#it's ok!!

[mercenarysexuality]

ok well. I got nothing real accomplished today but. I have two more days off. There's time.

[nightfox67]

HIHIHIHI OKAY

SO IM SORRY FOR LEAVING I HAD TO LEAVE DUE TO NOT WANTINGT MY FAMILY TO FIND MY ACCOUNT- HOW HAVE YOU BEEN? ARE YOU OKAY? 😭😭😭😭i missed you so much nand im sorry for leaving

It's ok!!/gen. I'm doing alright! I'm a small streamer now :D! And I'm part of a lore server with a friend that's like a revamp of the dsmp but without the toxic people! If you want you can DM me for my username so you can follow. I just did a 2hr stream today with a new horror add on.

[heavensickness]

Nobody gives a shit about me and life goes on. Nobody gives a shit about me and life goes on. Nobody gives a shit about me and life goes on. Nobody gives a shit about me and life goes on. Nobody gives a shit about me and life goes on. Nobody gives a shit about me and life goes on. Nobody gives a shit about me and life goes on. Nobody gives a shit about me and life goes on.

[gluffering]

how's it like being gay for ky kiske (and nega i haven't forgotten the promise i made)

Awful, thanks for asking.

[toracius]

(HELP I SAW UR ANSWER SO LATE I'M SORRY)

No work ever compares to you my love. Plus i heard you calling my name so i had to check why, no?

diluc anon

Awww, Luc, you're too sweet, but you didn't ditch anything important did you? I only called because I miss you and am in need of cuddles

[ultraviolext]

@savaged-flesh ( continue )

“Hm.” Shi circles the art installation with the eye of a pretending savant, as if evaluating a work in a museum. Not that she was really all that artsy to begin with. “Who is the message for, exactly?”

Then the revenant looks to the Spy with a pout.

“And how come you never string me up like that?”

[vaniccio]

sea’s wol challenge — xviii. blessing

“Do you think the Echo is a blessing or a curse?” she asks one morning as she tightens the fastenings on his armor, fingertips gliding over the rough material in a well-rehearsed manner.  

He yawns and lifts an arm when she prods at his side. “Don’t know. It depends on the day. And on who you ask.”

“Well, how do you feel about it today?” 

“You’re rather awake this morning," he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. "What brought this on?”

“Just curious. And I like to hear your thoughts on things.”

“Despite not listening half the time?”

“Hey.” She firmly tugs on a clasp by his ribs, cinching the material and making him grunt. “I do listen. I just do things my own way every now and then.”

More like always, he thinks dryly and turns when she nudges at him again. “I’d say it’s a blessing then, considering the plan for today.” 

“Are you expecting trouble?”

“Shouldn’t I be?” 

“Hopefully, no. But also I try not to expect the worst,” she says with a slight frown, finishing up and resting both hands on his shoulders. “I almost forgot how you look in this. It’s much bulkier than Tataru’s set. Does it still sit alright?”

He gives an experimental roll of his shoulders. Twists his torso a few times. She takes a step back and watches with a critical eye as he tests his range of movement. 

“Feels fine to me,” he finally declares, straightening out with one last stretch. Tataru’s gear is finely made and he’s since gotten used to it, but putting on his old gear felt like slipping into a second skin. It’s comfortable, familiar, and well-worn—he’s long lost count of how many battles it has seen him through. 

“Glad to hear it.” She gives a satisfied nod, then crosses the room to rummage in her closet. “I should be able to join you mid-way through the patrol. Lyse mentioned there’s been some unexpected developments, though, so I’m to see her first.” Her voice goes muffled as she steps further into the closet. He hears the sound of hangers clacking together. “Do you remember what I told you about the empire’s weaponry? What models to expect, if any show?” 

“Aye. And I remember enough of them from Bozja.” 

The brief stretch of silence lets him know she caught the sour note in his voice. 

“It won’t be like that,” she tells him, peeking out from the closet. “Truly, it should be a quiet patrol. And that’s not just me being naively optimistic. Alphinaud has since been keeping up with the missives from Raubahn—you can ask him yourself, if you’re worried.”

“No need,” he mutters and busies himself with his gauntlets, flexing his fingers. “I believe you.” 

But sometimes he wonders just how she’s made it this far with that sort of mindset. Granted he’s also in the habit of expecting the best in people and things, and giving second and third and even fourth chances—but that practice has since been tempered. 

“Okay,” she says, eyeing him for a moment longer before ducking back into the closet. "Thank you. Feel free to use the linkshell should anything happen. Not that you need telling, but be careful regardless."

"Duly noted." And with one last glance over in the mirror, he heads for the door. But he doesn’t get far, stopping at the sound of her grumbling under her breath.  

His gaze slides back to the room. She’s taken up the same spot in front of the mirror as he had seconds ago, though this time fumbling with the armor she’d had made nearly a moon ago. The sight of her twisting and trying to tie together two incorrect pieces would be comical if it wasn't as worrying in equal measure.

She jolts when he enters the frame behind her. "Oh. You're still here." 

"Turn around," he says, gesturing with his finger. "I'll help."

"It's alright. You'll be late if—”

"They can wait. Turn around." 

Her mouth snaps shut. She holds his gaze in the mirror, eyes bright and curious, then slowly turns to face him.

His practiced fingers fly over the various clasps and fastenings with ease, figuring out the set within moments. 

"Huh. You’re good at this.”

He grabs her hips and turns her, then gets to work again. "Armor is armor. There are only so many ways it can be worn."

"It's too heavy," she mumbles. "And clunky. I feel like a turtle."

"You grow used to it." Then he pauses, hands hovering over the belt at her waist. "Though if it's that much of a hindrance…"

"No. I promised you that I'd wear it."

He frowns at the stubborn look on her face. "And while I appreciate your word, I'd be far more reassured with you being able to move freely. If—"

"Ardbert." She rests a hand over his. "I said I promised you. It's different from what I'm used to, yes, but it's hardly something to hold me back. I'm just complaining."

Still, he hesitates. “If you’re certain…” 

“I am,” she says with a small smile, and his gaze softens at the sight. “Promise. Now come on, or we really will be late.”