They aren't clowns of yours, but they are clowns. Masked laughsassins with Enfaris' signature gaudy frills, all except for the tall elder in the front of them. He was certainly as Enfarian as the rest, but he had the decency to mute his colors and show his face. His paint was obnoxiously intricate- they have so much time for it don't they?- and did work to fill the deep lines of his face. His hair fell around his face in thin, tight braids, beaded in green and red at the ends.

"Your 'ighness," he greets. The phlegmy yet airy dust of his accent on those two words alone make your skin crawl. The beads in his hair clatter softly as he shifts. He bares his throat in place of bowing. Whatever ailment requires his cane seems to prevent his fellows from dropping to the floor as well. Disrespectful.

"Father Jortis, I take it?" Halosa asks, not looking for an answer. "I apologize for having no announcer to your entrance. It is no secret that my court is in unacceptable disarray. Please, speak."

"It is quite alright, Madame Delhon," Jortis says, gripping the cane in front of him. You do not hide your grimace when you realize it has a honking horn at the handle. 

"My church received most disturbing news from someone in zis province," he continues, "A rather eloquent plea for assistance. I 'ave an embarrassment of my own you see: in short a few, shall I say incorrectly zealous of our church stole some of our‐ qu'est que ce- 'idden members. I am to believe their fleeing brought zem 'ere, based on my informant's descriptions."

"This should be our priority why exactly?" You can't see his angle. You don't like that. "What do you mean by hidden-"

Halosa puts up a hand again. 

"You will be addressed when you are addressed, Steris." She can't make her voice sound as scary as it used to be. Regardless, you shut your mouth, narrowing your eyes at the clowns in front of you. 

"My advisor does make a fair point, Father. You bring this to me now for the reasons I hope you do, yes?"

Jortis nods once.

"Not zat I would be so brazen as to peek into your mind, but I believe so. My informant claims to 'ave been abducted by rebels and forced to labor for zem- ones zat match ze description of my missing flock."

"Fascinating," you say, having never shut up for long before this. "Is your little informant with us tonight, Enfarian?"

"'E should be," Jortis says easily, catching you off guard. His aloofness to your own disrespect annoys you. Enfarians are so difficult to rile. "If 'e manages to-"

The doors behind the troupe open again, spilling in the last person you'd ever thought you'd see in Delhon's throne room. The guards who escort him in look like they can't get their hands off him fast enough.

"Ninefingers?" You almost can't believe your eyes. He looks genuinely afraid in a way you've never seen the Exacerbator look. He wrings his lopsided hands, warily moving beside the quartet of clowns before dropping to a bow for the Heiress.

"Your highness," he says with a shake in his voice. Closer you can see barely healed scars on his arms, and a bruise under his eye. His first finger has been replaced with something made of… wood? How barbaric. His curly hair had been pulled back tight. He looks even smaller than he already is without his mane. Crushable underfoot or under ax.

Halosa signals for him to get up, casting a wary eye at you. You step forward. He winces.

"I should strangle whatever information you have out of you, Aarika." You crack your knuckles, but Jortis and Halosa both put their arms out to keep you two from each other.

"Vionyi, fucking behave or I will force you to leave."

"Yeah, okay."

Halosa stands. She strikes you across the mouth hard enough to reverberate through the high-ceilinged hall. You swallow the bit of blood in your mouth, clenching your fists. Oh how you hate fighting the urge to do something back. Tears sting at your eyes, but you are well practiced in biting back pain. Closing your clear false lids also helps.

"We can have this conversation over your corpse if need be," she says, some of the real danger in her voice back. You grit your teeth, the hand shaped print on your face stings. Hard. 

"I apologize for my insolence, your highness," you say through tight lips. "I shall not let my emotions get the better of me again."

For a split second, you think you catch a smug little smirk on Aarika's face.

"If I may-," Aarika speaks up with the well practice shake of a fearful child. Halosa seats herself again. "I apologize as well for my- everything. My unacceptable transgressions against the Empire, what I assume is a nasty scar on the back of your leg-" You want to kill him. Never in your life have you had to contain it quite this much. Cleaving him in two would only be the start. "-all of it is my fault. After those pirates took me from- kept me under the deck until I was so wound up and starved that I-" he interrupts himself with a sob. Jortis places a hand on his shoulder. Pathetic. This was what had become of Exacerbator Ninefingers? 

"I- sometimes I feel like I'm still not fully come to. I'm sorry. That's not what I'm here for. Please forgive me." He clears his throat, shaking as he finds his composure. "When they landed last they took me here. Taking to the rebel groups. The Underground practically found him- us first."

"The Underground?" Halosa seems interested. That was your pet project for sweeps. He's going to take this from you, right under your nose. Or lack thereof.

He nods. "There’s a church, on the north side of the city. They call it the-" he shudders, as if remembering something terrible, "-the church of the Reverent. That's what they call their leader. He and a handful of others are Enfarian. You can hear it- and I've overheard things-"

Jortis seems to think that Aarika's frantic ramblings are enough. 

"I would like your permission to retrieve ze 'eads of my missing flock, your 'ighness," he says, gesturing back to his laughsassins. Ah. That's what they were there for.

"Infiltration is incredibly difficult," Aarika interjects. "There are tunnels they will use to evacuate at even the slightest hint of smoke, the-"

"Old snake tunnels, I am familiar," Halosa says, more lively than you've seen her in weeks. Ugh. "Do you know them well enough to block them off?"

He hesitates, but nods.

"They could be… encouraged to certain routes."

Halosa turns her gaze to Jortis.

"How much time would it take you, Jortis?"

"Twenty minutes if we linger," he says. His little trio of freaks nod in unison. Aarika looks just as uncomfortable as you feel with them. The welts he came in with are slower to fade than you thought they'd be. Exacerbator Ninefingers had been rumored to heal as fast as you could cut him, but you suppose not all pirate tales are true.

You are very aware of the chunk he cut out of your thigh as you stare him down. He balks under your scrutiny, reluctantly leaning towards the subjugs. You want to find something, anything about him that you can use to get him dead. His crimes against the Empire are enough, but if he uses this leverage to beg for his life now? After giving up the location to the biggest thorn in Delhon’s side?

Halosa was far too weak not to let him have it.

"If you intend to do this, I would suggest you do it soon," he says, freaky teeth moving as he speaks. "They are intending to mobilize somewhere- I'm unsure where, I would assume further north to disperse into the woods, or south to integrate into the city."

"Two very different directions," Halosa hums.

“That is by design, your highness,” Aarika says with a solemn nod. “They listen to me about… tactics. They know who I was, not who I am. I will do anything in my limited power to make sure that the one who stole your m-”

He stopped himself with a hand over his mouth, looking like he fully expected Halosa to strike him down. You wish she would. She sits up straighter in her seat, the hardness of a several thousand year old war-ender back in her eyes. When she speaks again it is a demand.

“Who stole my...”

“The unspeakably blooded rebel who stole your beloved, your highness.” Aarika dropped to the floor again in another bow. He was really laying it on thick, though you must begrudgingly admire his commitment to keeping his neck and his head attached. “You must know she is one of the Enfarians in that church. It’s where-”

“Enough.” Now Halosa Delhon’s voice was a thundercrack, reverberating off the walls louder than when she’d slapped you. “Father, you can personally see to the unmerciful, gruesome end of your ex flock?” Jortis nodded. Aarika looked up, still frightened, but for a moment the mask slipped to unfettered glee. You would see his teeth pulled out of his face and reintroduced into his eyesockets if you could. 

“Unmercifully shall tack on an ‘andful’s worth of minutes, but it can be done, easily. One of our riders has a vested interest in seeing at least one of zem dead. If I understand correctly, it is the very same.” Riders. They would have taken one of their noodly, violent dragons here. Enfarians have them to spare for every law enforcer over there. You wonder which of his troupe it is. If they aren’t out tending to it.

The shadow of a smile finds itself creasing the severe lines around Halosa’s mouth. This is bad for you. If they can just kill their leaders and get the few spies stationed to get the more egregious mutants, your position as her tactician is practically-

“Steris,” she says, alive. You stiffen. “You had plans for the city north, did you not?”

Is she serious?

“Your highness?”

“To simply kill the perpetrators of so much strife against my city is not enough,” she says cooly, rehearsing words you’d spoken to her already almost verbatim. “The rats nest must be wiped out, lest more vermin crop up. Wouldn’t you agree?”  

Something in the way you shift almost makes Aarika snort. You feel almost lightheaded. Is this truly happening? This is one of the best nights of your life. Aarika and the foreign clowns at the edge of your vision be damned, she’s actually going to go through with it.

“Of course, your highness,” you say breathlessly, “An example should be made to the rest of the city- rest of the province that you-”

“Won’t stand for this behavior from our citizens,” she finishes for you. “Contact Felzee and the other two, tell them they’ll have thirty minutes. Anyone else you find terribly important as well. Everyone else figures it out when the drones come.”

You give her a short nod.

“Shall we be walling off the rest of the city then?” She nods in return. Her control over Delhon’s drones could rival even the Empress. Shielding off just the north side would be nothing.

“Get Ninefingers to mark a map for you and Jortis.” You grimace, and he winces at being mentioned by name. “I will offer you one singular favor, Amillo Aarika, aside from sparing your life.” 

Of course she would.

Fucking of course she would.

That won’t sour your mood. Aarika could ask for a room in the castle and you’d still be over the moons. This is your idea, she’s listened to you, you are getting everything you wanted to do to that hole and more.

“A floor of the greenhouse tower in the center city,” Aarika says as if he’d been expecting this. “If you would be so generous. I- I want my life to be simple, all I’ve ever really wanted is to make-”

“I don’t care. It will be done. All of you come with me. This must be done now.”

When she stands, turning her back to your company, something in Aarika changes, shifts ever so slightly that you barely catch it. His shake stops. He seems more relaxed. He catches your eye and flashes you a smile, which you meet with a sneer. You know then that he’s also just gotten exactly what he wanted. Even if it doesn’t seem like much, you and he are united in this one desire- to see north Delhon torched.

That doesn’t sit well with you, but you have to ignore it. Right now you have a city to raze.

[transportemx]

La telemetría ayuda al control de flotas…y también a la electromovilidad: Shell Fleet Solutions

Hugo Aguilar, director de Shell Fleet Solutions en México comparte las tendencias del uso de combustibles y telemetría en el control de flotas de transporte de carga y pasajeros. Tarde o temprano, los combustibles fósiles irán desapareciendo en beneficio de otras alternativas menos contaminantes. En ese sentido, los proveedores del autotransporte evolucionarán en su modelo de negocio para…

[yellowfingcr]

write down three qualities that your muse DOESN'T have!

// why, anything for you!

1- good natured, genuine honesty

this one needs a small preface- to heysel the quality of honesty can only be called such when it puts you at risk of hurt. you must be a honest character, in the entirety, always. it needs to be that important. it's not just sharing something true but being so convinced in the correctness of it above all and so brave that even if this utter transparency can result in cleanly displaying where it could be easiest to hurt you most you still offer it because you believe it is the correct thing to do, and especially you offer it freely. done like this honesty is beautiful to her because it is a fearless act. heysel truly, deeply respects anyone capable of that sort of honesty; and, of course, professional awful thing that she is, she absolutely doesn't possess this sort of trait. lying is kind of her favourite hobby. she's done anything she could to make herself as opaque as possible. she is genuine, but she isn't honest.

2- an actual ability to compromise

this one is funny because the thing with heysel is that, broadly speaking, you have to put up a compelling argument for her not beating you to death instead of compromising with you. she can be patient; she will listen to what you propose. but whenever faced with the possibilities of either trying to come to a verbal, nonviolent solution that sort of pleases both or the extremely violent solution that pleases her, and how wonderful it is that violence is a fast solution to a plethora of issues, know that the timer is ticking.

3- an actual interest in self-preservation

it doesn't even matter if she can come back from death or not; heysel cheerfully refuses the notion that she is much like you a being of this earth, and she can place effort into prolonging her stay into her mortal shell. there's a reason behind this, and in part- like most things-it ties to her philosophy of violence, which is in turn a philosophy of existence; and in part it's just that she sees life as beautifully fleeting; and there are other reasons and other reasons. but ultimately you are before a woman who not only really doesn't care if she gets hurt, she willingly puts herself in situations in which getting hurt is guaranteed.

[simulamortem]

EGO RETENTION RELAPSES

in this house we love a messy bitch, and as it happens, Revenant's breaking his programming made him very messy.

Ego Retention can't pull him under again, but it TRIES sometimes. I call these incidents ego relapses, in which Revenant's perception gets stuck in its former state where he sees himself as human again. he KNOWS BETTER now, but that doesn't change his experiencing his human body instead of the mechanical shell - and he hates it.

after all this time acclimating to his machine body, getting stuck in his human body again feels extremely jarring. sensation is much more vivid for him in an ego relapse, especially pain. Revenant's been a bit spoiled as a simulacrum by learning that much of his chassis doesn't have much haptic to it, and he can basically switch off his perception of pain in some cases. but in an ego relapse he can't help how much things HURT, even knowing it's just in his head.

more than that, experiencing his human body again reminds him not only of the man he used to be - who he hates so much for having gotten him where he is - but also of all the violent deaths he went through under Ego Retention.

this excerpt from one of my threads puts it best I think:

"Besides the air in and out of his lungs, he could feel his damn ribs moving with each breath, and all it reminded him of was all the times he struggled for air, died a suffocating death or felt the burn of a bullet in his gut or choked on hot blood thick in his throat. The illusion of his human body may as well have been one big open wound for how many times he had SUFFERED its death."

while these relapses aren't common for him, they do have a variety of possible TRIGGERS:

EMPs or anything electrical risks damaging his neural processor in juuust the right way to kick a bit of Ego Retention back into gear

similarly, any direct physical damage to his neural processor risks a relapse

to a much lesser extent, technically any physical damage at all can risk a relapse, if his neural processor just ✨ decides to be a little bitch at that moment ✨

Revenant has made a habit of avoiding his reflection because there's always a chance he'll see his old self instead of the murderbot

though only likely to happen in the circumstances of a ship, if he's feeling relaxed enough, someone touching him very gently can sometimes trick his perception into thinking they're touching the human body instead of the machine body

when he first wakes up from sleep, especially if he wakes up in a bed, he'll sometimes go about his morning routine from when he was human until he catches himself

FIXES:

ego relapses can happen in just fleeting moments which Revenant is able to brush off - but they can also stick, in which case he usually wants to DIE as quickly as possible, as being stuck in a relapse makes him miserable and moving into a new shell is his quickest guarantee to getting back to normal.

however, he can also acclimate to some extent if getting killed isn't an immediately available solution. he just won't be happy about it, and it'll be very difficult for him to relax or feel comfortable.

there may be other ways to "fix" a relapse, but not without help; somebody Revenant trusts who could guide & ground him back to his mechanical body. the same techniques that work for helping panic attacks & dissociative episodes also have the potential to help him out of an ego relapse.

[aronarchy]

[image IDs:

bp @/bp_plc tweets,

The first step to reducing your emissions is to know where you stand. Find our your #carbonfootprint with our new calculator & share your pledge today!

Mary Annaïse Heglar @/MaryHeglar replies,

Bitch what’s yours?

.

Shell @/Shell tweets,

What are you willing to change to help reduce emissions? #EnergyDebate

Greta Thunberg @/GretaThunberg quote-tweets Shell, saying,

I don’t know about you, but I sure am willing to call-out-the-fossil-fuel-companies-for-knowingly-destroying-future-living-conditions -for-countless-generations-for profit-and-then-trying-to-distract-people-and-prevent-real-systemic-change-through-endless greenwash-campaigns.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez @/AOC quote-tweets Shell, saying,

I’m willing to hold you accountable for lying about climate change for 30 years when you secretly knew the entire time that fossil fuels emissions would destroy our planet 😇

Jamie Margolin @/Jamie_Margolin quote-tweets Shell, saying, “This you?” with a Greenpeace photograph by Denck Hingle which shows a tiny Shell skimmer trying to clean up tens of thousands of tons of oil in the ocean, visible as giant patchy red stains.

Sunrise Movement @/sunrisemvmt quote-tweets Shell, saying, “we’re gonna dismantle your company babe” along with a reaction video of a laughing woman with acrylic nails.

.

Chevron @/Chevron tweets,

Lots of talks about Fleets today, so we thought we’d introduce you to one of the biggest ones out there chevron.co/fleets

Brian Kahn @/blkahn quote-tweets Chevron, saying,

I loved learning one of your ships can transport enough oil to emit ~820,000 tons of carbon pollution. This is extremely relatable! Keep it up!!!

.

ExxonMobil @/exxonmobil tweets,

We’re all in this together! Glad to be a part of the Oil and Gas Climate Initiative – working collaboratively toward solutions to mitigate the risks of climate change. @/OGCInews

Ilhan Omar @/IlhanMN quote-tweets ExxonMobil with the “We’re all trying to find the guy who did this” meme, showing an image of a man in a hot dog costume trying to pretend he didn’t do something while a room of people behind him look on unimpressed, from I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson.

Terry Metter @/TerryMetterJr replies to @/IlhanMN, saying, “The Exxon PR people looking at the metrics RN” with two stills from the same aforementioned show showing the actor Tim Robinson saying,

I thought it was gonna be a hit!

It turns out it fucking sucks!

/end image IDs]

Good morning to everyone who is going to troll an oil company today 😇

[gunningcranes]

Revolutionizing Pool Installation in Lake Macquarie and Construction in Newcastle

When it comes to heavy lifting, precision, and efficiency, few companies match the expertise and professionalism of Gunning Cranes. For years, Gunning Cranes has been a trusted partner in industries ranging from pool installation to large-scale construction projects. With a reputation built on reliability, cutting-edge equipment, and skilled operators, the company has become synonymous with excellence in Pool Installation Lake Macquarie and crane hire for construction in Newcastle.

The Role of Cranes in Modern Construction

Cranes are indispensable in today’s construction and installation projects. Whether lifting materials to great heights or assisting with the placement of heavy equipment, cranes streamline processes that would otherwise be labor-intensive and time-consuming. For tasks like Pool Installation in Lake Macquarie, cranes play a pivotal role in ensuring precision placement, reducing risks, and maintaining project timelines. Similarly, in Newcastle, construction projects demand the flexibility and power of advanced cranes to meet the high standards of modern architecture and engineering.

Why Choose Gunning Cranes?

Expertise in Diverse Projects

Gunning Cranes has extensive experience in managing a variety of projects, from residential pool installations to large-scale commercial construction. Their team of skilled operators and technicians ensures that every lift is executed safely and efficiently.

State-of-the-Art Equipment

The company’s fleet includes a range of cranes designed to handle diverse requirements. Whether you’re looking to Hire Crane for Construction Newcastle or need assistance with a unique installation in Lake Macquarie, Gunning Cranes has the right equipment to meet your needs.

Commitment to Safety

Safety is paramount at Gunning Cranes. The company adheres to stringent safety protocols and conducts regular equipment inspections to ensure that every operation runs smoothly without compromising the well-being of its workers or clients.

Pool Installation in Lake Macquarie: A Case Study

Lake Macquarie, known for its scenic beauty and vibrant community, has seen a surge in residential and commercial development. Many homeowners in the region are opting for pools as a way to enhance their properties and enjoy the region’s sunny climate.

However, pool installation isn’t as simple as digging a hole and filling it with water. The process involves precise excavation, the delivery and placement of pre-fabricated pool shells, and the careful alignment of various components. This is where Gunning Cranes excels. By using advanced lifting equipment, the company ensures that pool shells are placed seamlessly, even in challenging or restricted spaces.

Benefits of Using Gunning Cranes for Pool Installation

Precision Placement: The company’s cranes enable accurate placement of pool components, minimizing errors and ensuring structural integrity.

Reduced Installation Time: By leveraging high-capacity cranes, Gunning Cranes speeds up the installation process, saving homeowners time and money.

Customized Solutions: Gunning Cranes adapts to the unique needs of each project, offering tailored solutions for properties with limited access or uneven terrain.

Crane Hire for Construction in Newcastle

Newcastle, a bustling hub of industry and development, is home to numerous construction projects ranging from residential complexes to commercial skyscrapers. These projects demand efficiency, reliability, and innovation—qualities that Gunning Cranes consistently delivers.

Advantages of Hiring a Crane for Construction in Newcastle

Versatility: Gunning Cranes offers a variety of cranes, including mobile cranes, tower cranes, and all-terrain cranes, to cater to diverse project needs.

Cost-Effectiveness: Renting a crane from Gunning Cranes eliminates the need for long-term investments in equipment, making it a budget-friendly option for contractors.

Expert Operators: Along with state-of-the-art equipment, the company provides skilled operators who bring a wealth of experience to every project.

Key Projects in Newcastle

Gunning Cranes has been instrumental in several landmark projects in Newcastle. From assisting in the construction of modern residential complexes to handling delicate restoration work on historical buildings, the company’s contribution has been invaluable. Their ability to adapt to the unique challenges of each project has cemented their reputation as a go-to crane hire provider in the region.

How Gunning Cranes Stands Out

Customer-Centric Approach

Gunning Cranes takes pride in its customer-first philosophy. Every project begins with a detailed consultation to understand the client’s specific requirements. This ensures that the right crane and strategy are selected for the task at hand.

Advanced Technology

The company invests heavily in technology to enhance its services. From GPS-enabled fleet tracking to advanced lifting systems, Gunning Cranes stays ahead of the curve by embracing innovation.

Community Engagement

As a locally owned and operated business, Gunning Cranes is deeply committed to supporting the communities in which it operates. The company actively participates in local events, provides employment opportunities, and supports sustainable practices to minimize its environmental footprint.

Tips for Choosing the Right Crane Hire Service

If you’re planning a project in Lake Macquarie or Newcastle, selecting the right crane hire service is crucial. Here are some tips to help you make an informed decision:

Assess Your Needs: Determine the type and scale of your project to identify the equipment required.

Check Credentials: Ensure that the crane hire company has the necessary licenses, certifications, and insurance.

Evaluate Equipment: Inspect the company’s fleet to ensure it includes modern, well-maintained cranes.

Prioritize Safety: Choose a provider with a strong safety record and comprehensive safety protocols.

Read Reviews: Look for testimonials and case studies to gauge the company’s reputation and reliability.

Conclusion

From transforming backyards with stunning pools in Lake Macquarie to driving large-scale construction projects in Newcastle, Gunning Cranes has established itself as a leader in the industry. Their unwavering commitment to safety, innovation, and customer satisfaction sets them apart, making them the preferred choice for projects big and small.

Whether you’re looking to Hire Crane for Construction Newcastle or need expert assistance with Pool Installation Lake Macquarie, Gunning Cranes is ready to exceed your expectations. Reach out to them today to discuss your project requirements and experience the difference that comes with working with industry experts.

[business-gas-card]

Business Gas Cards: Optimize Your Business with Fuel Cards and Gas Cards

Optimize Your Business with Fuel Cards and Gas Cards

In today's competitive business environment, optimizing operations through strategic financial management has become essential. Utilizing a business fuel card and gas cards presents significant advantages for businesses. Implementing a gas card program allows a company to streamline expenses associated with fleet operations. Fuel cards are powerful tools for businesses seeking to optimize costs and manage expenditures effectively. They offer businesses enhanced control and transparency over fuel-related expenses, which is crucial for optimizing a company's overall financial strategy. Businesses can benefit from using gas cards by ensuring efficient allocation of resources, leading to more effective fleet management. Moreover, utilizing business fuel cards helps companies track and manage fuel expenses, reducing the possibility of unauthorized expenditures. By integrating fuel cards into your company's operations, you enable your firm to achieve financial optimization while enhancing the efficiency of fleet management.

Earn Rebates and Choose the Best Fuel Cards

When it comes to optimizing your business operations, it's essential to earn rebates while you fuel your fleet. By carefully choosing the best fuel cards, you not only manage your expenses efficiently but also gain additional benefits. Fuel cards enable businesses to save money per gallon, making each fill-up more cost-effective. They offer flexible payment options that can align with your business needs, providing you the freedom to choose the card that aligns with your goals. From providing fleet reporting to enhanced controls, these cards are designed to serve all types of businesses. Therefore, when selecting a fuel card or gas card, it's vital to assess the benefits offered and ensure they align with your business objectives.

Shell Fleet Card Options for Business

The Shell Fleet Card offers an array of options tailored for businesses looking to optimize their fuel and gas expenses. Companies can benefit significantly from the flexibility provided by Shell's comprehensive fleet card solutions. Whether you're a small business or a large corporation, Shell provides card options that help manage fuel purchases, simplifying the process and offering ways to control budgets effectively. These options not only streamline fuel purchases but also enable businesses to track expenses meticulously. By using Shell's fleet card options, companies can reduce administrative burdens and improve financial oversight. The Shell Fleet Card offers incentives that ensure the best value for each fuel dollar spent, empowering businesses to make informed choices. Opting for Shell fleet card options positions your business strategically in managing company fuel and gas needs efficiently.

Enhance Your Business Payments with Fleet Cards

In today's competitive business landscape, managing payments efficiently is crucial for operational success. By leveraging fleet cards, businesses can significantly enhance their payment solutions, tailored specifically for fleet management needs. Fleet cards provide a streamlined method to handle business-related fuel expenses, offering comprehensive credit options that ensure organizations can maintain seamless operations without financial interruptions. These cards are designed to enhance control over fuel expenditures and optimize the use of your company's payment processes. Fleet card solutions are not just about improving payment strategies; they also offer robust credit benefits, allowing businesses to better manage and track their financial outlay. By opting for a fleet card, companies can ensure improved payment efficiency, ultimately enhancing their overall business operations. As businesses evolve, the importance of integrating modern payment solutions becomes increasingly apparent, making fleet cards a valuable asset.

Sheetz Business Edge Fuel Cards

The Sheetz Business Edge Fuel Cards offer a comprehensive solution for companies looking to optimize their fuel expenses. Designed specifically for businesses managing a fleet, these cards provide an edge by allowing easy tracking and control over fuel purchases. By using a Sheetz Business Edge Fuel Card, a company can consolidate all gas and fuel expenses into one streamlined account, enhancing financial oversight and budgeting efficiency. With various incentives and rebates, these fuel cards present a cost-effective option for any business aiming to reduce operational costs. Furthermore, Sheetz's extensive network allows fleet managers to ensure that their drivers have access to fuel across multiple locations without inconvenience. Companies utilizing these edge fuel cards enjoy seamless transactions, ultimately enhancing their business's operational efficiency and effectiveness.

Save More with Business Fuel Options

In today's competitive market, every business aims to save more and maximize efficiency, and employing the right fuel card solutions can provide a significant advantage. Business fuel options have evolved far beyond traditional means, offering tailored solutions that address diverse operational needs. By utilizing specialized gas cards, companies can streamline expenses, track fuel consumption accurately, and enhance overall productivity. These cards not only aid in financial management but also offer strategic benefits such as rebates and discounts, enabling businesses to optimize their fuel budgets effectively. Leveraging gas cards and advanced fuel options, organizations can ensure seamless management of their fleet operations. Businesses seeking cost-effective solutions will find these fuel options indispensable in today's fast-paced environment, ultimately allowing them to concentrate on growth and profitability. Discover how to save more with these innovative business fuel options.

Manage Your Fleet with Advanced Technology

Managing your fleet with advanced technology is crucial for business success in today's digital age. Business gas cards offer cutting-edge solutions to streamline your operations, ensuring you're able to manage your fleet efficiently across various locations. Advanced card technology allows for real-time monitoring and data-driven insights, enabling you to make informed decisions that enhance your business operations. With these tools, you can optimize routes, reduce fuel consumption, and ultimately cut costs. The integration of advanced technology in managing your fleet not only optimizes performance but also provides comprehensive security features, safeguarding your assets against fraud. By leveraging these technology-driven solutions, businesses are equipped to stay competitive and responsive. Embracing these advancements enables seamless management of fleets and ensures your business is always on the path to success.

Simple Mobile Management for Business Cards

Simple mobile management is a cornerstone for effective business operations, especially when it comes to handling business cards for fuel and transport purposes. With easy mobile access to your business card accounts, you streamline the charging process and enhance management efficiency. Managers can rapidly access transaction histories and manage card limits, ensuring every card in the business repertoire is optimized for performance. This mobile system simplifies the oversight of numerous cards, providing businesses with a tool that adapts to their agile requirements. By focusing on simple and intuitive mobile management, businesses can ensure prompt responses to operational needs. The business's fuel and transport sectors feel the benefits firsthand, with access to real-time data and seamless integration into existing workflows, making complex card management a straightforward task.

Get More from Your Company Fuel Budget

Maximizing your company fuel budget is essential for optimizing overall business efficiency. By integrating effective fuel solutions like business gas cards, companies can streamline their fuel expenditure, ensuring that every dollar is spent wisely. Business gas cards offer a range of benefits, from competitive rebates to detailed expense tracking, allowing businesses to harness their fuel budgets more efficiently. Fleet managers will find that managing fuel expenses becomes less cumbersome when utilizing these cards, as they provide a straightforward method for monitoring spending and identifying potential savings. Companies can choose customized gas solutions that align perfectly with their fleet's needs, offering convenience and control over fuel expenditures. By smartly utilizing a business gas card, companies can ensure they’re getting more value from their fuel investments, thus optimizing their overall business operations.

Is Chevron and Texaco Right for You?

When determining if Chevron and Texaco are right for your business, several factors warrant consideration. Chevron and Texaco's expansive network of fuel locations provides unparalleled convenience for business gas needs, ensuring that your fleet never encounters a shortage of fueling options. For businesses that require reliable gas suppliers, Chevron and Texaco fuel cards offer solutions tailored to optimize your business operations. Additionally, these cards provide significant control over your fuel expenses, allowing you to better manage your business's gas consumption. With Chevron and Texaco, businesses can take advantage of strategic fuel options that support efficient travel routes. Whether you're a small enterprise or a large corporation, implementing Chevron and Texaco fuel cards could be the right choice for enhancing the productivity of your business while maximizing fuel efficiency across all locations.