I Do Have One, If You’d Like. I’m A Little Shy, But His Name Is Bulletguard. And He Is A Former Wreaker

Well, Star thought, well, I have two options. Option one, wait it out. Sounded simplistic and stupid, and also problematic. He had no idea where he was, or what lead him here. So part of option two, try to remember and make some sort of semblance of a plan despite his ignorance, was partly in motion. Star remembered a deep navy hijab with golden accents, Kimia. Which meant nothing, he worked with her on a daily basis, her two little shits provoked him almost daily, today…the day he remembered…was no different. He gave up trying to break through her solemn professional exterior, and had followed her towards one of the many briefing rooms in the massive warship. And he saw… he saw… Star clutched his head with his abominable soft hands as a headache burned through his now human skull. He was used to headaches, but this one was definitely different, like a metal headache, just, less crippling. It however didn’t erase the face that both his supervisor, Mr Morgenstern and Prime Minister Veracity Cotte siting, sitting!! In the same room together!! And nobody was dead, or dying, or even remotely injured?!

“Knock knock” His spiraling was taken away by an interpreter, some fuckboy clearly up is own ass with the power given to him by whatever authority had taken him. Most likely the Prime Minister. “What?!” He snapped, headache still lingering, he was never in the mood to socialize, let alone in this situation.

Star woke up warm. Which was odd, he never was warm, usually whatever blankets he was using either got stolen or misplaced, then only warmth usually came From his comrades who he was sleeping with. Scrunched up like sardines just waiting for someone to pick them up one by one and eat them. But not today, or morning he thought, today was warm, maybe even hot.

And it didn’t smell like fresh cement, it smelled like drywall. Another odd thing. And the blankets around him were not scratchy or itchy or small, in fact they not only covered him completely(minus his head), they also seemed to be furry. He slowly creaking open his eyes, just for a minute, in case he broke whatever dream or spell he was under.

He was in an aggressively orange room, even the door was painted a sharp clementine. Despite his original opinion, he hated this, and his blankets, shades of yellow that could rival the sun burned his eyes. His eyes! Star almost missed how odd everything looked, not only were the colors more vibrant, everything gave a new form of texture. He would say they felt the same, but he had never felt such things before. Honestly, he… his hands, they were also changed. He looked at them, soft squishy things with something hard at its core. Pick able, more flexible the his old ones, gouging as to chipping. Freaky, he froze, touching his face and his neck, and looking at his feet. He was a lumpy blobby flesh thing, all the way through, he was fully human now. He screamed,covered his head under the covers, and then cried.

Hang on, what if the ramped christianization of everything actually had the effect of giving demons an immunity do to constant contact

5 posts!

Such a sophisticated doggie

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

Probably bad poem about my own fears of flesh

My own flesh is not my own. I am afraid that one day, in extreme pain, my body will unravel, leaving me with nothing. I am afraid that one day a doctor or dentist will fuck up, and my mouth or limbs will no longer be my own.

 I am afraid of losing bodily autonomy. I am afraid, sometimes, of the courtroom, contruing the way and how I use it. Sometimes, I am afraid of gaining pregnacy weight, and not losing it. How it will sag and slow me down, with nothing to hold it up. Then everyone will call me fat, and people will pressure me to exercise more. But I am not afraid of pregnancy, it is the birth I am more afraid of.  Which is worse, injections or pain for hours on end? 

My body and my brain are the only things of me and to me, and that I completely one hundred percent have. It is only natural that I worry. 

We have always existed, and we always will.

Dear god!

Yes

before 2024 is over does anyone want to admit they're lying to themselves

"Good morning!" The soldier said, he looked around the body Star seemed to be stuck inside’s age, only with brighter clothing and a face mask. He held himself in a cheery position, even closing the gap between them quicker than Star had anticipated.

"Hi...

He responded awkwardly, head still raging,

"Are you, what are you doing here? What am I doing here?"

"I mean, you are Steven Morgenstern right?” The boy asked, using a name Star had never heard of as a matter of fact.

“No? I’m aerial combat unit 274.2, but… just all me Two” Star almost said his preferred name out loud, in front of a human no less. Probably not a human leader, but a human. Given the boys look, he guessed he had given the wrong answer, even though this was always the right answer! Because apparently they had…Then he remembered he was a human. And this whole number business seemed insensitive at worst, no, insane at worst, and a memory loss effect at best.

“I’m sorry, I meant, yes, my name is Steven Morningstar.”

“You mean morgenstern right?”

“Yes, yes that”

“Ok…” the boy said, giving him another look, this one of confusion. “Well, I’m here to make sure you reach morning briefing, and to tell you about it”

“Yes, thank you, I’ll be there”

“I will be waiting outside to guide you, if you want?”

“Yes, sure whatever!” Star snapped, pushing the boy out, mind already whirling and whispering with all the sudden new information he had now, and all the new potential just standing outside. He got out of bed, and was surprised to see a wardrobe with pale outfits roughly his size. Rushing to get some on, he multitasked by trying again to remember how he got here in the first place. He definitely remembered going to a meeting, not a briefing before fainting… fainting? That’s it! Star remembered being summoned by Kimia for a meeting with the head(s). He remembered chasing after her two little shits, but stopped when he saw her. Now the meeting, most likely where he fainted, or lost memory, whatever, it was the hardest to pick apart. He had walked in, he had walked in and saw? Saw the prime minister, right next to his boss. Which was impossible, unless he was dead. He briefly remembered paring himself down, and the two being cagey. The prime minister saying something about his appearance, scolding his boss, his boss taking it!? Then, nothing, a blur of a word from the Prime Minister, so blurry he couldn’t remember what she had said. Now that he had pinpointed the spot where he had fainted, now he just needed to try and remember what she had said.

Try as he might(and he did try), Star could not remember what she had said, it just escaped him. Even on the way to the briefing, he could not remember. He only hoped that the briefing had SOME, even mild hints to answers. It was killing him, the unknown.