#all these sides of him are fighting in a constant war and it's sucking out his soul and none of them win in the end

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. calling your boyfriend ‘daddy’ for the first time has him actually losing it.

tags. dom olderbf!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, fluff-ish. pwp-ish. age gap (reader early 20’s, gojo early 30’s). daddy kink! p in v -> protected turns into unprotected. mention of potential pregnancy. creampǐe. reader gets called ‘princess, baby’. not proof-read. wc: above 1k.

the air in the dimly lit bedroom is thick with tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken desires. satoru lounges on the king-sized bed, his lean yet muscular frame sprawled across the egyptian cotton sheets.

he watches you intently as you move around your shared bedroom, your curvy body draped in a silky robe that leaves little to the imagination. the sheer fabric clings to your curves which emphasizes the swell of your breasts and the dip of your waist.

satoru’s piercing blue eyes follow your every movement and his gaze is intense and hungry. he can feel the heat building in his groin, the familiar ache that always accompanies your presence. it is a constant battle—this need he has for you.

it’s a never-ending war between his desire to possess you completely and his desperate need to keep you safe from the darkest parts of himself. the one he tries to hide behind that charming façade of his.

he’s been fighting his true feelings for so long. he’s tried to resist, to keep you at arm’s length to prevent another heartbreak. to prevent another probability of someone in his life leaving him.

but in the end, he’s given in. taken you as his girlfriend even through everything. however even now, even with you standing before him, he can’t shake the feeling that you’re still slipping away from him. that at any moment, you can disappear, leaving him alone and empty.

it makes him feel possessive. extremely so.

satoru pushes himself up onto his elbows, his biceps flexing as he moves. “c’mere, baby,” he says, his voice low and rough with desire. “let me see you.”

you pause in your tracks, your eyes meeting his gaze. there is a flicker of something in them, a hint of hesitation. but then you take a step forward, and another, until you stand at the edge of the bed.

“yes?” you tilt your head, a questioning look in your gaze. you brush a few of his white hairs to the side, tucking them behind his ear gently, “something on your mind?”

satoru's heart raced as he reaches out before his large hand wraps around your wrist. he tugs you down onto the bed, his other arm snaking around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.

“mm well, it’s just that. . . y’ look really good, princess,” he murmurs in that sultry voice of his. his lips brush against the soft skin of your neck. he can feel the heat of you, the way your body melts against his own. it’s a feeling he’s come to crave—a sensation he needs more than air.

satoru's hand slides up your side, his fingers tracing the curve of your breast through the thin fabric. “’toru,” you gasp his name out softly as satoru’s fingers find your nipple. it's already stiff beneath the robe. your back arches slightly, pressing your tit further into his unexpected touch.

satoru’s breath hitches, his cock twitching in his pants as he feels you respond to him. he rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching and tugging gently, coaxing it to an even harder form.

his other hand slides down, over the curve of your ass, squeezing the firm globe possessively. he kneads the soft flesh, his fingers sinking into your skin as he holds you tight against him. satoru's hips rocked forward, grinding his hardening erection against your stomach. he is already so hard, so fucking desperate for you. it's a constant state with you. that all-consuming need that never seems to abate.

satoru's lips trail up your necjk and his teeth graze your jawline. he nips and sucks at the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of marks in his wake. your breath comes faster, your chest heaving against his own. the older man can feel your heart racing, pounding in time with his own.

it’s a heady feeling knowing that he affects you this way. that he can make you feel this much simply by touching you.

"fuck, i want you," satoru lets out in a half whimper, half growl. “wanna feel you come apart in my arms, baby.”

he captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue delves deep to claim every inch of you. he kisses you like a man starved, like you’re the air he needs to breathe.

his large hands roam your body, touching you everywhere, mapping out every dip and curve. he can’t get enough of you, can never touch you enough.

as you kiss, you feel satoru’s slender fingers slip beneath the hem of your robe, pushing the fabric up and over your thighs. you gasp into his mouth as his fingers find your clothed cunt, stroking through the slick folds. your lover groans, his cock throbbing at the feel of you. of course you’re already so wet and ready for him.

“daddy,” you whimper, the word slipping from your lips before you could stop it. it’s a name you’ve never called him before in bed, but in the heat of the moment, it felt right. it felt perfect.

satoru froze. his heart stops for a moment, your whispered word echoing in the charged air between you two.

daddy.

shit, the way it sounds falling from your kiss-swollen lips, your voice breathy and needy. it sends a jolt straight to his cock, his dick throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his sweatpants. he’s so fucking hard it hurts.

“fuck, princess,” satoru shudders, his voice ragged with lust and something else. something deeper and darker. "you want daddy to take care of you? want me to make you feel good? keheh, alright."

he puts an emphasis on the ‘daddy’, almost mockingly, as a teasing grin tugs at the corners of his lips. he will not be holding back; that’s for sure.

his fingers slide beneath your panties and inside your warm pussy, pumping steadily as his thumb circles your clit. that slip-up of yours only encouraged him to be more bold.

“mgh!” you buck against his hand, your hips undulating in an instinctive rhythm. satoru's heart races as he watches you—watches the pleasure play out across your face. your eyes flutter shut, your head tilting back as you lose yourself in the sensation.

“yes, ngh, daddy,” you whimper again, and this time satoru actually can’t hold back.

he surges forward, flipping your positions so that he hovers over you. he can feel the heat of you—the way your body trembles beneath him. he can see the desire in your eyes, the way they clung to him with a desperation that mirrored his own.

“shit, baby, you have no idea what you do to me,” your lover grunts, his voice low and rough with desire. “you’re mine, all mine. and i’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

with that, he crashes his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss. he swallows your cries of pleasure and drinks down down every gasp and moan like a man dying of thirst. his hands roam your body, touching you everywhere, claiming every inch of your soft skin.

the white haired man pushes your robe up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. he then sits back on his knees and takes in the sight of your naked body splayed out beneath him.

“look at you,” he lets out a breathy chuckle, his eyes dark with lust. a feral look you’ve never seen in those beautiful blue eyes of his. “spread out like a feast just for me, hm?” his hand slides up your inner thigh, his fingers skimming over your slick folds once more.

satoru watches, enraptured, as your back arches off the bed, your full breasts bouncing slightly with the motion. your pretty eyes flutter open and lock with his as you pant softly. “please, yes. . .” you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. “need you inside me. need to feel you filling me up, stretching me.”

satoru's cock throbs almost painfully at your lewd words to the point that pre-cum beads at the tip. fuck, the way you beg for him, the desperate hunger in your eyes. . . it drove him wild. with a low moan, the older man surges forward and captures your lips in another desperate kiss.

his hands make quick work of his own clothes, practically tearing them from his body in his haste to feel your bare skin against his own. satoru shrugs off his tailored shirt—not bothering with the buttons. he yanks at the strings of his sweatpants and lets the material slide off his shapely legs before tossing the clothing aside. in a matter of seconds, he is bare before you, his muscular body on full display. his impressive cock juts out, long, hard and thick.

“can't wait either, baby. need you so bad,” satoru swallows thickly. he's losing it slowly yet surely.

he reaches for a condom from the nightstand drawer, tearing open the foil packet with his teeth. he easily rolls the latex sheath over his throbbing dick, hissing at the sensation. he is so hard, so desperate to be inside you. he needs to feel and see you fall apart on his dick.

satoru settles between your spread thighs before tugging your panties down. he rips them in the process and you're surprised by the pure need in his actions. usually, he's a much more composed guy, patient and loving, but now he looks like he'll cry if he doesn't get to be intimate with you.

“ah, 'toru,” you whine as he teases you with his tip. the head of his cock nudges against your slick hole, not quite penetrating yet. “put it in, please—daddy.”

you know using that word will get you what you want. and it indeed did.

with a single, powerful thrust, satoru buries himself inside you to the hilt. “fuck! ungh, you feel incredible,” he rasps, his voice strained with pleasure. he starts to move almost instantly, his hips rocking against yours in a steady rhythm. the bed creaks beneath you and the headboard slams against the wall with each powerful thrust.

he can't focus on anything else. except on the fact that he's trying his best not to cum on spot. with you calling him that godforsaken nickname that gets him pathetically turned on, and with the sight of you laying beautifully beneath him—it's so hard.

satoru's hips continue to snap forward, driving into you with deep thrusts. the room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin which is again punctuated by your ragged breaths and wanton moans.

“your cunt feels like heaven, princess,” your lover grunts, “so fuckin' tight and wet, like you were made for m’ dick.” he leans down and captures one of your nipples in his mouth. hs suckles hard, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak before he bites down gently, sending sparks of pleasure-pain shooting through you.

you keen at the sensation, your fingers tangling in satoru's white hair. “ahh, yes! please don't stop, daddy!” you beg before wrapping your legs around his waist. the new angle allows him to drive even deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust.

satoru can feel his release building, his balls drawing up tight. but he wants to feel you come undone first. he wants to watch you shatter in ecstasy, to hear you scream his name as you come apart on his cock. he reaches between your sweat-slicked bodies and his fingers find your clit. he rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves in tight circles. almost in time with the ways his hips move.

the moans you let out after that have satoru moaning in your ears. it's all too much for him. yet despite his overstimulation, he seeks more.

more of you.

suddenly, satoru pulls out, his slick cock emerging from your dripping cunt with a gush of fluid. he quickly sheds the condom, tying off the used latex before tossing it aside. his cock bobs against his stomach, the thick shaft flushed a deep, angry red. the slit of his tip is still weeping with pre-cum.

satoru looks down at you with a pleading expression. his adam's apple bobs in his throat almost nervously as he mentally prepares himself to ask you the question. “please,” he whimpers, his brows furrowed and eyes glassy with pure lust and desperation, “please, can i—can i go in raw?”

his voice cracks a little as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. the pathetic whimpers that leave his lips, the sudden switch in attitude, gets you weak. absolutely weak. you can't say no to that man when he acts like that.

your breath hitches and you feel yourself giving in instantly. you slowly nod and massage his scalp, causing him to look back up at you. “yes,” you swallow thickly before continuing, “wanna feel you-all of you—inside of me.”

satoru’s eyes flash with pure lust as he hears your agreement. with an almost feral grin, he grips your hips and drives forward, burying his thick, bare cock deep into your soaked pussy. a choked up moan tears from his throat at the exquisite sensation of your cunt gripping him like a fist.

“theeere we go,” satoru lets out a shaky breath. he squeezes his eyes shut and desperately buries his face into the crook of your neck. he’s trying so hard not to cum on spot.

he’s really trying his best. his hips are flush against yours and he’s not moving an inch. because if he does, he fears he will cum instantly. and hard.

your arms wrap around his shoulders. you can see faint dots swimming around in your vision because of how good and intimate this feels. your mind is blank and all your thoughts are about the man above you.

“daddy?” you whisper in that almost angelic voice again, “you okay?”

there it goes again. satoru’s cock twitches inside of you and he lets out a muffled moan right into your ear. he’s breathing heavily. his balls squeeze up tight as he hears the way you address him again. he can’t.

“fuck it,” the older man mumbles under his throat before he pulls back a little. just enough to look you in the face as he starts to thrust in and out of your cunt again. “hold onto me,” he adds with a grunt before he speeds up.

you let out a surprised gasp and tighten your hold onto him, your legs wrapping around his waist again. you so desperately hold on—feeling his dick hit all your right places.

the pace he sets is even faster than before. harder and deeper. your eyes widen and your nails dig across his muscular back, leaving red scratches behind on his milky skin.

“ohh! right there!” your tongue almost lolls out of your mouth, eyes rolling back as you feel the tip of his cock bump against that sweet spot inside of you. the one that has your toes curling and your body tensing.

satoru can feel every inch of you, every quiver and flutter around his plundering cock. he knows he hit the spot when your cunt is squeezing him so tightly it makes his entire body shudder. “yeah? right here, hm?” he coos as his hips saw in and out of you more desperately.

it’s pure ecstasy to him like this, a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. he knows he will not last long like this, not with the way your greedy little cunt is sucking him in, trying to pull him even deeper.

“i’m going to cum, baby,” he warns between heavy breaths. drops of his sweat trickle onto your skin, his bangs sticking to his forehead. “can’t last any longer—mnnngh—your pussy feels too good.”

you can feel it too. that need to push yourself right over the edge, to feel that bliss wash over you. your body tenses and you nod frantically as you look up at satoru through your wet eyelashes.

“i-inside,” you whimper between breathy moans, voice almost drowned out by all the lewd squelchy noises coming from between your two bodies. “cum inside, please—please daddy.”

you didn’t need to tell him twice.

satoru’s head falls back and he slams his hips forward one more time. “y-you can’t just say that, fuuuuck,” he tries to get out between moans, hips stuttering and cock jerking as spurt after spurt of his thick cum floods your insides without warning.

“yes, yes, yes—give it to me. cum on daddy’s cock,” he groans as his orgasm triggers yours. your pussy spasms uncontrollably around his dick, milking him from all that he has stored in those heavy balls. your squeals of ecstasy, your moans in the shape of his name—it’s too much.

satoru’s dick twitches weakly as the last ropes of his cum nestle deep inside of your fertile womb, right where he wants it. right there, where his child can possibly grow. the images of you pregnant flash through his mind as he looks down at your fucked out form beneath him.

“. . . y’know, you’ll look so pretty pregnant,” he blurts out without even knowing it. he collapses on top of you with a blissful smile tugging at his lips. he hugs you to his chest before rolling you over so you’re on top of him.

his hands rub soothing circles on your back before massaging your sore hips and thighs. the older man can’t help but grind up against you, keeping his dick inside of your creampied cunt to keep his cum plugged up.

you hum tiredly, not having any energy to respond or say anything. your eyes are already drooping as you lay on top of your boyfriend, his warmth and affectionate touches after such an intense moment leaving you putty in his hands.

“rest up, princess,” satoru presses a kiss on top of your head, still grinning to himself.

he’s exactly where he wants to be. in his home, cuddling with a hot woman in his arms after getting his dick wet.

what else does he need in life?

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Forty Two - Soldier Executioner

Part Forty One

———

Flight simulation was initially used in Europe, though not as it is today, during the years before and leading up to the First World War the precursors to flight simulation were coming about. With ground training for air assaults and sky shooting taking place. 

The first proper flight simulator was used in Binghamton, New York starting in 1927. Creating an airplane-like shell that sat atop a device that would offer some similar cues to actual air flight. Becoming known as the Link Trainer. 

Starting in World War Two, over five hundred thousand new pilots from the allied nations were trained using the Link Trainer, for both major fronts. 

In 1954, United Airlines purchased four flight simulators to start the modern era of simulations. Everything from airplanes, to helicopters, race cars and now mech suits. 

Generally, simulators are used as a training tool to familiarize the user with the cockpit they will be attending, the procedures they will be following and emergency situational response.

Like flight simulators, mech suit simulators are not much different. A connecting point between the experienced pilots and the rookies, the recently compatible, the constant need to learn and adapt to the new scenarios they would be facing. 

Unlike flight simulators, the only way to use a simulator effectively is once the connection system, known as the implants, has been placed within the pilot. A proper connection is necessary for a comprehensive understanding of the system, emergency codes, and errors that every pilot will face in the field.

Not that they might face, but that they will face. 

Simulators are key to all pilots' experiences, whether in flight or the fight. 

It just so happens that learning to fly a plane is only slightly different from learning to operate a mech unit. All stepping from the same idea of teaching soldiers how to kill moving targets. 

—

The further in he got, the worse he felt, this horrible feeling of homesickness which he’d been able to kick pretty early on was hitting him like a truck now. Deep in the depths of the enemy spaceship reminded him of the pilot simulators back home, being strapped in and having everything thrown at you. 

Down to one arm and a prayer, Hound kept moving slowly, gun raised and ready. Finger never leaving the trigger. 

All the walls were oozing and suddenly he was grateful to be breathing from oxygen tanks rather than the air around him. Who knew what sort of undiscovered toxins were aboard.

Slowly turning down a different path, his gun comes up and fires upon a Quintesson. The thing shrieks more out of rage than pain which was never a good sign, “Come on then!” Running forward, Hound slams into the enemy face first. Lodging his gun up close, he fires point blank into the alien.

His visor tunneled and swearing, he fired quickly, slamming his empty shoulder into the side of the thing as pain shot through his implants.

The voices in his ears weren’t real, at least not in the context that he was currently hearing them but they were louder than the current noise around him. Even the roar of the Quintesson. 

“God damnit Hound, your scores just aren’t good enough!” Kup’s voice was always painfully loud and demanding, he was a great commander but it sucked when you were the one being yelled at, “I know that! I know,” He sighed shakily, staying in the sim, kicking the Quintesson on its beak.

In the rig, he was thankful Kup couldn’t rest a hand on his shoulder, eyes flicking around urgently. Even just starting out, being a hunter took a lot more focus than being a striker did. They could stumble around blindly in the dark without reprimand, the hunter class had to be precise and know their next move before it was possible to.

Even at this point, Kup had been an old school pilot, multi-class before that had been thought possible, the man was ancient in Hound’s eyes. It was late 2002, if he could recall it right, he’d been twenty then and Kup had felt older than dirt. 

The banging on the sim door did not help as he tore open a Quintesson, data running through the corner of his vision at the sim picked up data, “You need to focus on the fight! Not the simulation, you need to trick your mind into thinking you’re actually out on that field!” Growling, Hound’s gun fired into the carcass on the floor of the ship before running forward.

His mentor saw more potential in him than he even saw in himself, one of his many mentors, just another ex-military pilot that tried pulling at his heart strings. Hound’s focus was deadlier than any other standing hunter class, the most kills within the same amount of time and holding the record for the moment.

Simulation hours were near triple of the next closest pilot, he stunk of desperation. This was beyond a calling, this was his life.

Swearing, Hound shoots as another Quintesson appears from around the corner, the ship is a maze. He wasn’t sure if that was the reality or the simulation of it all, “Focus Hound! You can’t let another pilot die under your watch, striker or not!” His gun attached itself to his wrist, just as his fist collided with the Quintesson, bare foot slamming down on a pair of tentacles. 

“Shut up!” His gun slid back into place and he fired until the barrel was red hot. Splattered with green, he was heaving for breath, “That’s better Hound, much better.” Kup’s voice seemed to wander away, fading as his vision became clear again. No longer the artificial view from the simulator. 

No, he was just standing in a hall on the Quintesson ship, alone except for the corpses he was leaving in his wake. 

Trying to shake off the feeling of the hallucination, he took slow and deep breaths. Unstrapping his mask while closing his eyes, grabbing up his water, his gun sliding back to his wrist. His other arm effectively dead to the world and to his current use, it was numb too. 

He drank deeply, eyes closed and trying to breath, his skin crawled. He hadn’t thought of the old man in ages, he’d love to be on an alien planet fighting Quintessons. More than anything. Smiling a bit, Hound opens his eyes and swears as a Quintesson helps him to the floor.

Help he did not want.

Digging his fingers into the tentacles trying to wrap themselves around him, Hound grit his teeth, “You know, I am sick and tired of you.” And he pulled the tentacles free from the alien’s body, quickly whipping them back at it. It shrieked from pain and Hound grinned wolfishly. 

—

His back hit the ship hard, as his leg caught one of the tentacles whipping around towards him and Jazz, “Fuck you!” Pulling his leg down and twisting it, he pulls the tentacles trying to pin him to the ship free.

The Quintesson shrieks never got any less painful on the ears, even Jazz’s slightly manic laughter was easier on the ears. Talk about a pilot who lived and breathed for this stuff, even without bracers or a gun, he was a natural at taking these things apart. Piece by piece if he had to. 

Bringing his arms up, the next hit split open the attacking Quintesson, splattering him green, “We have a real shitty job, you know that?” He glances over his shoulder, able to lumber up while wailing on the Quintesson, “You either love it or hate it, live or die, it’s still your choice Sides.” Jazz’s response was cool, followed by another wicked laugh.

He had a hard time plating the feet of his suit, the ship a weird mix of metal and flesh, something that made his skin crawl. Getting upright with a yell, he throws himself at another Quintesson. Bracers coming down hard against its shell-like exterior.

It cracked open with his hit, splatting more of his suit in green and he couldn’t help but grin. Maybe this isn’t the career he would have chosen for himself, but he was thrilled to be here.

After a moment, his comm began to ping again, answering, he grunts and swings around, “Yell-o.” He was breathing heavily, “Is there any update?” His heart almost stopped, swinging around, he gasped. The panic tried to grab at his throat again, “Elita, uh, no.” Turning back he yells and collides with the next Quintesson, shoving it hard as Jazz jumps over head, grappling one above him.

“I can’t get through to Optimus or anyone right now, other than you. So what’s going on?” He swings back out and nearly falls, shaking again, staring at the comm-line for a moment before disconnecting it, “I can’t focus on you right now, I’m sorry.” The weakness in his voice almost shattered him.

Tearing at his heart strings, he kept going, tearing apart the Quintessons he could get his hands on. Pushing down the panic and fear and sadness as much as he possibly could. It was right there, bubbling under the surface, collapsed buildings and calm voices trying to reassure him as if he were the one who needed it.

No, not again, he wouldn’t fail like that again.

Yelling, he grabs two Quints by their tentacles and starts to whip them around, “This planet is under our protection!” He slams them into the side of the ship as Jazz falls back into his back, holding off another Quint, he glanced over, “And we’re not going down without a fight, right Sides?” Nodding, he yelled again as he ripped the limbs from them.

With a kick, they flew right into Breakdown’s booming blasts.

”This is for our bar, damn you!” Him and Jazz moved in near sync, turning together and striking the approaching enemy.

They were everywhere. They were surrounded.

On the highest point in the area, the one place they shouldn’t be.

Why was that so familiar?

His bracers were normally blue and nearly glowing, a special alloy from home made of iron and the metal off of Quintesson ships. His plating was normally red, like the car his father had driven around for the better part of their childhoods. Both were covered in green gore, blocking out the familiar and comforting colors.

Jazz was in no better state, the white and blue were also soaked green but the tint to his visor, that paired with the laughter, this was serious. More than he had thought originally.

Fuck.

—

Even from a distance, he could tell things weren’t going well. Holy shit, things were honestly going very badly. The longer Jazz and Sideswipe were on the ship, the more Quintessons seemed to pull themselves from the wreckage. 

Strapping his oxygen mask back on, Sunny tried his hardest not to gag again or worse, he’d have to deep-clean his suit when all of this was said and done. They were terrible about holding onto stains and things. He could remember having to learn how to clean a cockpit on one coated in blood.

It was how he learned he was squeamish. 

With slow and deep breaths, he brings his helmet's additional hud display up, bringing focus back to the outside and not the inside. Iacon came back into clear view and it still looked horrible. 

Keeping his back to Breakdown’s, he couldn’t help looking back over his shoulder, wincing when the cannon got too loud, “BD, is there any sign of Hound yet?” He was still somewhere inside the ship, “No, nothing but static still.” Sighing, Sunstreaker looks around, “Still no sign of our backup either.” His hands were still shaking.

Honestly, his whole suit was still shaking, the panic was sitting below the surface and bursting out every few seconds. He wasn’t very useful at the moment, god, he felt pathetic. Without Blue at his own back he was panicking like a rookie, glancing back towards the ship he could see the shake in Sideswipe’s suit too.

They were all panicking.

That was so much worse. 

Swearing quietly, he took slow breaths again, “God damnit.” Shaking his head a bit, he looks back at Breakdown. 

Breakdown’s stance was steady, feet planted and cannon booming every few seconds, the barrel was starting to glow red which means he’d have to fall back soon. They’d have to fall back soon, which would either mean they’d be leaving Jazz and Sideswipe alone or they’d all leave Hound alone if backup didn’t show up.

Bad news, very bad news.

“Sunstreaker, we need to fall back.” Breakdown’s voice was heavy with grief, shifting his stance slightly, “As soon as my cannon overheats, we’ll be overrun and no help to Jazz and Sideswipe. Do you think they would fall back?” Taking a breath, he shakes his head, “No, they’ll want to wait for Hound, won’t they?” 

He turns and his eyes widen, grabbing Breakdown around the middle and pulling him back as Seeker fire sprays across the ground between them and the fallen ship, “Fuck!” They both stumble and fall with a loud crash.

Breakdown’s suit was so much heavier than his, the crush alerts popping back up for the second time that day. His head slammed into the side of his piloting chair, knocking around in the helmet. Now he really wasn’t going to be able to fight, his vision swimming again.

Groaning painfully, he tries to get his weight back under him, “Breakdown, you’re crushing me.” Their suits groaned and scraped. Metal screeching loudly against their ears as they tried to get up.

More blaster fire rained down on the ship and they scrambled for the alleyway, his back hit the wall while trying to refocus his cameras back towards the ship. Jazz and Sideswipe were still fighting, shouting at each other and likely on comms with the seekers above. 

A hand came down on his shoulder, “We need to fall back, try to get a different vantage point.” Nodding a bit, he pings Sideswipe, it pings three times before his voice comes through, “I’m a bit busy to talk Sonny!” Sighing a bit, Sunny stared towards his brother, “Breakdown and I are having to fall back, his cannon is overheated.” 

“Jazz and I aren’t going to leave Hound behind, you two need to get clear. There’s so many of them around for you both to be unarmed.” His mouth was dry, but he nodded, “We’re going to intercept the backup and get them here, just, hold them off.” Sideswipe looked towards him, saluting lightly. 

Sighing, Sunny looked to Breakdown, “Come on, we’ve gotta hurry.” Helping the bigger mech back up, they started down the alley at as close to a run as a tanker could go.

His gut twisted again painfully, this day was getting worse the longer it dragged on, and they were losing light. 

Seekers screamed overhead while they rushed between buildings.

—

There was something deeply morbid about this but what else was he supposed to do, leave it behind? Sunny couldn’t exactly fight Quintessons while carrying around his arm and Knockout would kill him if it got any further damage. It was bad enough he was the one carrying it.

No, now he was holding the arm of Sunstreaker’s suit, yellow paint scraped off, and dripping what he thought was oil. His digits were brushing over the back of the severed servo, lost in thought.

It was beyond morbid, the only amount of peace that he had with it was the fact that he knew Sunny wore the suit for these moments, to not blow off his own little limbs. His tanks rolled unpleasantly, continuing to brush his digits over the servo with his optics watering. 

This was the first time in ages, since the last war he was pretty sure, that he recognized the stench of fear. It hit him like a metal beam falling on his head, which had happened more than he’d like to admit with the day he was having, but it had been almost a thousand stellar cycles since he smelt this. This was Iacon under attack and they were hiding under the ground.

It was horrible. 

Humans were bags of organic squish and yet they were the ones up on the surface, fighting their shared enemy like it was no big deal. As if a building hadn’t fallen on their heads and they just got back up to fight again while the rest of them came to cover their wounds. 

The arm continued to drip oil onto the unfinished floor.

Hanging his helm and venting slowly, he tried to stop the rapid spinning of his spark, the roiling of his tanks, the anxiety was going to dismantle him. 

Prowl’s voice was the only thing keeping him calm, low and nearly unregistered in his audials, optics flickering as he was running the number along with the logistics. Their backup should be arriving soon, but there were delays. There were always delays in Iacon now.

“Prowl, is there an update?” His voice was quiet, not wanting to disturb the others. Whether Mirage who looked like he was dealing with some processor damage, or Optimus who was holding lightly to Megatron’s unconscious helm, or Knockout who was still working on the Lord Protector. 

He vented slowly and shook his helm, and Blue clutched tighter at the servo, “No, Soundwave is having an issue getting nearby commands in place. Same with Blaster. There are a few other scouting ships on planet.” Nodding slowly, Bluestreak looks up at the ceiling above them.

Every few seconds they could hear the distant booms of Breakdown’s cannon.

It was so familiar to them now, quartex or two of battle together had put that back into his processor. 

Venting, he offlines his optics for a long time, just clutching Sunstreaker’s servos, those servos and Prowl’s voice were grounding to him.

When the booming stopped, it was hard to register but his optics shot immediately to the ceiling, “Something is wrong.” His voice was quiet and Prowl nodded slowly, “Breakdown and Sunstreaker are falling back according to the Seekers, Jazz and Sideswipe are fighting on top of the crash, Hound is not visible on the battlefield.” They briefly shared a look.

That was not good, Hound would do anything for his crew and had done so in the past, the fact he was missing from the field either meant he was down or he was doing something incredibly stupid.

”Scrap.”

—

He felt like hell but was still grinning, nearly evilly. The silence was a lot and it was tearing at his mind, but he kept moving, gun back up and scanning for the enemy.

The disconnect from the outside was bad, he had no idea what was going on outside, but he kept coming across patrols in the halls and handled them with the practiced ease of a tenured pilot. One on an alien planet, but still.

Turning down yet another hallway, Hound takes a breath, two Quints at the end of the hall and what appeared to be a door. First one he’d see in the whole ship, he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing but for the moment they didn’t see him.

Every instinct he’d gotten from being in the military said to shoot them as much and often as he could, being a striker class said the same, but neither were as strong as his old unlocked coding. It was showing him each subtle movement he could make to get closer before attacking and his gun slid back to place against his arm. 

Drawing the barrel of his gun from his leg, he shifts the grip and starts stalking down the hall, moving far too quietly for a suit as big as his. It wasn’t until he was about half way down did they notice him, snapping the barrel to the other side of his wrist, his gun came back forward and he fired four shots, two into each Quintesson in rapid succession. 

The reverberation was killer even in his suit but it didn’t matter, what did was the lack of green splatter. In all the months he’d been using this gun, it had never not pierced the skin of a Quintesson. Now was not the moment to dwell on that though, rushing forward, his gun pressed to the beak of one and fired as many times as he could pull the trigger while kicking the other across its face.

It was the second that snagged his leg while the first shirked from the burns and gun fire, only oozing the familiar green gore. Sliding the gun back to his magnets, he digs into the hole he’d created and pulls hard.

With a Quintesson shrieking in his ear, he lets go and grabs up the one holding his leg, pulling it towards him with a shout of his own, hurling it into the wall. Turning back to the one who was now bleeding again, he adjusts his stance, “I don’t have all day, we do this now or never.” With a shriek it lunged for him.

His fist connected with its eye first, which honestly made his skin crawl. It was one of the few places pilots had the hardest time with, the typical gore they could handle but this was always a last resort. 

Fluorescent gore splattered out, across his plating and the walls as Hound grabbed the edge of the now bare eye socket before bringing his foot up to cave in the rest of its face. It takes three more firm kicks than it typically did to do so, Hound grunting with the effort.

”What the hell are you things?” The first one crumbled to the floor and he spun back around to the second, now being the one slammed into the wall instead of the Quintesson. It shrieked painfully loudly, especially when he stopped on one of it’s tentacles, throwing his empty shoulder into its face. 

They were denser than the typical Quintesson, heavier, as Hound throws the weight of his suit into it and nearly falls on his face. 

Swearing, he draws his gun and fires up under its jaw, “Damnit, you're strong. Megatron would have loved to kill you.” He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, he sure as hell didn’t want to be fighting these things on his own. Green splattered over his arm which he lodged the gun further up the hole he was making.

It was a rather disgusting job they had. 

Only when his gunfire was going straight through did he stop and pull back, panting from the effort. The fight had started only a meter or two from the doors, they were almost back where he started when he’d turned down the hall.

”What the hell.” This was turning bad news to worse, starting back down the hall as a few pieces of plating fell away from his leg, pausing, he bent to pick them back up. Holding them, he goes to the doors and smiles a bit, knocking, “Knock knock, anyone home?” Chucking a bit, he deactivates the door lock with a switch kick to the panel.

The main cabin was small, very small compared to everything else he had been through. Monitors all around showed the area around the ship and a few views of Iacon from above. He stopped to stare for a while, and worse turned into doomsday.

There was a Quintesson in there, of course, which he quickled used the dislodged leg plating in his lands to cut the tentacles, flying towards him, off. Running forward, pushing his suit hard, his gun slides back into place and he fires. Splattering the console green.

Taking slow and deep breaths, Hound heaves, bending and pressing his hands to his knees, “Oh god.” He breathes slowly, pushing himself back upright and going to the console. Trying to wipe off the gore from the dead alien, he had no idea what to do except pull the main disk and shoot the console.

It was a better solution than nothing. 

After a minute, he finds the main part of the console and dislodges it. His comms screamed back to laugh and he yelled, “Ow! Fuck,” turning it down, he presses his hand to the side of his head even as voices crackle back to life, “Hound! Are you in the control room?” Sideswipe’s voice was painful after the silence.

Rubbing his helmet, he swore again, “Yes, I am, has backup showed up yet?” Dragging the console piece away, he pulls free some wires and the closest thing that would resemble a computer.

”No, not yet, we’re still fighting out here and they just keep coming out.” Sighing, Hound shook his head and looked to the monitors again which were filled with static, “Wonderful.” Opening his cockpit, he sets the hard drive inside carefully, followed by the pieces of his leg plating that would fit. 

He got slammed back into the console as the cockpit closed, turning, he kicked out against whatever was attacking him.

It didn’t look like any type of Quintesson he’d ever seen, then again, they didn’t typically carry weapons or stand on two feet, “Fuck.” And it grinned.

———

A/N

Oh my god, this chapter took me a week to write. My life has been nuts and this took so long.

(It honestly probably took the normal time, but I never had a spare minute this week)

So. I’ll explain some of what’s going on in my life, then what happens with Hound in this chapter. :)

Last Thursday/Friday, I found out I got into my local Law School, so I am finally on the path to becoming a lawyer. Saturday, I went to see Thunderbolts* which has been eating my brain ever since and I have had to fight tooth and nail to not write Marvel fanfic. Sunday, was not a great day I had to deal with a bunch of paperwork stuff. Monday, my sister was home all day so I was spending most of the day with her. Tuesday, had to catch up on what I hadn’t done around the house on Monday. Wednesday, just didn’t write and was in a funk. Yesterday, I had a job interview and my sister was home again. Then today I finished the chapter.

So… yeah.

Now, Hound and the pilots have spent their careers fighting Quintesson Scouts. The big flying light weight aliens who survey. They are fighting a mix of Scouts and Soldier's in this moment, like the ones Hound fought outside the command room. And the last one is an executioner, who they have never seen before. So next chapter might be a bit of fun.

TAGS

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @sirassban @cosmique-oddity @garbageenthusiast @xervias @azulabutterfly @fryseem @spring-mc @echo-circuit @aghostsnail @wooblewooble @ask-glory-haddock-and-others @nonsscrapheap @magichats @iminahole247 @omgflyingderpywhale @thetrexartist @naaaafam @elegantmantaray @emichusai @waterlilykitty @diabolichare @ham4ponyo @osqindaxend @sunnyvibesanddoodles @ratatatata248 @ijustneedausernaneplease4444444 @sprook-children @fooolisher 

And once again thank you to @Keferon for this amazing AU

[revelboo]

Ahhh you’re sky fire was soo good and star scream and sound wave im on the edge of my seat. Anyways if possible a part 2 for the big old scientist sky fire.

Sure!

Floating Down The River Pt 3

IDW Skyfire x Reader

• Servos pressed to your spine, he’s not sure if you’re only after his warmth or if you’re just an affectionate, little thing. Feeling your constant shivering as you shift against him, chilly little hands against his mesh to make him shudder. “Sorry,” you mumble as he vents, a leg outstretched, sitting on the cold ground. Not sure what to do now. Knows he could reach out to the Autobots, but he might end up sucked into the war when he just wants to maintain his pacifism and neutrality. So tired of the unending fighting.

• “It’s alright,” he says, deep voice rumbling through you where you’re plastered against his warm mesh, shamelessly leaching his heat since you’re still wet and freezing. And the giant robot, Skyfire, is being a good sport about it, tolerating your wet, icy self. And you’re too frazzled to be scared of him. If he was going to hurt you, he wouldn’t be trying to keep you warm. Probably. If you think of him as your own iron giant with a much bigger vocabulary, he’s not so scary at all.

• “What are you doing out here, anyway?” You ask, a knee sliding against him, your breath distractingly warm on his mesh. Fidgeting as he tries to figure out how exactly to answer that. Because right now? He’s living under a bridge, only returning to the Ark to have to beg for energon, but refusing to stay and listen to Optimus try to convince him to join a war that goes against everything he believes in. That he’d still refuse to join even if his best friend wasn’t on the wrong side of.

• “I like it out here. Your world’s lovely. Alive,” he says slowly and that last word catches at you. Alive. Like maybe his world isn’t. Maybe he’d come here as a refuge because he didn’t have a choice? “I’m sorry about earlier. I have to remain hidden.” Yeah, you can get that. Because the government would only see a threat or a weapon they can use. And what he wants wouldn’t matter at all, would it? For some reason the thought of this big, gentle guy getting used, maybe hurt bothers you. It’s silly to feel protective of a giant, alien robot, especially considering there’s nothing you could really do to help him if he did need it. But he could have let you drown and any worries about you ratting him or would have died with you, but he’d saved you anyway even knowing you might still betray him.

Previous

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[weirdmorefics]

Hi! Can I send in a request for being another timelord who travels with the 9th doctor and Rose Tyler being like a sister figure to Y/N?

A/N- Yes yes yes!!! I have actually had an idea for something like this just hadn't written it yet.

Readers Pronouns- She/Her

Word Count- 3.9k

Summary- (BASED ON S1 E6) The Doctor and Rose find themselves in a bunker in Utah full of alien artifacts. They are shocked to find some of these artifacts are alive and not here of their own free will. You just so happen to be one of these artifacts.

The Slightly Behind Timelord

I used to keep track of how many days I'd been chained and experimented on but the days quickly turned into months and the months turned to years. I've long since lost hope of ever returning to Gallifrey. It was in shambles when I was last home, the war was constant. I was a coward and stole my parent's Tardis to escape from having to fight. A stupid coward who didn't check if it was in working condition to only have crashed and ended up imprisoned by a man who I know as Mr. Van Statten. I should have stayed and fought then at least I would have died with dignity.

I have refused to talk since my arrival. I may have betrayed Gallifrey by fleeing but I refuse to make things worse than they already are there. Nevertheless, Mr. Van Statten comes and talks to me every single day asking about about my ship. They have dissected the TARDIS piece by piece. I secretly hope it burns them alive. When Mr. Van Statten inevitably gets nothing out of me he sends in a man an orange suit to torture it out of me. It never works but they do not stop.

Today was different they had a new man with them, he was restrained and they strapped him to the walls like me. I wonder if this was a new torture strategy.

"Look here we got you a friend maybe now you will do some talking," Van Statten says cheerfully.

I look at the man with pity knowing they are going to torture him as well. Van Statten's men unchain me and drag me to the other side of the room. I don't even fight them anymore I don't have the energy to spare.

Van Statten powers up his inhumane X-ray and says, "Smile!"

The man screams in pain as the red beam scans him and Van Statten smiles in glee at the results.

"Two hearts! A binary vascular system! Here I thought you were special," he shouts a glare in my direction and the man chained up widens his eyes.

The man doesn't look at Van Statten but puts his focus on me, "Where are you from?"

"No point in talking to her she hasn't spoken since we tore her from the rubble of her ship. She put up quite the fight when we started dissembling her ship screaming you are killing her. Then not a single word," he sighs in disappointment shaking his head at me. "I would get rid of her now that I have you but I need more information about the ship."

I suck in a breath they kill without care here, I wonder if everyone on this planet is like that. The man chained is certainly not from here maybe he can get me out. However, he is looking at me like I am unreal so perhaps not.

If looks could kill Van Statten would certainly be dead from this man's fiery gaze, "You're not a collector you're a scavenger."

"This technology has been falling to earth for centuries I am simply just making use of it. Oh the advances I've made from alien junk you have no idea, Doctor," he grins but I quickly interrupt.

I gasp, "The Doctor! Has Gallifrey won the war! How are you here?"

Van Satten's grin turns to a full-blown smile, "First you make the Dalek talk now my longest surviving exhibit! You truly are something!"

"there- there is uh... a Dalek here," I whisper afraid to speak their name.

The Doctor looks at me eyes full of guilt and astonishment, he still looks at me as if I am not here.

"Thank you again Doctor so much for getting her to talk keep her talking for me why don't you? Since you all seem so scared of said Dalek, I think I will go back and try to have a word with it. I find fear is the best motivator to get people spending, " Van Statten is practically glowing with joy and I wish I could smack the joy right off.

The Doctor wrestles with his chains trying to break free, "You can't go in there with it! Now that it knows that I am here it will come looking for me! No one on this planet will be safe!"

His screams fill me with fear if I could throw up right now I would but they hardly ever feed me so there is nothing to throw up so I end up hyperventilating. Mr. Van Statten ends up shocking the Doctor and his angry words are replaced with painful screams.

I struggle against my chains screaming at the top of my lungs, "He tells the truth! You don't stand a chance against the Daleks! The war lasted centuries on Gallifrey here you will be lucky to last day!"

Van Statten looks at me in awe, "Wow full sentences maybe you will prove useful after all these years."

Nothing I say to this psychotic man will ever get into that thick skull of his, I would facepalm if my hands weren't shackled to the wall.

Alarms sound and angry red lights flash, my heart sinks, it's to late.

The Doctor's tone shifts from begging to demanding, "Release me if you want to live."

Van Statten quickly makes work of the chains holding the Doctor down and runs for the door.

The Doctor points to me, "Forgetting someone?"

Van Statten waves him off, "We haven't the time!"

"You need all the information you can get on Daleks, let her out now!" he shouts leaving no room for questions and Van Statten quickly does the command.

My legs feel like jelly as we run into the elevator I can't remember the last time I've walked unchained let alone run. I felt so out of place, especially in a ratty hospital gown.

"You have to keep it caged," he shouts to Van Statten's lackeys.

"Doctor it's all my fault," a blonde says apologetically on the screen.

A guard informs us that he has sealed off the exits and the lock as a million combos no way the thing's getting out. I shake my head at his idiocy I just hope this blonde girl is also a timelord, the more the better.

"Daleks are genius they can figure out a billion combinations in ten seconds flat." The Doctor informs.

The Dalek quickly figures out how to exit the moment I see it on the screen I cover my mouth in horror.

"Don't shoot I want it unharmed!" Van Statten shouts.

"Are you that dense! You would rather a whole planet die than lose a collection piece!" I shout at the man who held me captive for years and swing a punch at his face which earns me the pleasant crunch noise from his nose.

two guards pull me away from him as I smile for the first time in ages. The Doctor doesn't seem to notice the commotion shouting for the blonde whose name is apparently Rose to run.

I look back to the screen to see the Dalek destroying the screen connection. I feared the sucker would go right through the screen and appear before me like a Weeping Angel. I stumbled backward but the guards just tugged harder to keep me in place. I groaned in response to the uncomfortable position.

The Doctor's head whipped in the direction of the noise in high alert, "let her go! You are focused on the wrong alien here!"

The guards look to Van Statten for his approval, "She's got one hell of a right hook, I'll give her that... drop her.

The guards took this a little too literally and dropped me directly on my ass, as the others make their way to the computer.

"Oh my god, it's draining the whole power supply," the woman with us gasped.

"It's not just the energy it's the whole internet, it knows everything," The Doctor states.

"Cameras in the vault our down," the woman relays.

"It's going to absorb everything," I sigh

"We have to kill it now!" The Doctor shouts.

We watch soldiers die again and again through the surveillance cameras. It's Gallifrey all over again I can't escape it, but maybe I can help this time instead of running away.

"Tell them to stop shooting!" Van Statten says but I am seriously praying this is a very cruel joke.

"But it's killing them!" The woman shouted back.

"They're dispensable that Dalek is unique. I don't want a single scratch on it!" he shouts to the lifeless soldiers.

I clench my fists, "You are asking me to hurt you! You are putting lives over a killer," I shout getting in his face his guards instantly stand up preparing for me to strike him again which probably wasn't far off thinking.

"He's an idiot we need to focus," The Doctor interrupts and I return my gaze to the map as they discuss alien weapons.

"There has to be a way to keep it alive, maybe we trap it down there-"

The Doctor cuts him off, "Leaving everyone trapped with it? Rose is down there. I won't let that happen, have you got that?"

That seems to shut Van Statten up for once thank god.

"Who is Rose? Is she from Gallifrey? Did you two come here to stop the last Dalek? Does that mean Gallifrey is safe again?" I ramble many questions at once.

"Doesn't talk for years now you don't shut up," he glares at me like this whole situation is somehow my fault.

The Doctor frowns, "Leave her be Statten." He ignores my questions and tells them to arm all the soldiers with alien weapons it's the only way to beat it. Then he directs the soldiers on how to kill a Dalek always aim for the eye the soldiers shut him down.

"I can't help but think everyone on this planet is insanely dense," I sigh.

The doctor smirks, " There are some good humans out there, you wouldn't know being stuck here with these imbeciles."

Van Statten's glare burns into The Doctor I feel the heat of the glare just from the proximity.

"We have visuals again," the woman informs and all of our eyes dart to the computer.

"It wants us to see," The Doctor growled.

We all stare in shock as the Dalek uses the sprinklers to electrocute and kill all the soldiers at once.

"Perhaps we should consider a different strategy like abandoning the place," Van Statten nervously stumbles over his words. I had never seen him like this he always seemed confident when torturing me. If this were any other situation I would be overjoyed to see him like this. I wish I was the one to make him feel like this, not the Dalek.

The woman glares at him, "Except there's no power to the helipad, sir."

"You said we could seal the vault," The Doctor interrupts their glaring showdown.

"There's not enough power!" she shouts.

"There's emergency power we could redirect it to the bulkhead door," The Doctor defends.

"It would take a computer genius to get through the security codes!" The woman says frustrated.

"Good thing you got me," Mr. Van Statten smiles.

"You wanna help?" The Doctor asks shocked.

"No there is no way he wants to help! It is physically impossible he has no empathy. This has to be a trick!" I shout.

"It's not out of empathy, I don't want to die as simple as that. This could have been avoided if you talked in the first place. I would have known what it was capable of years ago." He shouts back at me.

The camera turns back on and the Dalek's voice fills the room, "I shall only speak to the doctor."

"You are gonna get rusty," he responds to the Dalek who still getting soaked by the sprinkler system.

"I don't think now is a great time for jokes Doctor," I whisper.

"I fed off the DNA of Rose Tyler. Extrapolating the biomass of a time-traveler regenerated me," the Dalek speaks.

"What's your next trick," the Doctor rolls his eyes.

"I have been searching for the Daleks," it responds.

"Yeah, I saw downloading the entire internet. What did you see?" He saunters around the table.

"I searched your radio signals and telescopes," it responds.

I anxiously pick at the scabs already forming from when I punched Satten. What will happen if this Dalek happens to find more Daleks? What if he isn't the last one.

The Doctor seems completely unphased, "and find anything?"

"Nothing, Where shall I get my order from now!" It screams loudly.

"Nothing but a solider without any commands," the Doctor teases.

I look at him in shock he can't possibly think it's a good thing to rile up at a Dalek more.

"Then I shall follow my primary order, the Dalek instinct to conquer and destroy," it responds.

"What for! What's the point!" The Doctor shouts his facade slipping. "Don't you see everything is gone, everything you stood for."

"Then what should I do?" The Dalek actually seemed to have an emotion other than hatred. Many emotions. I would have felt bad for it if not for all they have done against Gallifrey.

"Alright, then. If you want orders follow this one. Kill yourself," the doctor responds coldly.

I look up at him with wide eyes this is not the Doctor they spoke of on Gallifrey the mischievous one who was too smart for his own good. This Doctor was cold and harsh with his words.

"The Daleks must live on," the Dalek shouts in a familiar rage that all Daleks have.

"The Daleks have failed! Why don't you finish the job and make the Daleks extinct! Rid the universe of your filth! Why don't you just die, " The Doctor shouts back such cruel words that I am worried that the Dalek will retaliate immediately.

"You would make a good Dalek," it responds and I think I have officially heard the worst insult anyone could make toward a Gallifreyian.

I put my hand on the Doctor's arm, " I am so sorry."

The Doctor does not look at me he looks broken but yells to Statten, "Seal the vaults!"

"She's still down there," the woman whispers to the doctor.

He calls Rose on his phone to get updates on her location he cares so much about this Rose she has to be a Time Lady like me. I can't imagine the Doctor having much time to visit other planets after the war.

He relays to her that he can't stop the gate from closing she has to run. He waits as long as he can and apologizes before shutting the vault. He frantically asks if she made it but his face quickly sets into a deep frown.

He quickly pulls off his earpiece, "I killed her."

Van Statten says, "I'm sorry." I have never heard him say sorry before I haven't heard the word sorry in so long it sounds foreign.

"I was supposed to protect! She was only here because of me! And you're sorry? I could have killed that Dalek in its cell but you stopped me."

"It was the prize of my collection!" He defended.

I shook my head hard, "You valued your collection over life you are disgusting."

"Man goes to space to be part of something greater," the Doctor spits.

"Exactly! I wanted to touch the stars! That's why I kept her here!" he points to me. "If you think about it, it is all her fault none of this would have happened if she told me how her ship worked."

The Doctor shook his head, "You just wanted to drag the stars underground! Of course, she wouldn't talk you enslaved her and experimented on her! You are about as far from the stars as you can get!" His angry screams turned to sorrowful sighs, "And you took Rose down with you she was nineteen years old."

"She's so young can she not regenerate?" I ask sadly.

"She's human," he sighs.

I can't understand what a timelord is doing traveling with humans I understand now is not the time for questions.

The elevator doors open and the Doctor is quick to yell at the man for leaving his companion behind.

The monitor turns back on the Dalek holding its weapon to the back of the girl, "Open the vault or Rose Tyler dies."

The doctor gasps, "You're alive!"

"Can't get rid of me that easily," she teases.

"I thought you were dead," he shouts.

The Dalek interrupts, "Open the vault!"

"Don't" she begs.

"What use are emotions, if you will not save the woman you love," the Dalek states. Curious what does a Dalek know about love?

"I killed her once, I can't do it again," he states as he presses the button.

This is most certainly not the Doctor who was infamous in Gallifrey how long have I been missing. I hear Van Satten shouting but none of it really matters anymore. The Dalek will kill us and I have been missing so long that no one back home will know the difference. I am not going down without a fight. If my life didn't mean something hopefully my death can.

I adjust my posture to appear taller, "You collect all these dangerous aliens so where are your dangerous alien weapons?"

The woman shouts at me "All the weapons are in the vault!"

"Only the cataloged ones," Van Statten's employee smiles at me. I can't help the blush that appears on my face I can't remember the last time someone smiled at something I said.

The Doctor nods his head at me, "Good idea." He still looks at me like I'm a figment of his imagination and will disappear soon.

We left Van Statten and his assistant upstairs and went to the basement for weapons. The doctor tosses the weapons that are useless but finds a gun which relieves some of my anxiety.

"Stay here! I'll come back for you as soon as I handle the Dalek!" He demands

"You are out of your mind! I've been locked here for years and you're the first timelord I've seen here! If you think I am letting you fight a Dalek alone you're mental!" I shout back it feels strange screaming at anyone after refusing to speak for so long even weirder to scream at a war hero from my own planet.

He takes a deep breath trying to control his rage, "I don't have time for this! I can't have you dying while I am saving Rose!"

I shove him, hold my head high, and walk right by him, "I have more regenerations left than you old man."

He jogs to catch up to me, "No convincing you?"

"God you sound like my parents when I stole their Tardis," I groan as we jog up the stairs.

He smirks, "I stole a Tardis myself once."

"Now that's a story I have to hear," I grin wide.

"Another day," he sighs as we quietly enter the room with the Dalek and Rose.

The Doctor steps in front of me "Rose get out of the way now!"

"No, I won't let you do this," she frowns.

I stare wide-eyed at her she can't be saying this does she know of the war on Galifrey why wouldn't the Doctor have told her.

"That thing killed thousands of people!" He shouts.

"It's not the one pointing a gun at me," she snaps and I kind of want to throttle this girl.

"I've got to do this the Daleks destroyed my home! My people! I've got nothing left!" He shouts.

My head whips to face the Doctor, "What do you mean nothing." My voice shakes no matter how hard I try to remain calm. "We didn't win the war? How are you here then?"

I turn back to the Dalek, "Did they win?"

I stomp towards the Dalek and the doctor pleads with me to wait. Rose looks at me nervously I guess I can still look scary in a hospital gown and no weapon of my own. When she steps out of the way I freeze in my spot I've never seen a Dalek out of its exoskeleton.

"What is it doing?" This has to be a ploy, one they use to seem weaker then snap. Though a Dalek would never do that they need to feel superior or they are nothing.

"It's the sunlight that's all it wants," Rose defends the Dalek as it reaches its hand to the sun I back up. This is not normal behavior.

The Doctors' gaze follows, "But it can't..."

"It couldn't kill me or Van Statten it's changing!" Rose defends yet again. "And what about you Doctor what the hell are you changing into?"

I whip to Rose, "You have no right! You have no idea what these Daleks did to our home!"

"Our?" She questions.

"Why do we survive?" The Dalek asks. "I am the last of the Daleks."

"You're not even that, you absorbed Rose's DNA. You are mutating," the Doctor explains.

"Into what?" it responds.

"Something new," he replies.

I frown I am happy that there are no more Daleks but this is truly a Dalek's worst nightmare.

"I am sorry," The Doctor sighs.

"isn't that better?" Rose asks.

"Not for a Dalek," why am I feeling sorry for the Dalek they destroy everything it's their goal. I can't help but relate to it when we have been stuck in the same prison for years... I thought about burning this whole place down myself.

"So many ideas, so much darkness. Give me orders! Order me to die Rose," the Dalek says pained.

She shakes her head, "No I can't."

"This is not life! This is sickness. I shall not be like you. Order me to die. Obey! Obey! Obey!" The dalek screams and I can't help but step a few feet back the words reminding me of hearing the constant battlefield noises out my childhood window on Gallifrey.

"Do it," she says.

"Are you frightned Rose Tyler?"

"Yes"

"So am I, Exterminate." The Dalek floats up and prepares to self destruct as Rose and I run away from it.

I fall to the ground as I watch the Dalek explode all the adrenaline I once had fades out of me. I look up to the Doctor, "What do you mean you have no one?"

His pitiful gaze that he sent me when he first found out I was Timelord made sense now as he responds, There's no more Gallifrey... no more Daleks. The whole planet gone."

I can sob " I should have stayed home. I should have never ran away. If I stayed at least I would have gone with my family." I turn to the doctor but can barely see him through my tears. "Is there really no other Timelords?"

Rose quickly gets onto the floor and rubs my back, "hey you never know! The Doctor thought he was the only Timelord left but here you are! Plus you get to constantly prove the Doctor was wrong not many people get the oppurtunity."

I sniffle, "That's true, and I do love proving people wrong."

"There you go," she soothes. "We will get you a good cup of tea my Mum always says tea cure anything," She helps me to feet.

"You are really good at this comforting thing. Is she always this sweet?" I ask the Doctor.

The Doctor seems to have glossy eyes as well but hides his emotions well, "Yeah, that's why I keep her around."

"Hey!" she shoves him.

"The grief is very heavy right now but I am thankful to be surrounded by such light that could even turn a Dalek's cold heart warm.

[adejareve]

—Inexplicably, Command

A Rook Thorne story. Three prompts, three parts, one absolutely baffled Junior Warden just straight up not having a good time. Written for @rookappreciationweek, thank you so much for organizing, and with general Warden-related-flailing from @epiphany-jones as the best kind of encouragement.

Characters: Rook Thorne, Davrin, Varric, background team

Rating: T for language (girl’s got a mouth on her, it is what it is)

Words: 4,100

Also posted on AO3

Victory

Without planning for it, before everything, they all briefly splinter off to their people, one last time. Rook drifts, checking in. The Crows, the Mourn Watch, the Lords. The Jumpers, who’ve folded Neve and the barely held-back avalanche of her rage in right alongside theirs. It leaves the Wardens her final stop. Fitting, when she thinks about it. Whether it’s today or another, they always will be.

Davrin shifts aside to make a gap for her in the line that stands along the ridge they've gathered on, just outside the city walls. It’s everywhere, even from this distance: blight, curling up the walls, twisting towards the palace, a constant, pulsing, discordant note in the back of their minds, just beyond comprehension. They stretch out, shoulder to shoulder, and look.

A sea of darkspawn between them and where they need to go. There’s no seeing it from here, but it’s there. It’s shitty math that she doesn’t want to do, but her brain helpfully does it anyway. Thirty to one, if they’re lucky? Fifty? A hundred? She doesn’t even know if it matters, anymore. There will always be more darkspawn.

“Well,” Rook says, after a time. “It could be worse. We’ve got an open sky.”

She can’t quite see Evka, off to the left on Antoine’s other side, but Rook can hear her snort of a laugh. “Surfacers.”

Rook grins. She doesn’t feel it, but she grins. That’s supposed to be next next move, she’s pretty sure. Grin, make a joke, cast some bait, bleed off just enough pressure that everyone can suck a deep breath in against what’s left. She’s got nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Davrin watching her, but she can’t quite bring herself to turn and look back. She looks the other way.

Antoine. Little bit of Evka, beyond him. One step back to change the angle, to see more clearly down the line. Holden—Rook heard Mila was furious to be left behind, tried twice to sneak through in the crowd before he hauled her by the arm back through the eluvian. Beckett. Greta. Miriel. Leah. Landon. Too far to know for sure in the row of backs beyond that, blue and leather and steel all the way down. She turns the other way. Davrin, watching her too close. She can’t. Not now. Martin, past him. Iselle. Thea. Rodhri, Sawyer, attached at the hip as usual. Julius. And on. And on. Faces she can’t make out from this vantage but knows are here. Flynn, who should have stayed behind too, but wouldn’t. They didn’t sign up for this. Vesta and her team, beyond the walls, somewhere, if they’re still alive. A thousand years of faces they can't see, bodies under the rubble that used to be Weisshaupt, in the Deep Roads, in ashes on the pyre.

They’ve come up with a little under twenty names or so, between them, in the last few months—people who didn't answer the call to Weisshaupt and haven’t shown since. Maybe helping in the south, or just dead, she thinks, in her more charitable moods; done fighting a losing war, the rest of the time. Even if every one of them is alive, even if they were here, it’s under sixty, all told. Fewer than sixty Wardens left in the world against the blight come to finally swallow it, not even all on hand. And somehow, inexplicably, absurdly—she’s the one who’s supposed to tell them what to do next.

Rook doesn’t know what she’s doing. That’s the secret, not that it can be much of one, these days. She hasn’t known in a long time. The knowing bled out of her scalp and into the dirt next to Varric.

(Next to Varric’s body, not Varric, it wasn’t Varric anymore, and neither was the empty bed or the calloused hand that squeezed her fingers and her fault lines back together when they were getting a little too obvious, that was never him, Rook, wake up.)

She’s awake. Rook is wide awake now, for better or worse, and surrounded by people she trusts more than her own thoughts at the moment. Better than the other way around, she supposes. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but what they can do—she can’t trust her mind, but that she knows down to the bone.

She takes a breath. Pulls herself back to Davrin, who’s still waiting, patient, steady. The best of them.

The Fifth had worse odds, and that one turned out okay.

She returns his nod. Yup. Okay. She’s good, now.

Rook takes a few long steps back, clears her throat, pitches her voice to be heard. “You all know the plan, and what we’re up against. The mission comes first.” It has to. It has to. She tries not to think of the clusters of faces behind them, the names she knows and the ones she doesn’t. “Davrin and I gave as much of a rundown to the others as we could. Watch the teeth, watch the claws, wash the blood off fast, don’t touch anything red. That sort of stuff. But they don’t know darkspawn. Not like we do. Watch their backs, when you can. Stay on them.”

Evka gives her a level look and Rook’s throat feels tight. Bare bones, this last line against the blight, but the very best. “You worry about Solas and Elgar’nan,” she says, and nods ripple down on both sides, all the way to the ends. “No new recruits today. We’ll take care of your people, Rook.”

Rook swallows hard, considers the dirt she’s dug into with the toe of her boot. Yeah. They will. She knows they will.

She straightens up. “Well—in war, right? You all know the rest. Let’s show these assholes what that looks like.”

———

Vigilance

“In so-called peace,” Antoine had said. Funny guy. Usually something she likes about him.

It’s fine.

She takes point through the Crossroads, mostly because it means she has to pay the closest attention, so that’s a comfortable forty-five minutes or so she’s bought herself of not being able to get too much into her own head. And a couple packs of darkspawn do jump out along the way, which is considerate of them. The dock comes into view eventually, though. Maybe she should swing over to the Necropolis while she’s armored up. Seems like they’ve always got some weird shit going on, over there.

“Rook,” Davrin says, in the boat, and right away she just does not want to do this.

She looks at him, eyebrows raised, because obviously, they’re going to do it anyway.

“Look,” he starts, sounding a little more uncomfortable than she’s used to hearing from him. Here they go, then. “About what the First Warden said back there…”

“Guy’s a dick,” Taash mutters.

Rook snorts. One thing they can all agree on, at least. The guy sure is a dick. “It’s not new. I’ve been on his shit list for a long time. I probably should have told you that up front. Sorry.”

Davrin gives her an odd look. “Yeah, that’s not a secret.”

Great. “Right. Well. Don’t feel weird about heading in. I hope you’ll come back when they cut everybody lose but—it’s really fine. I don’t think he’ll hold any of this against you, based on what he said to Antoine and Evka.”

“What? No, I—” He stops as they dock, because Rook’s up from her seat and stepping out of the boat before it’s all the way still. Another excellent idea, it’s just a quick drop forever if she loses her footing, but she doesn’t, so, all good. “Hey. Hold on.”

“You’re leaving?” Taash demands.

“No, I’m not leaving. Rook, what the fuck?”

“You should,” she sighs, turning, hands on her hips. Really, it couldn’t have waited until they got back and didn’t have an audience for this? Fine, though. Right here, right now, in front of Taash. And the Caretaker, watching them with at least two of its eyes. Maybe three. It’s still hard to tell. “Seriously. You can come fill us in on whatever it is they’re doing out there after. Maybe find us a few more allies so we can get the heat off of Evka a little. But the only reason you didn’t get called in is because of me. We both know it.”

Taash looks between them like someone’s sprouted another head. “That’s vashedan! Nobody’s leaving.”

Davrin’s staring at her. “Yeah. It is. Rook, what is this? Since when do you care what the First Warden thinks?”

“I don’t. You do.”

“No, I—” he starts, but the stops, because yes, he does. Very, very obviously, he does. At least he has the decency not to lie to her about it. “He’s wrong. We both know he’s wrong, and anyone who comes across any of what we’re seeing is gonna know it too. He’ll come around.”

Rook swallows the sigh. “Sure. Guess we’ll see. In the meantime, though, I’m just saying. If you want to go, you should go. No one’s going to give you a hard time about it.”

And that’s just about enough of that. She turns, starts towards the eluvian, although not fast enough to miss Taash saying, low and fierce, “I will.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Davrin snaps back, not low at all. Rook keeps walking.

Up the stairs, as far as the eluvian. It’s tempting to just keep on walking through. Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain’s little away parties never make it this far; Rook isn't sure they can, or if the Caretaker holds them off. Guess they aren’t exactly catching a boat anytime soon. Still—not worth chancing it. She waits, leaning against the side, as they trail along after in a hushed half-argument she deliberately ignores, then follows them through.

She knows the steps, from there. She’s just gotta walk ‘em.

Armor off, cleaned. Self, cleaned. Tables where the missives from their allies appear from nowhere, empty. Lucanis and Neve are in the library when she gets back. They’re too deep into coffee and what looks like some of her case notes to pay Rook much attention, which she finds she doesn't mind one bit. Summon the smile, keep it moving, they’re good.

Taash’s room is empty. The infirmary is the next logical stop and she bypasses it anyway, wanders in to chat a while with Emmrich. All good there, too. Varric, then, who has gotten shockingly good at calling out her bullshit these days, even when she thinks she's got a pretty good lid on it, for once. All that time to look at the ceiling and think isn’t doing Rook any favors, clearly. He’s snoring away, though. A little luck. Lucanis does look up this time as she comes out and down the ramp, then Neve. They both give her odd looks, glance sideways at each other, then back. Rumor mill’s kicked off then, no surprise. Rook tosses off a little wave. Just doing the rounds, guys. All good.

Bellara, so engrossed in the current book club selection that she nearly falls off the cot when Rook clears her throat, but fine after she comes back down from the ceiling. Across the bridge to Harding’s greenhouse, where two sets of eyes turn towards her as she opens the door. Harding, instantly a little abashed looking, and Taash, who doesn’t do that emotion as personal policy, Rook’s pretty sure. Behold: the rumor mill in action. A rare find.

It leaves her stalling in the courtyard, watching a tower slowly spin by. One last stop. Might as well get it over with.

Davrin’s settled onto his stool when she walks in, placed just right to watch the door—which he is, obviously, even as he keeps at the figure he's shaving tiny slivers of wood from. Bereskarn, it looks like. Those suck. Worth a carving, for sure.

“Just checking in,” she tries, nice and easy. “All good? Need anything?”

“Not a chance, Rook.” His eyes track her into the room, over to where she leans back against the display case and winces. Ah, well. Worth a shot.

“You wanna tell me what that was all about?” he asks, when he seems suitably convinced she isn’t going to bolt.

“I did. There's no secret other meaning.”

He gives her a flat, unimpressed look. “You mad they didn't call you in?”

“No.”

A raised eyebrow, a brief flinch like something horrifying has occurred to him. “You, uh… sad about it? Or something?”

“No.” For absolute fuck’s sake. “I’m pissed we have to run around blind in the middle of a Blight like a pair of idiots because one jackass hates me. I'm tired of getting caught off guard. And I truly—please hear me when I say this, because I’m serious—I do not care if they haul me straight up to Weisshaupt and put me in front of a tribunal the minute this is over if it means we pulled it all off, but we have to get there first.”

Davrin’s hand’s gone soft, the whittling knife dangling loose from his fingers in the space between his legs. He’s leaned in, elbows on his knees, staring at her like he’s gonna find the catch if he looks hard enough. “You don't mean that.”

Rook sighs heavily. “Yeah, Davrin, I do. You and me, we are not the same. I’m not making command. Nobody’s giving me a griffon one day.”

“The griffon picks the—”

“I am good with that. Okay? But you, they might still talk to. Go in, kiss some ass, remind everyone they're very smart and important. Then you can come on back and tell me all about it.”

It’s quiet, for a minute, Davrin narrow eyed, his thumb worrying a rough spot on the wood as he considers that. “I’ll think it over,” he says, finally.

Yeah. She bets. “He’ll think it over,” she says to Assan, watching them with his head cocked sharply. Rook pushes off to go, nearly makes it to the door, and then just can't quite help herself from tossing the parting shot over her shoulder. “You’re awfully stubborn, you know that?”

The laugh that follows her out is sharp and more than a little sarcastic, but that’s fine. She said her piece, he can do what he wants with it. He outranks her, anyway. Not like she can make him. And there’s a solid four hours before dinner, which is more than enough time for the next crisis to come rolling in through the eluvian. No time to lose focus, now.

Sacrifice

“Stay over there and don't move,” Margis snaps at her, after the dust settles. The figurative dust, anyway. The actual dust is still drifting a little, making the air smell like dirt.

And then he waits, glowering, flushed. For her to argue, she guesses? She’s pretty much done with the arguing. Sure, she could keep going all night and still have plenty to say, but, really—what’s the point? She’ll just end up right where she is.

“Yup,” she sighs. And then, when those cheeks flush a little redder, remembers. Right. Gotta know your place. Real important stuff. Since it's apparently what he’s waiting for, she adds, through gritted back teeth, “Ser.”

At least it gets him to go away, off across the square to the Warden Constable he came in with and the orders he took back from her rolled up in one hand.

Jackass.

Rook goes over there, decides sitting on the steps of a small stone house is close enough within the parameters of “don’t move,” and does so. Her mageknife is coated with black, viscous blood. She digs a rag out of a pocket, tips out a bit of what’s left in her waterskin, and gets in to cleaning it before it starts to eat into the metal.

“Well,” a voice says not long after, off to the right somewhere, low and somehow laughing even though it isn’t. “Personally, I count any day I don't end up chewed on or clawed open a decent one, so thanks for the assist, kid.”

She looks. One of the villagers has wandered over. A dwarf, arms folded, looking at her with a broad smirk and slightly narrowed eyes. She saw him before in the small crowd that formed up behind them instead of fleeing to their homes, recognizes the crossbow more than the face, but it'd been hectic. And it is, really, an awfully nice crossbow for anything north of Hossberg.

“Not much of an assist,” she shrugs, and goes back to scrubbing at the blade. “Sorry about your town hall.”

That does get a chuckle. “I’m not from here, but it seemed pretty solid to me. I guess maybe a few of the locals could disagree, but from what I’m hearing… not many. Looks like it’s doing more good in the new spot than it was in the old one, anyway. Mind if I sit?”

“Sure.” If he wants. She doesn't think anyone else is gonna be fighting over the seat, tonight.

He settles slowly down beside her on the step with a groan she thinks might be at least a little for show; he was lethal with those bolts. She saw more than one hurlock down with one straight through an eye, after. “So,” he says, arms loose over his knees. His head is turned in the direction Margis stalked off towards, once the yelling stopped. “Seems like a whole lot of arguing over a pile of dead darkspawn, but I’ve been on the road for a while, what do I know. You all change the mission statement, recently?”

Rook laughs in spite of herself and her shitty mood, looks at the guy again sidelong. He seems like he’s still looking after Margis. She’s not so sure he is. “Guess so. I must have missed it, too.” Her knife is clean enough. It could use some oil, but that’s in her rucksack on the other side of the village, which means where the other Wardens have gathered, and she’s really not in the mood. She sheathes it.

“The five of us are all juniors. A raven came in with orders this morning. Senior Warden Margis—that’s my friend over there—wanted to get the lay of it personally and then decide what to do. We were supposed to hold at the mouth of the cave, keep ‘em penned in until he showed up to tell us to go ahead and kill them. Or something. I guess.”

“Just you five?” He lets out a low whistle, definitely watching her now. “No offense, you throw a mean fireball, kid, but you woulda been run through sooner or later with those kind of numbers.”

Rook can just about make out Margis from here. He’s turned away, deep in it with Constable, but the occasional sharp gesture in her general direction isn’t looking great. ‘In death,’ it goes, but ‘in politics’ is seeming like a pretty notable omission, these days.

“Sure would've, and everybody else pretty quick after,” she agrees, pausing a moment to beam a too-wide smile across the square when Margis does glance back over his shoulder at her. Even from here, she can see the scowl set in. (Still don’t know when to fucking quit, do you? Adrine would say. Nope. No, she does not.) “But orders, I have recently been reminded, are orders. Even when they're shitty ones.”

“But you’re not much for shitty orders, huh?”

“Not a strong reader,” she offers. “I thought it said don't sit around and wait to die horribly.”

The guy laughs again, and a grin tugs at the corner of her mouth even as she tries to fight it off. He shifts to face her outright. “Five of you, though. How come you're taking all the heat?”

She shrugs. “To the biggest mouth go the spoils? I’ve already got a bit of a reputation. Someone’s gotta go down for it, the rest of them are all still pretty clean. And it was mostly my idea, anyway, so. Fair’s fair.”

“Mostly yours, huh? How much is most?”

“Uh…the whole end part. And the middle bit.”

The guy props his elbow on his knee, side of his head against one fist, fixes her with a strange, squinty-eyed look. “Yeah? Who came up with the beginning?”

…screw it. What’s he gonna do, tell on her? “Also me.”

It really is a little weird, the way he’s studying her. Like he’s thinking real hard about something. From the corner of her eye, she can see Margis glaring at her again. The Constable’s looking too. That’s right everyone, have a gander: Thedas’ soon-to-be lowest ranking Warden. Maybe her new friend here is wondering whether whatever shit’s about to roll her way is catching.

“You ever been to Arlathan Forest?” he asks, all of a sudden.

She blinks. Unexpected turn, but okay. “No. The Anderfels or Tevinter, mostly. Swung over the border into Orlais once, very fancy.”

“I’m catching a ship out of Tallo in a few days, heading out that way to meet up with some friends. We've got a… kind of a project we’re working on. Interesting stuff, little dangerous. I’ll tell you all about it. We could use someone like you.”

Ah. He’s fucking with her. Alright, then. Passed the time at least. Rook leans back against the step behind her, weight on her elbows. “‘Insubordinate, reckless, and better fit for latrine duty’? Not sure you caught all that, before.”

“Yeah, I caught it.” Movement across the square; they both turn to look. Margis, headed their way. He looks back first. “Creative. Not afraid to do whatever it takes to get a job done. I’m serious, if you're interested. Heading off on your own, seeing where the road takes you, that’s kind of a thing for Wardens, isn’t it?”

Rook sighs and tips her head back to look up at the sky. It’s a nice night, now that the dust is finally clearing. She might as well enjoy the stars starting to come out while she can. Dungeon or Deep Roads, she has a feeling she won't be seeing too much more of them for a while. “Sure. Plenty of independence for those of us not about to get hauled off to Weisshaupt.”

“And if you weren't?”

She is, so it doesn't really matter, but Rook shrugs anyway. “If I wasn’t—yeah. Why not? Sure beats here.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.” The dwarf stands, just as baffling as he was when he showed up, pushing off against his knees with a ‘oomph’. “Andraste’s ass, I really am getting too old for days like this. Alright, give me a few, uh… shit, sorry, what’s your name?”

“Rook.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “For real?”

Rook sits back up, still skeptical. Nice man and all, but she doesn't think he’s talking Margis out of whatever has his face looking so smug as he draws near. “It’s a nickname. Pretty much everyone uses it, though.”

“Great! Saves me the hassle,” says the guy, bizarrely. “Alright, Rook, stay put a few. Margis, this guy, right?” She nods and he smiles, wide and charming, and turns to stroll towards the trouble barreling her way like he doesn't have a care in the world. “Warden Martin! Just the man I wanted to see. Varric Tethras—yeah, I know, I know, you read my book. Listen, I got a couple things I wanna talk to you about…”

Later—way, way later—when the village and Margis’ sputtering fury is at their back and the road towards Tallo stretches on ahead, Rook has questions. A lot of questions. Like, what the Inquisition is doing in the ass-end of the Anderfels, for one. Or, since when is the Inquisition still a thing, anyway? Or, would Varric mind very much repeating that part when he called Margis ‘overstuffed with shit’ just… one more time?

But mostly, the question that bounces around in her head until she can’t keep it in anymore is: “Not that I’m not grateful, but I still don’t really get it. Why me?”

Varric glances up at her, crossbow at his back, a look in his eye she can’t quite figure out and a smile that makes her smile back without even meaning to. “Couple breaks here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been at this for a real long time, kid. Too long, probably. I’ve learned some things. Most important? Trust your gut. And mine’s got a real good feeling about you.”

She swallows, and doesn’t quite know what to say to that, and shifts her eyes back to the road instead.

He’s got that tone when he speaks again, a laugh that isn’t, a grunt and a shift in her peripheral vision as he hoists his pack up a little higher. “So. We’ve got a long way to go, you and me. Let’s get you up to speed. Tell me… you ever hear any stories about the Dread Wolf?”

———

The Grey Warden Motto

In War, Victory

In Peace, Vigilance

In Death, Sacrifice

— Inexplicably, Command

(field annotation — author unknown)

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

https://www.tumblr.com/mokkamicci/708045503336775680/kataang-vs-zutara-a-small-chat

This accidentally came up on my dash so I thought I’d give it a read and you know what? They were so close - so gosh darn close - to making a couple of really good points, but they kept losing it. I was willing to hear them out, but they lost me when they started talking about Aang’s character traits.

Honestly, I think you're being too kind. I see someone who is not okay with harrassment, but that is perfectly happy living in an echo-chamber where the only thing that exists is their alternative version of Avatar in which Katara never liked Aang and he was terrible, and, more importantly, an alternative reality in which the poor zutarians are just "fighting back" against the evil Kataang fans by *checks notes* accusing them of pedophilia, rape apologism, racism, and misogyny for shipping Kataang instead of zutara, and thus using that as justification for doxxing and sending rape/death threats.

(Seriously, the dick sucking and constant "BUT I DO LOVE OUR OBVIOUSLY SUPERIOR SHIP" after the tiniest criticism is the biggest proof of the zutara fandom having some serious issues. Even zutarians are scared of speaking out against their so-called friends because they KNOW these fuckers are unstable and impossible to reason with).

Aang is a child that wants to have fun instead of fighting a war - a responsibility that he never asked for and has no way of rejecting. He feels trapped because he is, and that upsets him. That's his only "immaturity."

The most selfish we've seen him be was when he hid the map to their dad from Katara and Sokka, because he was afraid THEY were going to leave him - because they were the only 'family' he had left, and he was scared of being all alone. He still realized what he did was wrong and confessed. He wasn't caught, he decided, of his own free will, to tell the truth and suffer the consequences.

And I gotta laugh whenever Zutarians pretend AANG was the character that had trouble putting people's needs before his own, not their "perfect", beloved Zuko, who literally let his uncle go to prison just so he could be on Ozai's good graces again - Ozai is literally the ONLY person Zuko always put before himself, and that's why he ended up trapped in that abusive situation for so long: he was constantly distancing himself from people that could help, because they weren't saying what he wanted to hear.

The only thing that's funnier is their insistence that Kataang is one-sided despite plenty of evidence that Katara liked Aang back, meanwhile they insist zutara is canon when neither character was explicitly stated or implied to have feelings for the other.

So much for "Zutara fans criticise the Kataang ship with logic and facts." If that shit is logic and facts, I don't even wanna know what lies and nonsense would look like.

[kotemf]

Codywan week - day 3

I'm here with another story for the @codywanweek! The story sucks but whatever, all my stories do. You can read it on my Wattpad, Ao3, or here.

  Prompt: soulmate AU, after the war, take me instead / saving each other

It's been a year since the war ended. It took a while to settle everything, to sign the new contracts with the CIS, to get the clones a citizenship... The political situation in the Republic still wasn't ideal, but that was the senate's problem. Not the Jedi's. Not the clones'.

  Cody did his fair share of work when the clones were fighting for their freedom and for compensation for the years they fought for the Republic with no payment. Needless to say, Obi-Wan was there every step of the way, as a moral support for Cody and a huge help for all of the clones. While the Jedi as whole didn't join the political process, many Jedi decided to help where they could, as well as a few senators. In the end, they made it somewhat work. The clones got a citizenship and a bit of money, it was a win even if the money barely bought them food for a few weeks.

  After being recognized as citizens, the clones started exploring the joys of life. Actual life, not just surviving battles. They were now free to study, find their dream job, travel, build a home, find a significant other if they weren't lucky like Cody and didn't find their soulmate in their Jedi general.

  Cody could have traveled across the galaxy and explore just like Rex did. He could've joined Boil in his efforts to help war orphans. He could've joined Fox's Coruscant guard or just stay in the army and help hunt down the little that was left of the CIS army. He did neither. He remained by his general's side. Well, Obi-Wan was no longer a general, no longer his commanding officer, so Cody could publicly call him his husband. Yes, husband. They got married according to some ancient Jedi tradition because the force recognized them as soulmates. Apparently, Jedi could marry, master Yoda was just a jealous old prick and decided not to tell anyone. When general - master, Cody reminded himself - Nu found out that Yoda was secretly keeping texts about force bonding traditions, she got so mad with the old troll Obi-Wan felt the echo of it in the force being on the other side of the galaxy.

  After they got married in the Jedi temple on Coruscant, they moved to Tatooine. The Jedi council wanted someone there to monitor the Hutts and prepare Tatooine so they could later free the system from the Hutts. Obi-Wan was reluctant to accept the job, he said Cody deserved better than to move to a hostile desert planet because of Obi-Wan's assignment, but Cody encouraged his Jedi to take the job. He didn't mind living on Tatooine as long as Obi-Wan was happy and by his side.

  The Jedi order chose a house in the wasteland, a few kilometers away from Mos Espa. Cody underestimated just how annoying sand can be, it would be just about the first thing him and Skywalker could agree on, and how much he was going to hate how silent it got at night. Cody grew up among millions of brothers. He missed the constant noise of so many people living together. He missed his brothers. Not that he would tell that to Obi-Wan, the Jedi might take it as not being enough for Cody or something like that. He did, however, ask his husband what he thought about visitors shortly after they moved in and after Obi-Wan told him that he didn't mind Cody's brothers visiting, Cody often invited a brother or two to stay with them for a few days. The last one was Crys but he left the day before. Cody was all alone again, waiting for Obi-Wan to come back from work.

  He heard someone opening the door. That was odd. Obi-Wan wasn't supposed to be back for another hour and half. Maybe he left work earlier? But that didn't make sense, Obi-Wan worked at a meat factory - a waste of his talent, really, but the Jedi council told him to keep a low profile - and his work hours were strict, unlike Cody's. Cody decided to use his experience in fixing ships and got employed by a young woman who led a repair shop. If there was nothing more to fix, he could leave earlier.

  Cody was sure about two things. First, the person opening the door wasn't Obi-Wan. Second, he should get his blaster ready. It was a good thing that he never really got used to not carrying his weapon. Quietly, he pulled out his blaster from where it was hidden under his loose tunic and turned the safety off. 

  Cody did not expect his blaster to be ripped out of his hand with the force. He most certainly didn't expect Darth fucking Maul to walk into the living room. He thought commander Tano captured him on Mandalore and he's been held in the Jedi temple's prison ever since. He must've broken out. This was probably not going to be the romantic, quiet evening Cody imagined having with Obi-Wan.

  "I was expecting Kenobi. Why are you here?" the Sith asked quietly, more to himself than anything. Cody would answer him but Maul apparently thought it a good idea to start force choking him.

  Cody blacked out.

  Cody didn't know how much time passed when he woke up. He guessed not much, because when he carefully opened his eyes, Maul was comfortably sprawled on their couch, looking bored. So Obi-Wan wasn't there yet.

  Maul definitely knew Cody was awake, Cody knew how the force worked, but didn't seem all that concerned about it. Cody's hands and legs were tied and Maul would notice if Cody started untying himself.

  There was something Maul didn't know, though. He didn't know that Cody and Obi-Wan were soulmates, that they shared a force bond. He didn't know that Cody, despite being a force null, could warn Obi-Wan through the force. He just had to close his eyes, focus, focus on their bond, focus on the feeling of his cyare, just like Obi-Wan taught him. And then imagine Maul, sitting on their couch, and pushing that image through their bond.

  Cody struggled to center himself and find their bond. Imagining Maul as clearly as he could, he finally sent the image through the force bond. It didn't occur to him that Maul would feel it in the force, that he let his shields down in favor of focusing on Obi-Wan, that he was projecting in the force.

  Needless to say, Maul didn't waste any time being confused, even if he probably was. He just knocked Cody out with a force suggestion. Cody's last thought before blacking out again belonged to his husband. He hoped Obi-Wan got his message.

  The next time Cody woke up, it wasn't to a silent living room, filled with just his pounding headache and Mauls sneaky presence. He woke up to voices. Voices, plural. One of Maul and one of... Obi-Wan. Did the Jedi not get the warning?

  "-will go with you if you let the clone go." Cody heard Obi-Wan saying. He only now registered the red lightsaber hovering disconcertingly close to his face. Maul didn't look like putting it away.

  "Oh, no... I will cause you the pain you caused to me," Maul answered. What the actual- right, Obi-Wan cut off Maul's legs over a decade ago and Maul still hasn't gotten over it. "I will kill every single one of your loved ones."

  "This isn't about him, Maul. You are after me, not Cody. Take me. I promise I will go with you if you let Cody go."

  "Obi-Wan-" Cody didn't get to finish that sentence. Didn't get to say that his life didn't matter, that he loved Obi-Wan so much and that Obi-Wan should just save himself. Maul swung the lightsaber at him.

  Cody couldn't fully register what was happening, he just saw Maul fly away in the last possible moment - thrown by the force, his mind supplied - and then rapid movements of both Maul and Obi-Wan as the red and blue lightsaber clashed together.

  Then Maul's head fell off.

  Then there was Obi-Wan crouching next to Cody, shielding him from the view of Maul's dead body - completely useless in Cody's opinion, he was a soldier, he's seen quite a few dead bodies.

  "Hey," Obi-Wan spoke gently. "I'm so sorry for this, my dear. This was never supposed to happen, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

  "It's fine."

  "It's not fine, Cody. You almost got killed because of me and my history with Maul. Are you okay?"

  "I almost got my windpipe crushed but other than that... I'm good. Good enough to clean the living room."

  "I will take care of that," Obi-Wan promised. He knew damn well that Cody didn't want the carpet dirty and a fight with a Sith lord was definitely not a valid excuse for walking inside in dirty shoes. "Let me patch you up first."

  "I'm fine, Obi-Wan," Cody rolled his eyes. He was fine. He's survived worse.

  "No, you are not," Obi-Wan argued. His gaze softened as he pulled Cody into a short keldabe kiss. "Just let me take care of you, love."

  Who was Cody to deny Obi-Wan this when he was asking so nicely?

[medlarmeadows]

httyd au but angelstone. rumi is this super strong and skilled dragonrider, riding a brilliantly white nightwing named sunny, while peter is at the bottom of the ranks with his small brown dragon named lizard. everyone adores and looks up to rumi, while peter is ignored and nobody ever wants to partner with him for patrols. he has a tendency to chicken out when facing foes, leaving behind his teammates to face them alone (he never admits its because everybody would say he sucked at the job, never admits that the constant condescension brings down his own belief in himself).

(more under the cut!)

one day, their people face a new war with another clan of dragonriders. when choosing partners, rumi unexpectedly chooses peter. everyone's shocked, some people saying "rumi are you sure? he's deadweight." but rumi stands firm in their decision. when peter asks them why later on, all rumi gives is a cryptic "we were meant to be together, peter sqloint."

flash forward and they're actually such a great duo!!! during fights, peter is tempted to turn tail and flee, but rumi is always there with encouraging words and he's standing his ground (in the air) and continues fighting alongside rumi. everybody around winders how this nobody is suddenly excelling. and despite everything, there are still people who look down on peter, crediting his improvement to rumi alone and never acknowledging the potential peter always had inside him. all it needed was a spark

then comes a huge battle with the leader from the opposing dragonriders. you know that scene in httyd 1 where everyone thinks hiccup dies? yeah THAT. rumi and peter are fighting tooth and nail against the huge dragon that the other leader is riding. rumi gets a lucky shot, tossing the leadee off his dragon. but the enraged dragon retaliates, breathing fire against them. all of a sudden there's a loud "RUMIII", and peter is in front of them. lizard's tail knocks sunny enough to spin both sunny and rumi out of the line of fire. all rumi can do is scream for peter as they see him disappesr behind bright orange flames

rumi was angry. no, they were more than angry. they wanted vengeance. peter, sweet peter. kind and compassionate peter who saw the goodness in the world despite never receiving kindness from it. peter sqloint did not deserve to die. rumi felt a hollowing in their chest, an anguish they didn't think they would've felt months ago had they not fallen in love with peter as they had fought side by side

peter would be avenged

rumi attacks like a wraith, charging with sunny as though they were one being and not two. together, they take down the dragon and make sure that the leader was dead before descending down to the burning remains of the battlefield below to find peter.

they don't see peter first. instead, they see a brown dragon curled in on itself. rumi slowly coaxes lizard to relax, and they see peter. he's unconscious, cuts littering his face and all around his body. his leather armour is torn in several places.

rumi isn't sure he would wake up.

but somehow, he does.

and as life returned to peter, rumi felt life return to themself too. because peter was awake. peter was alive.

there's major celebrations in their island and for once, the people are acknowledging - are celebratin - peter's heroism during the final battle.

and as the celebrations die down, rumi steals peter away from the crowd to speak. and i think you can imagine what happens from then on ;)

also thanatos i guess is one of the stoic other dragonriders they always bump into who develops a soft fondness for them despite coming off as no-nonsense at first. he's the undercover wingman/cupid as somehow he ends up in the middle with both rumi and peter coming to him about their feelings for the other person (thanatos just wants to fight people damnit)

[mayajadewrites]

ghostin

chapter two: year one

read chapter one here

this chapter is short, but we're going by years. so this chapter is year one after the blip. next one is year two.

Year One

Every day feels like a war inside your mind. Constantly trying to figure out why this happened, why so many people had to perish. Why is the world so cruel?

Just when you let yourself jump and fall in love, let your walls down, bring your emotions and baggage to the forefront, he disappears. 

New York is in disarray after the blip. Wilson Fisk has taken the position of mayor for the time being, which Matthew would hate. He would also hate who you are right now. You took a job under Fisk to take out any of his enemies and make sure the city is set for him to take over. Your nights are filled with fighting and watching people you've never met lose their soul to Fisk's wants. 

Every night you return to Matt's apartment, running your hand over his side of the bed. His smell is almost gone from the sheets. The coffee stain is still on the floor along with the pieces of the cup. You refused to pick it up or disturb the pieces. 

The world's heroes, 'The Avengers' haven't done shit about the blip. From what you heard when you were perched on a rooftop, a monster named Thanos initiated the blip and got rid of half of the universe. You watch Steve Rogers constantly try to reassure the city that they will fix this. 

"Tch." You suck your teeth as you watch Captain America try to console New Yorkers. "You will never understand what we're feeling." You turn your head, trying to reverse the tears that are flowing out of your eye. Sometimes you feel like this is all a cruel nightmare and that Matt will come back any moment. 

Every morning is torture. His touch, his smell, his voice, everything is gone. You think about his laugh every single day to make sure you don't forget the beautiful sound. You can't bring yourself to sleep anywhere other than his bed. 

You try to put up a facade that everything is okay. That you're okay. Foggy calls you every now and then, checking in on you. If it wasn't for him, no one else would.

"Hey, Fog." You press the phone to your shoulder.

"It's been exactly a year since the blip." Foggy's voice was shakey. "I thought they would've fixed this by now." 

You shake your head. The hope Foggy has in the Avengers is admirable, but you are quite pessimistic about the whole thing. "Tony Stark has gone into hiding basically with his wife, and he's the smarts of that team. I don't know."

"Damnit Stark." Foggy says. "How are you, though?"

"You know the answer to that." You look down at your black combat boots as the New York wind flows through your hair. "I'm the same as I was when I watched Matt evaporate."

"Hey, it's gonna work out." Foggy tried to reassure you. "I believe theres still good in this world." 

"I admire you for that, Foggy. But right now every day feels like constant torture without him."

Foggy doesn't know you're working for Fisk. He thinks you're taking odd jobs to keep yourself afloat. He would be so disappointed in you and say Matt would hate what you're doing.

Matt would.

But Matt's not here.

No one is here.

[quibble-auk]

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

I promised fluff and here it is. I know it was ages ago when you asked me why I drew Dropmix without the visor in my little doodle thing, and I finally get around to explaining it. Look at me go! He doesn’t need it all the time anymore.

Help. I suck at writing fluff.

Dropmix finally lets himself heal.

—

It was quiet in the medical bay, as quiet as it ever could be at least. Music still thrummed quietly in the background, lulling and soft. The lack of patients and general chaos seemed to reflect on the war itself.

Things had gotten quieter on Cybertron since the main fronts had moved off-world. Optimus and most of the head officers had boarded the Ark in search of more energy, with Megatron and his troops following closely behind. While there was still fighting on their homeworld, it had slowed down. With resources depleted and contact with the leaders delayed, conflicts had gone from raging battles that left hundreds—if not thousands—dead or wounded to border skirmishes and raids.

It was far from peaceful, but it was quieter than before. It gave the mechs that had been left behind a much needed moment to breathe and grieve over those lost. After millions of years at war, an end to the violence actually seemed feasible. It allowed Jeopardy and other medical officers a moment to step back and relax from the constant influx of wounded.

Jeopardy smiled softly as he looked from the datapad in his hand to the resting form of Dropmix. The large medic breathed deeply and slowly, his form unmoving on the medical berth. He looked peaceful and content. His frame relaxed more than usual, he had taken off some of the larger pieces of armor at Jeopardy’s request. It didn’t really affect the surgery at all, but they both knew he’d be more comfortable if he at least took some of it off. Jeopardy’s smile grew as he watched over the other.

It had been a simple operation, but it had been one long overdue. For years Jeopardy had been offering to help replace his mentor’s missing optic, to officially close that wound. Every time he had mentioned it, Dropmix had declined, dismissing it. Jeopardy never pressed, he didn’t need to, not really. He could see the way the other’s voice grew tight with grief and guilt. He could recognize the look in his remaining eye.

Whatever it was, it was a reminder for Dropmix, something he couldn’t let go of. A punishment to himself for something that he deserved to move on from. Jeopardy never nagged him about it, just reminded the other that when he was ready, all he would need to do was ask and Jeopardy would be there. There was no point in trying to rush the other, he was too stubborn to give in to nagging and even if he did, it wouldn’t have meant anything. He would be doing it to get Jeopardy off of his back instead of finally allowing himself to heal.

The medic had been overjoyed when Dropmix had approached him earlier in the week, ready to finally get it replaced. He had barely been able to contain himself, masking his excitement with a reserved smile and professional agreement. He knew that Dropmix had seen through it—the reserved smile, the professional tone—by the way his gaze had softened.

Dropmix shifted in the berth slightly, drawing Jeopardy’s attention back to the present. The gladiator was stirring. The medic looked down at the datapad in his hand dismissively, he was in the middle of writing a message for Comet—his friend had gone with the twins to the new front, Earth. He had been sending messages out to the other for some time, occasionally getting a short response. He didn’t mind, the other was busy and never had been good at sending messages anyway.

This week's review could wait—Dropmix was waking. Jeopardy leaned over and placed the datapad carefully to the side. His attention shifted to the larger mech as he moved again, a small grumble escaping him as he woke. The gladiator lazily stretched—still clearly dealing with the after effects of the sedatives—and rolled over. Jeopardy flinched as Dropmix fell to the ground off of the small berth, a small yelp escaping the other as they crashed into the ground.

He shot to his feet, looking over the mech on the ground. His hands hovered, unsure of what to do. “Slag! Dropmix are you–”

Jeopardy didn’t finish, he blinked down at his mentor. The berth wasn’t exactly high off the ground, but Jeopardy still winced at the heavy thud of Dropmix’s frame hitting the floor. He barely even reacted—just grumbled, stretched out, and made himself comfortable. Dropmix softly chuffed at him. His remaining eye, the one not replaced, cracked open lazily. Jeopardy fought against the urge to snort, grinning down at the other. Any concern replaced with fond amusement, “Comfy?”

Dropmix furrowed his brows at the other, disoriented no doubt, as he struggled to make sense of Jeopardy’s words. After a second he seemingly gave up with a huff, his eyes closing again. He started talking in an ancient Koanite language—one that Jeopardy had heard him muttering in a few times previously—his voice deep and words slurred.

The white and red mech shook his head, still smiling fondly. It was rare for him to see the other like this, relaxed and unguarded. He laughed gently, “I don’t know what you're saying, but alright.”

Obviously, Jeopardy must have agreed to something without realizing it. Dropmix reached for him with a large hand, gently grabbing one of the other’s still outreached wrists and tugging him down onto the floor with him. “Hey, wait–”

Jeopardy was pulled to the ground, falling ungracefully on top of the other. Jeopardy cringed away, concern rising again as he feared he might have hurt Dropmix. The mech in question reacted like he had to everything since waking up, he didn’t. He grumbled again as he reoriented himself around Jeopardy, pulling the smaller mech to his chest. His large arms wrapped protectively around the other and he gently nuzzled his forehead against the other’s head.

The gladiator settled, leaning against the white mech.

“Dropmix...” Jeopardy murmured, feeling a brief wave of panic before he simply gave into the quiet warmth of the embrace. It was rare, this kind of unguarded affection. It was a reminder of how deeply the older medic cared, even if he didn’t always show it.

Jeopardy blinked a few times before laughing quietly. He sighed and shifted slightly to get into a more comfortable position himself. There would be no easy way for him to escape the other’s grasp, and it wasn’t like he really minded. No one actively needed the two for anything, he could lay on the floor for a bit until Dropmix finally became aware enough to release him.

The gladiator muttered something else as Jeopardy leaned into the other’s warmth, once again in a language that Jeopardy wasn’t familiar with. He found himself simply enjoying the quiet moment, the gentle pressure of Dropmix’s arms around him, knowing that the world outside could wait a little longer. The music still hummed gently to them, soothing and relaxing. Jeopardy let himself close his eyes, drifting into a place between sleep and awareness for a while.

The deep gravelly voice of Dropmix pulled him out of it, still slurred and groggy but still a little bit clearer. His voice rumbled as he pressed his chin against Jeopardy’s head, “Mmnn…Jeo..?”

“Yeah, Dropmix?” Jeopardy murmured, lifting his head and opening his eyes. It took a moment for him to fully bring himself into awareness again, sighing deeply as he felt the warm presence of his mentor. Dropmix’s large hand tightened slightly around Jeopardy, pulling him in closer, like an instinctive gesture of comfort.

Dropmix chuffed gently, eyes still closed, before something in his posture shifted. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything—just the soft pressure of his hand, tightening slightly around Jeopardy. As if he had simply been confirming who it was he was holding. When he did speak his voice was thick with emotion, “Thank you.”

Jeopardy blinked, taken aback by the simplicity and weight of Dropmix's words. He hadn’t expected this—certainly not now. The medic tilted his head, trying to focus on Dropmix, who still seemed half-dazed and fighting the remnants of the sedatives. But there was something in his voice, a soft edge of vulnerability that Jeopardy wasn’t used to hearing. Something deep and personal.

He couldn’t help the confusion that washed over him, “Thank you?” Jeopardy repeated, his voice softer than usual, “You… You don’t need to thank me for anything.”

The gladiator grumbled at his response, moving his cheek to press against the back of Jeopardy’s head. It took a moment for him to speak again, a gruff fondness in his voice, though his weary and groggy tone remained, “You’re just like him… I ever told you that? Yeah… You're just like him sometimes…”

He let out a dramatic and exasperated sigh, “Just… accept the damn gratitude or something.”

It took a moment for Jeopardy to sort out what was happening exactly. Dropmix was still under the effect of the sedatives and medications from the surgery. He was mindlessly rambling to him. Jeopardy couldn’t help the small smile from forming on his lips. It meant something to know that Dropmix was content and unguarded enough with him, even if drugs may have played a minor role in it all, to mindlessly ramble to him.

He may not fully understand who or what he was talking about, but Jeopardy wasn’t going to disagree with him.

Jeopardy leaned back into him, closing his eyes gently again. He took a deep breath, letting himself settle, the floor was far from comfortable but he was happy to be with his mentor. “Okay then, you're welcome.”

Dropmix huffed lightly in response. He went quiet for a few moments more, basking in the warmth of the other in his hold. Then he spoke again, tone still gruff, “Good… See? Wasn’t too hard.”

The medic couldn’t stifle the small chuckle that escaped him, earning a small grumble from Dropmix. He shifted slightly, nestling further into the older medic’s protective embrace. “I’m glad you think so,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and tender.

“Primus,” Dropmix began, fondness seeping into his gruff tone, he shook his head as he pressed it into Jeopardy’s more. He spoke again, slipping into that language that the younger didn’t understand.

Jeopardy smiled softly, though it was laced with a bit of melancholy. He still didn’t know what Dropmix was saying, but the words were calming in their familiarity. There was something oddly comforting about the rhythm of the older mech’s voice, even when he didn’t understand the meaning behind it. It didn’t stop himself from wishing he could have understood though. It was becoming more clear that this was his mentor’s native dialect, it was almost sad how Jeopardy hadn’t realized that until now.

It just served as a reminder that there was still so much he didn’t know about Dropmix.

“Mind repeating that last part for me?” Jeopardy asked gently, trying not to linger on the more solemn thoughts and instead on the moment with the other.

Dropmix chuckled lightly, humming lightly, “It’s nothing… you're just… just…”

He trailed off, grip tightening on Jeopardy as he pulled him closed, nuzzling into him more. He chuffed quietly as he let out a deep shaky sigh, emotions brewing. Dropmix struggled to find the words for a few minutes, going between loosening his grip and tightening it as he contemplated. Finally his voice returned, soft and tired, “You’re you.”

Jeopardy was still for a moment, the weight of Dropmix’s words settling in. There was something in the way the larger medic spoke, something so raw and vulnerable despite the exhaustion in his voice. It made Jeopardy feel both humbled and touched, but it also tugged at something deep within him. Words failed to come to him, he just leaned back, gently pressing his head against Dropmix’s head, returning the pressure.

Dropmix’s arms tightened once more, the gesture soft, almost reluctant. The larger medic remained quiet for a while, as if trying to understand his own emotions before speaking again. His voice was quieter this time, almost a whisper, “You… You remind me of things I lost… of someone. But…”

The large mech huffed again, a deep rumble in his chest for a moment, “But you're still you… You’re not him… Yeah… Yeah, you're something else.”

The quiet moment between Jeopardy and Dropmix lingered, like a soft, fragile thread connecting them. Jeopardy listened to the deep rumblings of Dropmix’s voice, feeling the warmth and weight of his embrace. It wasn’t often that he saw his mentor this unguarded—this raw. The older mech’s words, though half-coherent and laced with sedatives, carried an undeniable weight. Then he spoke again.

“I’m grateful for that… for you.” Dropmix’s voice was deep and weary, sleep once again slurring the words as he was tugged off into unconsciousness.

Jeopardy stayed still in the quiet room, feeling the warmth of Dropmix's embrace, his frame gently held by the larger mech. The older medic's words, though muddled by sedation, had hit him harder than he expected. They weren’t the typical gruff words of a hardened, brutally honest gladiator or the playful teasing that defined most of their relationship. They were vulnerable, raw in a way that made Jeopardy’s chest tighten, his own thoughts swirling.

He stayed close, eyes closed again, the hum of the soft background music mingling with the gentle sound of Dropmix's breathing. The medical bay felt almost sacred in its calm, as if the world outside was momentarily forgotten. It was a rare moment of peace, and Jeopardy could feel it, deep in his spark.

[heartofspells]

Tell me things about Sirius and Benjy! (If they aren't spoilers for your fic, lol.) What's their first date like? Who asks who out first? What's Sirius's favorite thing about Benjy? What does Benjy like best about Sirius? I want to know everything!

Ahhh! I will tell you everything! The brain rot is strong, and it's starting to rot the rest of my body.

We're going to start at the beginning. I don't think they like each other all that much from the start when they first meet after Sirius joins the Order. Benjy's older (31) and he's been at this building war for a while, and Sirius is a wide-eyed, wet behind the ears, too eager 19 year old itching to prove himself as more than the outcast Black on the wrong side of the war from the rest of his family. Virtually a kid, can you imagine?

Benjy is a kinder soul, so he doesn't say much about it, just avoids Sirius and the newer recruits (mostly Sirius and James, two peas in a snug little pod and way too similar). Sirius barely acknowledges Benjy's existence because they don't have much in common, do they? Benjy is an old man, brittle and stagnant. He's boring. He plays by the rules and follows orders, but Sirius starts to show obvious disdain the first time they're paired up for an assignment and Benjy talks about all his Old Man Points of Life Wisdom.

Then they get paired together more often a bit later in the war. Sirius realizes that Benjy isn't so bad after all. He's funny. He's mischievous. And yeah, maybe he's got a nice smile.

And of course Sirius is attractive. Anyone with eyes can see that clearly, but Benjy doesn't pay much attention to looks (lies). It's Sirius' laugh that hooks him. The way he talks about his friends like they're the most important things in the universe. It's his relish and fire for life, for that constant step forward, always seeking more, sucking the marrow out of each day.

Realizing they're maybe not so far off from one another, they make plans to see one another outside of Order activities, and that's wonderful. It's lovely. Except for one crucial detail.

Benjy asks Sirius to meet him at a Muggle pub for a drink and a chat, maybe a bit of food. Brilliant! They're halfway through before Benjy makes a comment and Sirius understands. It's a date. He's never been on an honest to god date before. He doesn't want to date, has no interest in it. Dating is for people like James, not people like Sirius who's already moved ten spaces ahead before his finished with the move he's making now. Dating is for people that aren't in the middle of fighting a war. It's for people who see a future beyond the war (though of course his view does a complete 180 after Harry is born, that bright little sunbeam of the future held in Sirius' arms).

Sirius Black does not date, but he'd very much like to keep meeting Benjy at this pub. He'd like to meet him at other pubs and maybe pick him up at his door to take him to a pub, and also possibly the zoo because they both have a fantastic fascination with animals and creatures, and maybe they should go to one of those Muggle theme parks Lily keeps talking about because they sound thrilling, and he'd also very much like to get Benjy inside his flat and show him how he's mastered the usage of the strange thing called a microwave and -

(Benjy says yes to all of it)

[sepublic]

I’ve heard Meta Kraid was never finalized in Metroid Prime because translating the 2D mechanics of his boss fight into 3D gameplay proved too difficult. Even so, I do hope we get to see Meta Kraid again in Beyond; With Retro having either figured it out, or just embracing a different strategy entirely in response to Kraid being 3D. It helps that Beyond is being made under the direct opposite of a crunch, unlike Prime!

Something interesting about how Kraid fights is that he’s essentially a walking, living weapons platform; He hurls nails, shoots spikes and parasites, splashes acid, and vomits up fireballs and rocks at enemies. It’s only in Dread that we actually see him use melee attacks, and it’s worth noting that his arms are long and gangly, which could be why he doesn’t normally rely on them; That and the restraints of course, since Mercury Steam must’ve thought it made no sense for Kraid not to use his arms, and/or throw his entire weight onto a cornered Samus. So they created a Doylist explanation for this limit.

The way Kraid fights reminds me of an AT-AT from Star Wars that way; A moving, towering turret with high invulnerability. Moving isn’t the main priority, but the fact that it can makes it easy to transport and deadly. So I can imagine a Meta Kraid boss fight working this way;

Samus fights Meta Kraid, who hurls nails that arc towards her position. She can destroy these within a couple shots. Similarly, Kraid regurgitates fireballs and rocks that rain on Samus from above, which she needs to move out of the way of. There are three holes in Kraid’s belly, which can shoot out highly-damaging spike missiles (also capable of being destroyed), as well as parasites that home in on Samus, and poison with a splash radius.

The whole time, Kraid is lumbering towards Samus, and if you’re too close each stomp will release a damaging shockwave; Sometimes Kraid does a big stomp that shakes the whole floor so powerfully that Samus needs to jump when it does, something like that. If Kraid gets too close, he does damage on contact, and can back you up against a wall where it’s harder to dodge his attacks.

Maybe he can even charge at you for devastating damage before rebounding off; Otherwise it’ll suck to be trapped between Kraid and a wall. Then he tries walking into you again, turning around as he pushes Samus along the walls of the arena. It’s a constant game of backing Samus into a corner, as she maneuvers around Kraid, who then turns around and aims for the other side of the arena behind Samus all over again.

Maybe Beyond could incorporate Dread’s mechanic of morphballing into Kraid’s orifice and dropping bombs to injure him; Instead of this being a quick-kill tactic only accessible through sequence breaking, it might be required to defeat Kraid because he’ll bend over in agony. At which point, his eye plating is within grapple beam range; Tear it off and damage Kraid’s eyes to make him scream, then fire missiles into his throat.

Kraid straightens up, the angle from below making it impossible to shoot missiles into his mouth. You have to wait for his orifice to be empty to try bombs again, which won’t always happen since Kraid often refills it immediately with a spike and waits to fire it. Maybe there could also be a mechanic of damaging stalactites on the cave roof above to drop them into Kraid’s head, knocking him down, and/or preemptively destroying his eye plating so you don’t have to tear it off with the grapple beam. But this could be a secret option to replace the morph ball bombs.

And/or, after losing his eye plating, Kraid will sometimes shoot three spike missiles as he turns around, one from each orifice; This conveniently creates stairs for Samus to climb, which she can use to find the right angle to fire missiles into Kraid’s mouth. After taking damage, Kraid will charge at Samus and she has to dodge as he rams into the wall, shattering the spike stairs and forcing a repeat.

Don’t try going behind him; His giant tail (which is finally present in-game after years of being excluded) will just sweep behind Kraid and hurt Samus, shoving her back within his front side’s range. Kraid’s front is where his vulnerable spots are anyhow, but of course that’s where he launches projectiles from too. You can’t jump over Kraid’s tail, but maybe he’ll sometimes bend down to sweep his arm across the floor; You can jump over that and damage Kraid when his mouth is at the right angle. The same happens when he goes for an overhead swing but misses. Maybe you can shoot Kraid’s palm when he winds up to cancel the attack! Sometimes Kraid will shield his eyes/mouth with his hand; You might need to grapple it out of the way.

(Come to think of it, the Omega Pirate that replaced Kraid also shields himself with his hand… Maybe this defense was intended for Meta Kraid, as an homage to how in Super Metroid, Kraid can shield his mouth with his hand!)

[wilsons-journey]

Summary: Commander Deus and Vale

To the most part they follow the events as in game, but here are some notable mentions / events that are important to know:

During the fight against Kralkratorrik, Vale will be gravely injured. She nearly loses her arm.

The presence of Phrike also grows stronger after Kralkatorrik's defeat. There is even an attack on Vale while she is recovering. Luckily without success.

The Icebrood Saga

Vale and Deus not only have to deal with Bangar and the two remaining Elder Dragons, they also have their hands full with Phrike. Another Attack is launched at them, nearly killing Vale and Deus. Fuma, Wilson and Baal also narrowly escape an attack.

It is Bangar who manages to left a mark on Vale. She gets shot by him. Sending her to the side again to rest. And it’s Jormags talking making her questions her decisions - She even almost considers working with him.

First cracks are forming on Vale’s Fassade. But they will succeed in killing Primordus and Jormag. 

Phrike also finds his demise during a failed attack against the Black Citadel. He prepared bombs to cause a lot of damage, but was caught before he was able to pull though his plan. The Legions found his hideout. He detonates the bombs there. Killing his most of his allies and nearly himself, too. Bahalt will end his life on his wish.

End of Dragons

Vale and Deus will crash together in Cantha. Everything else will follow as in the game. Desmond and Baal will join them. Bahalt, too! She becomes part of the Dragons Watch. Valefor and Kying will join them in the final fight.

During the events around the Gyala Delve, it is Vale dealing with a lot of emotional baggage. And it’s the first time her Husband Deus realizes, that he is demanding too much from her. Then there is the farewell from Aurene. Vale is struggling a lot to let her go. She not only losing her unusual daughter - with her departing, Vale feels like her purpose in life is leaving with her, too.

While Deus concentrates on clean up the mess that was left after the Civil war, Vale falls into a deep hole. She struggles a lot with her new life back in the Black Citadel. Yet she wants to support her husband, be at his side. But she feels lost and out of place.

Together with Bahalt she starts to raise the Cubs in the Fahrar. And for a brief period of time it brings fills her with joy. Pushing the heavy feelings aside, as she watches her son Orez thrive with his new found Warband. The Prism-Warband - with it’s members Orez, Phrike Jr. and Elden. All in the same age and all children of their inner circle.

Phrike Jr., the son of Phrike - a last gift to his closest Friend Bahalt, who now is Friend with the Dragon Watch. Making up for the damage Phrike has caused in his madness. Elden, the daughter of Desmond. Who was unaware of her for a long time.

But at some point, the restlessness in Vale returned...

Secret of the Obscure

Deus and Vale will together investigate the occurrences at Garenhoff. But it will be only Vale, infiltrating the Camp of the strangers and ultimately sucked in by the portal that brings her to Skywatch Archipelago.

On Vale’s request. Mabon also brings in Deus along.

In one of the earlier fights against the Kryptis and the constant voice in Vales head, she experience another breakdown. This time during a fight - making her unable to proceed. She gets recused by a Member of the Wizard's Court. She notices that face, but she cant remember it anymore. It’s her father, that left her family in her early childhood. He joined the Wizards - even ascended at the cost of his memories.

While Deus is overwhelmed by his wife's breakdown, Vale seeks out Valefor for a talk. Together with Kying, he joined the fight against the Kryptis. At first only for the Rift hunts.

In this talk Valefor brings up the fact that Vale should take a break. Or even considering stepping back from the role as Commander. It will break her to a point of no return. Sometimes you need to take care of yourself. There will always be people to take over, to save the world. But only a few are there to look after the hero. It is in her responsibility to recognize when it is too much. After asking her when was the last time she was truly happy, she breaks down again. Realizing that Valefor is right. To help her even further with the decision he offers to take over from now. 

With that Vale returns to the Black Citadel to recover one more. As always with Deus at her side. But since the events of the Gyala Delve they slowly but surely drifted apart. The once familiar closeness suddenly feels strange.

Vale starts to retreats further and further - not even Deus can get to her anymore. And with Orez also moving away from her, as he spends most of his time with his new Warband - and Fuma gone, venturing the world with her loved ones. She feels lost like the day she left her home.

So she does that, was she did back then - flee. However, she is intercepted by Desmond, who visits her in the Black Citadel. A long emotional talk follows in which she decides to return to her old home - far away from everything that reminds her of her time as a commander.

While Desmond will accompany her, Deus stays behind - letting her go in the hope she is able to find happiness again. After hearing that his Mother will leave again, Orez starts to panic. Crying and clinging to his mother. It’s then decided that he and his friends will join her, too.

Back in her home, she is warmly welcomed by her former childhood friends. And what felt like an eternity, she finally feels at ease again. She finds joy and peace in a simple life as a fisher.

Occasionally Deus visits her and his son. And even if they drifted apart. The love is still there,... and yet very far away. It’s an unassailable dull pain, that is quickly forgotten, after he witnesses how happy his wife is again.

Deus himself is not yet ready to step back in his role. Like his brother Baal, he sees himself in the duty to rebuild the Legions.But maybe one day... he'll join Vale in this peaceful life. Until then he lets go of his true love. She has done enough for Tyria and deserves her happiness and peace.

[symphonicsoul]

Morality Meme || Accepting

@voidedgear asked:

🌹: When would they tell a lie?

Whenever he deems it necessary and he'd do it with a smile on his face. He would do it unflinchingly. Kumo is a masterful liar and a masterful manipulator. He's perfected it like he would have other skill. Like he would any other art form.

The thing is, interactions with Kaze would lead one of believe that Kumo can't lie to save his fucking life and this assumption would be wholly untrue because it's not that he sucks at lying - it's that Kaze has a distinct advantage when it comes to Kumo that no one else has - and KUMO doesn't even know Kaze has.

Kaze can see the glow of Kumo's soul like an aura all around him.

AKA what everyone else sees VS what Kaze sees:

And that soul glow of his will dim, brighten, or flicker depending on his moods and if he is lying, it flickers.

So Kaze has a higher chance of seeing through Kumo's bullshit if only because he can see this flickering glow all around him even if he's standing there spouting blatant bullshit with a smile on his face unflinchingly.

And this includes lines like "I'm fine." and "I'm not mad." or "Why would I be upset?" or my favorite of his Kaze based lies: "I trust you."

And he gets away with most of these. Why? Why if Kaze can see the flicker? Because if he's panicking he also flickers. If he's upset or mad or furious - he flickers. When Kumo's emotions are unbalanced no matter what that emotion is, he flickers.

Kumo will absolutely lie for every reason from manipulation to getting out of trouble to furthering his own goals to pure survival to pacifying a potentially dangerous situation.

Kumo's brother, Kiri, said to him in his episode (18) a very powerful line that describes Kumo very well.

"Use your sword, not your mouth - use your sword to calm my spirit, my brother."

And he said this because he was trying to get Kumo to fight him over the constant attempts to talk his brother down despite his brother spending the whole episode trying to kill him.

The point I am making here with this is Kumo will resort to words before he resorts to physical action in 9 out of 10 cases and to get him to resort to physical action, he generally needs to be pushed.

Meaning: The take away from this is -> If Kumo feels the need to; if Kumo feels threatened, scared, cornered, etc

He will lie his little ass off before he ever raises a finger to defend himself. He will lie, lie and then lie again. He will lie straight through his teeth if he thinks it's going to get him out of trouble. If he thinks it's going to spare someone's feelings. If he thinks he can do it to get information, he will. If he thinks lying will work to his advantage, then he's gunna fucking lie.

Even if they're white lies.

Does he like lying? No.

Doe he think it's honorable? Absolutely not.

Does he personally approve of it? Again No.

Does he see it as one of the more wicked things he does? 100% he does.

Will he still do it? With a smile on his face that never cracks.

He played the long game with Gaudium for 12 years and those fuckers all thought he was on their side and as loyal to Chaos as they were never knowing once that he was secretly just keeping his head down, gathering information, and planning a war.

Kumo has planned a literal war against Gaudium for 12 years, and the Lords didn't suspect a thing. Why? Because Kumo lies masterfully.

[msfbgraves]

All the three main men in Daniel’s life (Pop, Michael, Terry) all love him intensely, and all hurt him deeply, and all truly suck. 

He’s his Pop’s favourite pup, he totally adores him (to a disturbing extent) and he dotes on him and spoils him. Lavishes him with love. Yet Pop’s the one that bartered Daniel off to Terry. Used him as a living, breathing pawn to save the family. His youngest, his baby, only 18, looking 14, hardly more than a child—sold to a man 10 years his senior who threatened murder. That’s a promise broken on so many levels. 

Then there’s calculating, reserved psycho Michael. I get the impression that Daniel is his favourite sibling, yet he’s also totally willing to use him to further the family’s means. He encouraged the match with Terry, he thought it best, and he was partly responsible for the horrific night and what came of it. Indirectly, he caused/causes(?) so much pain and misery in Daniel’s life. 

And Terry. Good god, Terry. Loves and adores and craves Daniel to a psycho amount, more than anyone or anything and is also the one that wounds him the most, and the deepest. The rape, the cheating. The constant undercurrent of lust and violence, love and cruelty towards his own spouse. Buys him jewelry and a collar to thank him for letting him fuck him like a whore. His, again, willingness to use Daniel and his own pups to gain an empire, despite Daniel not particularly wanting this for himself or his babies. Forcing Daniel over and over to take a more active role, controlling him in every way, ruthless in his loving and his fucking. The definition of the monster is in your home. 

I mean!!!!!!!!!

This poor, sweet boy. Just always going from one mess to another, and never allowed to truly make his own choices. Any choice he makes is just such a small defiance it hardly counts. He really is someone’s son, someone’s sibling, someone’s mate—and always a pawn in someone else’s game. Sometimes I wish he had just run away with Kumiko. Hell, even Johnny Lawrence, haha 😭 Daniel needs to be petted and loved, and not given love at the sharp end of a knife. He’s such a sweetheart! 🥲 Lmao but despite saying this I still want Silverusso to  be together forever. 

😭 What’s wrong with me 🙃

Beautiful analysis.

I think it would make Daniel sad to hear that his choices "hardly count", though. The problem is more that he has very little space to manoeuver, and every choice would have enormous consequences.

I don't know who of you actually play chess, but Daniel's position is like a pawn deep at the enemy's end of the board. If you get a pawn there, backed up well - even when it can hardly attack anyone far and not move unless the other player allows it, man, can that pawn make it hard for the enemy to play or attack well! If that pawn could say (and it can't) "nope, I'm out! I'm just a pawn anyway!" the King would be like "What?! You're keeping the enemy at bay simply by being there, doing nothing! You aren't going anywhere!"

That's Daniel. All around him, war is raging, and he can't move, he's blocked from all sides, but if the enemy makes a wrong move or two suddenly he becomes a Queen, which is as close as chess has to a weapon of mass destruction. And he isn't safe, but at this point he can usually only be killed at insane cost to the enemy so a smart player will try to avoid that. So he's all position and great potential threat. So, how do you deal with that position? Become a weapon of mass destruction? Sacrifice yourself to take on a far grander enemy? Or bide your time, hoping the big shots fight it out themselves?

And Michael - Daniele is his brother, his blood, and inside information on a potential enemy. He loves him. And he sometimes needs to tell him things straight when Pop won't. He knows better than anyone how to play the game while not being Alpha, but he doesn't know how deeply his little brother loves. He loves too, but it's always power he seeks without really asking why. And that is lethal. Nessa is not on the game by choice, Louie is a hands on guy, Michael is an excellent Don but he needs his little brother where he is for maximum impact. And Daniel has had to grow around this impossible position. He knows his potential, but he has to be very careful on how to use it and in what phase of the game.

[lonelinessisadisease]

To the revolutionaries who want to destroy the government: do you really think a republican government is easier to dismantle? The democratic party sides with weapons and investment (military and exploitation of all forms). They have done this and will continue to do this. It is one of the painful realities we all have to face.

But the republican party? Trump in particular? They are not here to just side with fascists, to allow fascism a seat at the table. They are not here to keep the American war machine well-oiled. They are those seats, and they are the war machine.

I cannot over-express how much Biden fucking sucks. He does. There will be a throne of bodies for him to rest on in Hell.

But level with me. Why are you really not voting for Biden? I know it's not because you think Trump is better. I know it's not because you think there will be a magical third candidate that will win.

It's because you feel guilty, isn't it? You've been seeing genocide after genocide, atrocity after atrocity, and it's getting harder to justify your place in this world.

And I get it. It's really, really hard to wake up and remember the voting system we are under is just another tool for evil. It's easier to just...remove yourself from the equation. You're not voting for either of those old, evil assholes. You didn't put your pennies into the pot so it's not your fault when it boils over. You don't need to feel bad anymore if you don't vote for them.

But that's not how this works. I know you know that's not how this works. I saw all of you rallying together to vote Trump out of office after his term because you all knew that regardless of how bad Biden was he would be leagues better.

Part of being an activist means fighting back. Failing to vote in the current political climate is not rebellion, it's a silent defeat. It is us giving up because it's too hard, because it feels too bad.

It is our job as people to take care of each other. Most of us believe this. I know you do. It's clear you all care so much about each other. I've seen the constant desire to help across nations. But I feel like we forgot that preventing harm in our own country is just as important as preventing harm in others.

Even and especially when it hurts.

I'm sorry, but that responsibility doesn't go away just because we don't want to bear it. It is just as important that we vote now as it was before. It will be just as important every time after this, too. I'll say it again and again, as many times as I need to.

Stop thinking of it as voting Biden in, for a second. We don't want that asshole in office any more than you do. That's not the point.

The point is that we need to vote Trump out. We already know what it's going to look like if we don't.

I want to honor that this is an incredibly hard decision to make. I know how gut-wrenching the thought of perpetuating a bad system feels. I know the doubts.

Is it worth it to keep fighting for what we have when it hurts this much? Is it worth it? Should our guilt be dictating our decisions? Should it be stopping our actions? Should we allow it to define our activism?

I have been shown time and time again that people are resilient, they are brave, and they are kind. They will face insurmountable odds to help one another, and they do things even when it's hard. You do things even when they're hard, because you're brave.

And you can do this, too.

Go to polling booths. Send in your ballot when you get it.

If it feels too bad to bear the burden of picking Biden, put it on me. I've already taken the weight of asking you to vote for Biden, okay? You don't need to feel bad about this. You don't need to destroy yourself because you don't see any way out.

The only way out is forward. If your guilt is keeping you from moving, it's not worth keeping. So give it to me.

Go vote pissed, or mad, or bored. Be mad at me. Be mad at the system. Be mad at Biden and Trump. Be mad. Be sad and grieving and frustrated. If you can't get rid of it, be guilty.

Then do it anyway. I know you can.

if i see one more article, post, or news anchor talking about how joe biden is old, i'm putting my fist through a window. i feel like i've gone through the fucking looking glass.

this is project 2025, trump's plan for what he'll do if elected. whatever you think is in there, it's worse. watch a breakdown of the highlights here. this man wants to unravel the fabric of our democracy for good - this all aside from his vitriolic hatred of poc, his determination to start ww3, and the fact that he can't string a sentence together without telling outrageous and easily verifiable lies. his administration will start their crusade to exterminate trans people on day one, and they won't stop there.

do not talk to me about how joe biden is old, as if that could ever matter to me more than my life or the lives of my friends and family. my little sister is 14, she's trans, and i don't know what to tell her when we talk about politics, because one of these people wants her dead and the other one is old and some of you are still acting like those problems are equals.

i can't fucking stand this. i'm not hearing it this time, we are not repeating 2016. refusing to vote is not an act of protest, it is an act of complacency, and our most vulnerable will suffer for your negligence. vote like your life depends on it, because for some of us, it really fucking does.