DJ GrilledCheezy's Inner Mental Workings

Porter never even considered it a possibility.

He’d be there to protect them. Of course he would be. Porter was strong. He was the blade to a powerful centuries old king. That was more than enough to protect the one he loved.

But his real enemy was time.

And it felt like he could never have enough of it.

Porter finally felt alive - he found someone that understood him, believed in him, loved him for who he was, not what he could provide. They loved him through all his shortcomings, and held him in their arms as they mended cracks and soothed the edges of their relationship.

He forgot what it felt like to truly smile until they came along. And now it feels like he can’t stop smiling when they’re around.

At first it was foreign. But then it became everything he ever knew.

Their warmth in his arms. Their smile being the first thing he saw as he woke up. The sound of their footsteps as they run and greet him at the door.

It was their everyday routine.

Until it wasn’t.

He had spent so long as a vampire that he forgot how fragile humans were. How short their lifespan is. It felt like he blinked and they were slipping away.

He held them in his arms each night, yet they were slipping away.

Their beautiful face was decorated with smile lines, and their movements were getting slow.

No matter how their appearance changed, they were still his Treasure.

And as one does, he did everything he could to protect them.

But time is the only thing you can’t protect anyone from.

“When I’m dead and buried and the bugs eat away at my heart,

All they’ll taste is you.”

They smiled, comforting him after he broke down in tears. He didn’t know what to do, feeling stuck and helpless as he could do nothing but watch the love of his life wither away.

“You’re my heart.” They said over and over. “You’re my everything.” Treasure leaned their forehead against his, closing their eyes and letting their thoughts reach him.

“You’re my everything too.” He whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Please don’t go.”

His arms held them tighter.

“Please… don’t go.”

~~~

At the end of winter, spring always comes.

Time marches on.

Flowers bloom.

And the world turns anyway.

But Porter felt like he was stuck in winter. The world froze around him, colours fading away into a pale, cold grey.

There was no warmth.

No warm body in his arms each night. No smile to light up the room. Silence when he came home after work.

He visited their grave every day, laying a new bouquet of flowers next to the ones from the days before.

He only knew colour when they were there.

And now he’ll only ever see the colours of the flowers at their tombstone.

*prolonged silence* “oh my…”

“sir…sir how will we make first contact with them? surely we…we cannot refuse this handclasping ritual, they will take it as an insult, but what vulcan would agree to such a distasteful and uncomfortable ritual??”

Bonus: here’s a screencap of Solkar doing the “my body is ready” pose right before he shakes Zefram Cochrane’s hand:

That’s why he’s so slow in doing it, and so sensual. A part of Solkar can’t believe this is happening, despite it being a perfectly logical thing to expect from a human, and the rest of him can’t believe how good it is.

I bet that if the camera zoomed in any further we would see the dilation of Solkar’s pupils and a quickly-repressed shiver of delight. Cochrane’s firm, businesslike clasp is probably (in sexual terms) being perceived as a deliciously carnal display of dominance.

See I see ur vision:

But I DO think it would be immediately followed up by:

And as a bonus:

The act of embracing another being, to envelope them in your arms and let them melt into your body until you couldn’t tell where they started and you ended was a sacred act to him. Ironic, considering it was an inherent part of intimacy as an incubus.

But holding someone simply because you wanted to, to provide comfort to someone you love, to be their place of rest meant everything to him. Freelancer loved hugging - it was something he learned early on. Gavin assumed it was their way of initiating sex, but that assumption was quickly dismissed as they settled in his arms, eyes closing as their breathing slowed and their tense shoulders finally relaxed.

Nowadays it’s an essential part of their daily routine. He’ll hold them as they fall asleep at night. Keep them in his arms as they wake in the morning, their adorable sleepy eyes fluttering open and crinkling as they smiled at him. He’ll let them jump into his arms as he welcomed them home after another long day at the academy. Open his arms in invitation for cuddles as they winded down for the day with some snacks and video games.

It was all so… domestic.

Who would’ve thought an incubus would enjoy such things?

“I love you because you’re you.“

Perhaps it’s a Gavin thing.

“Not because you’re an incubus.”

It’s definitely a Gavin thing.

“I love you, Gavin.”

Gavin melted at their confession, one they had said many times and would repeat often, as he would repeat his confessions of love to them.

Their adorable eyes, dilating and shining with love for him, made his breath catch in his chest. His mouth couldn’t form words, so he let his body talk.

Incubi were good at that.

But Gavin was better at letting love steer the conversation.

He reached for them, hands holding their wrists as he pulled them down from where they stood to join him on the couch. They folded like putty in his hands, letting him guide them into his arms and settling in their spot with their hearts pressed together, arms holding each other tight.

Warden who has not really known touch. Touch comes when handing over paperwork, or handling coffee, or being crammed on the train, or helping someone to their feet so they can leave Warden again. Or worse, it comes with being pushed in the halls, tripped and stomped on, fighting and working and everything the department expects them to do with no training. Relationships are out of the picture, even those as simple as friends.

Meanwhile Vega, cruel and scary as he is, is a fiend for touch. Claws that leave little white lines upon skin, and fingers that can brush so gently. Strong arms to hold up and hold down and pick up and wrap around. A tail to flick and carress. Legs to kick and encircle and press. He is always up to touch. As a form of intimidation, of fight, of affection.

And so Warden gets to experience soft touch properly. Maybe some of it is manipulation, but Vega did not want them straining when feeding that first time, moving them closer himself, and stopping them from trying to get up before they were ready. He softly checked over their body for healing wounds, brushing their cheek, holding their hand. So many small markers of affection they could barely process let alone take in.

And he gave it freely. He offered them eternity with him. He helped them and protected them and spoke so sweetly and gently to them, just as he acted too. And he still does, even if he is more awkward, more careful, much less willing to push their boundaries and push his own curiosity.

Another design is using 2 20x25x1 filters, taping them to the sides of the box fan and then to each other so they sort of make a triangle, then cutting cardboard to make a top and bottom to the triangle.

This was discovered as a more effective design during the 2020 US west coast fires.

https://tombuildsstuff.blogspot.com/2013/06/better-box-fan-air-purifier.html