#I also remember reading somewhere that it was meant to exploit a loophole in a treaty limiting the number of MS per ship but can't find it.

[voltronimus-prime]

First, the Impulse was meant to have more legs and torso parts to choose from, just like the original, but the Minerva was forced to launch before development was completed.

Second, even without other options, simply being able to quickly replace the entire torso or legs in case of damage allowed it to carry on fighting long after other suits would have been rendered useless.

its so stupid that they send the impulse out piece by piece btw. its so stupid that its even got a coreblock system to begin with like. it made sense on the original gundam because you had the guntank and guncannon about you could swap cockpits with but whats even the point when you only have the one suit with it like

[exceptcas]

Detroit

Mild spoilers for the season 13 finale. | Dean has been possessed for months. Sam finds him in Detroit. | Read on Ao3

Written for @spnhiatuscreations​ week one prompt: “And if we die? We’ll do that together too.”

Tags: major character death, angst, references to end!verse

Note: I changed the way the end of the finale went because I thought certain aspects of it were dumb.

It had been months since Dean had been possessed. Months since he’d said yes. Time was a loose concept to him now, days passing irregularly but he caught glimpses every now and then of newspapers and documents with dark timestamps in the corners. Months since…

Dean remembered saying yes, letting that cosmic light in. Michael, taking the backseat in his brain. Zapping to the church only to find Lucifer already dead, wings burned into the marble. Sam, holding the bloody archangel blade. There was a moment of victory between him, Sam, and Jack - breathless smiles, disbelieving looks. Then, Michael, pushing Dean aside with heavenly strength, exploiting the loophole in their deal. The loophole Sam had created the moment the blade went through Lucifer’s ribs.

That was the last time Dean had seen his brother, the last time he had been in control. Michael was at the wheel of this body now and he had an iron grip.

For the past few months, they had been traveling the world in flashes of light. Michael was on a mission and Dean had front row seats. He had been forced to watch as Michael imparted bits of his grace to high powered people all over the world. It was like small doses of possession, enough to bend their will to his when the time was right, whenever that would be. Michael had Dean pretty much gagged so Dean couldn’t even make one joke about sipping the Kool-Aid.

It also meant Dean couldn’t bite back while Michael went on an internal non-stop diatribe about “planting the seeds of salvation ” and other culty, terrifying nonsense. There was only one positive for Dean in this whole mess: every time Michael dished out a bit of grace to some dude in a suit, his power over Dean grew weaker. Dean could fight against Michael’s power just enough now to make obscene gestures and one-word expletives echo into Michael’s brain. And hey, that was something.

They were in Detroit when it happened. One of Michael’s cronies had spotted Cas outside from the window of their hotel room.

“Let him come,” Michael said with a pleased tone. “This should be fun to watch, right Dean?”

Dean pushed against his will long enough to flip him off.

That was when the fire alarms went off. Water sprayed from the ceiling, drenching Michael’s followers. Michael repelled the water away from himself the moment it started to pour. As they surveyed the scene - Michael’s followers looking at one another and back to him with confusion, drenched in water - Dean couldn’t help but notice that the consistency was off. It looked too slick to be water.

There was a knock at the door. One of the followers opened it to reveal Castiel, lighter in hand. It flickered orange light across his face for a moment. He threw it into the room. Instantly, everything was lighting up, the drenched cronies swallowed up in a holy-oil driven flame. There were agonized screams but Michael simply watched, calmly. Castiel had disappeared from the doorway, likely zapping off somewhere far away.

Dean knew that Michael had the power to stop this, to rescue the poor people who held bits of grace inside of them. Instead, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. They were no longer in the room but in a garden. It was the one just behind the hotel, roses everywhere. It looked familiar.

In the center, surrounded by the lush colors and the dark churning sky above stood Jack Kline, palm outstretched like he’d been waiting. Without hesitation, he sent his full force of power in a wave, rippling and knocking into Michael. It was violent and powerful yet Michael was only driven back slightly, his shoes digging into the dirt as he held his ground. Dean could feel Michael’s power over him drain as Michael used it to fight against the shove.

Dean heard his own voice and wanted to shudder at the way Michael spoke, laughed humorlessly. “You really think that will hurt me, boy?” He asked.

Jack’s gaze didn’t waver. “Who said anything about hurting you?”

Michael tilted his head. He gave a smile, a dark twisted thing and began to approach Jack, gravel crunching under his feet. Jack disappeared in a soft rush of air.

“Dean!”

It was a voice Dean knew better than his own, ringing out over his shoulder. Dean started kicking at the wall of power Michael was using to keep him in. Michael turned to look at the source of the voice.

Sam stood at the entrance to the garden. His eyes were darker, his face scruffy and gaunt. There was a new jagged scar running down his neck in a pink line. Dean hadn’t seen his brother look so terrible in so long. He kicked at the wall harder, fighting Michael’s will. He just needed to talk to Sam, apologize for making the dumb rash decision that had gotten them here in the first place.

“Dean, I know you’re in there.” Sam said, mouth tight.

Michael raised a brow. “Dean’s not home right now. Leave a message.”

Sam huffed. “Alright. How’s this?”

He pulled a lighter from his back pocket and flicked it open, tossing it on the ground in front of him. A ring of holy fire sprung up around Michael, hissing and crackling. The heat of it, the holiness weakened Michael’s grip enough and Dean broke through the wall, taking back control of himself.

His throat felt hoarse, his body exhausted but he looked at Sam and smiled. “Sammy.”

“Dean?”

Dean nodded.

Sam gave a small smile but the worried look came back onto his face instantly. “We don’t have much time. Dean, you’ve got to get rid of him, now. You need to kick him out.” Sam said in a rush.

Dean closed his eyes and focused. He focused on kicking Michael out, every last scrap of his grace. But he was holding on, fighting back. It was like he had claws in Dean’s soul. He tried and tried but Michael wasn’t letting go. Dean knew they didn’t have time for this.

“I can’t,” Dean said.

He reached into the pocket of his coat. Michael had been carrying around his archangel blade this whole time, thinking it safer than having it stored somewhere. Dean tossed it to Sam, who caught it with a confused look. “It’s the only way.”

Sam tightened his hand around the hilt of the blade. “No. Try again, fight him off. Cas did it with Lucifer and you can-”

“No, I can’t, Sammy. He’s too strong.” Dean said, stepping right up to the line of holy fire. “If you don’t do this, he is going to kill you and then everyone else on the planet.”

Sam looked up from the blade. “And if I do this , it will kill you!”

“We don’t have any other choice,” Dean said, brows drawn together. He could feel Michael clawing his way through Dean’s willpower. Dean kept him at bay, nearly doubling over with the effort. “Now, Sammy.”

Michael was almost free, shredding through the last wisps of Dean’s free will.

Sam gave a pained smile, eyes damp. He pulled Dean in, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. Dean onto his brother as Sam pressed the blade to his side. Michael tore through, just as Sam shoved the blade between Dean’s ribs. There was an agonized scream as Michael’s essence burned out of Dean’s body, blue light filling the garden.

Dean dropped to the ground, a heavy thud in the silence. The holy oil fire had burned out, leaving dark line in the dirt, and Sam laid on the other side of it. The blade in Dean’s side had definitely pierced a lung, his breaths coming ragged now. He dragged his way over to Sam, knelt beside him.

Sam’s mouth was bloody. An angel blade rested in his abdomen at an odd angle. The blade Michael always carried in his sleeve. Dean let out a ragged sound as he pulled his brother up, cupped Sam’s face and neck in his hands.

"Sammy, you did it."

His eyes were half-closed but Sam clapped a hand on Dean’s arm. “ We did it.”

Sam slumped onto Dean’s shoulder,eyes closed. Dean held him for a long time, kneeling in the garden, seeping their blood into the dirt. Dean held Sam until his own eyes grew heavy.