#b-convoy

[cheerful-sixears]

TF: Fearless Frontlines

I was inspired by this prompt, here, and I wrote something for it. It's angsty, and yet I feel fucking great after this exercise. Delicate, but great. Fanfic mainly showcases a lot of @starscrumpt 's MoonHowl and how his influence has kept B-Convoy's direct narrative headstrong. [ngl I cried too much writing this.]

Title: Fearless Frontlines

Alt. TItle: Courage Takes Flight From that First Fearful Step

Fandom: Transformers [vague universe setting]

Rating: PG-13[?] [minor mentions of trauma/cursing/sensitive materials]

Songs Insp. [and why] : 

-Pillar - Frontline [this song inspired my overall thoughts regarding B-Convoy’s unwavering ‘fight till the end’ mindset that I share with equal duality]

-Smash Into Pieces - Counting on Me [this song inspired my thoughts on MoonHowl’s unwavering trust and support of B-Convoy and his endeavors]

-Sleep Token - Take Me Back To Eden [B-Convoy’s longing for what was, and how he’d fight to achieve any and all to be in that state of normalcy, for him. That smallish glimmer of a peaceful, remedial healing that he only ever tasted on the surface level before the war began. I played this one back, toward the middle and end with MoonHowl, because it really encased the pain and emotions here. Spoiler: I cried…a lot.]

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Standing with a processor riddled with ponderous thoughts, amidst the plans that many-a-restless evenings meticulously produced, B-Convoy’s optics gleamed in a dazed, almost static-glazed vacancy that most were unfamiliar with. A few of the cautious mechs stood in silent regard as B-Convoy continued to gaze into what appeared an unrelenting void-like trance. The tension was thicker than the copious amounts of old and new energon-shed, caked and layered upon the battlefield outside of their trembling, yet sturdy keep. 

One of those mechs that stood around the other few sauntered forward, his wingspan hung heavy as his shoulders carried little enthusiasm with each gentle step. He placed a servo-paw upon B-Convoy’s shoulder, Convoy’s tensed reaction triggering a pooling of tears upon the muzzle of his fellow empath, MoonHowl. He pressed his digits as his servo-paw remained and served as a grounding weight, even in the slightest, to support B-Convoy’s heaviest aches. The weight of war was pressing far heavier than some would ever fathom a normal mech could manage. 

A random voice echoed through the silence, slicing through it with a venomous inquiry and serpentine strike, “You’ve forgotten what it even means to lead. You’ve been so enveloped in your own direction-your own path, and in that, you’ve forgotten yourself.” 

The blatant, seering statement brought an unfamiliar expression of rage and a familiar pain that MoonHowl once felt in his own self. He bit back in protective ferocity, even before B-Convoy was able to express his imminent distress, “NO-He’s changed. I will NEVER find weakness in that,” His chords trembled as he pointed to the map on the holoscreen projected before them all. His servo-paw was clenched in a trembling rage.

“None of you took a moment to count the amount of victories we’ve surpassed and how far we’ve survived. We’ve thrived without his predecessor, even. Your fear leads your spark astray, rethink your words before you cause more damage and create rifts, than create peace and healing. Rethink your actions, please.” An almost somber, sullen expression crossed MoonHowl’s softened, heavy gaze as he turned his glance from the distraught mech and unto B-Convoy, who’s optics were hazed with more pain and layered sorrow than one should ever experience in a fraction of a lifetime. 

If his visor were not apparent to hide his jaw or muzzle, the pain would be doubly obvious. MoonHowl continued to grip onto B-Convoy’s shoulder plate. After a moment of pained and agonizing silence, B-Convoy raised his opposing servo-paw to meekly grasp and cup MoonHowl’s. His grasp trembled, and it was clear within his optics, that he fought to regain stability to speak once more. If MoonHowl knew one thing above others, it was B-Convoy’s hurt. He’d been there from the start. Almost every pain, every loss, and through every hardship, their kinship remained.

A familiar and promising flicker glimmered momentarily within B-Convoy’s optics before he nodded in a silent agreement to MoonHowl before standing amidst a small, yet significantly larger audience than before. He lowered his visor to reveal a prominent, newly empowered snarl with shimmering fangs that bore confidence and newfound strength, “My esteemed and hardened comrades, as your Pack Leader, I implore each one of you to embrace the strength that resides within your sparks. Draw from the depths of your being, channeling the power of unity, honor, and unwavering resolve," He gestured with a combination of newfound courage, strength, yet carried humbled humility within his choreographic show, as well.

"Remember, it is our loyalty to one another that fortifies our ranks and sets us apart from our adversaries. These …treacherous beasts, driven by their insatiable hunger for power and shed-energon threaten the very fabric of peace and harmony that we hold dear,” He paused, glancing over to MoonHowl, as though to garner a second wave of a new gilded, breath, and then continued with more confidence than before, “In the face of their relentless aggression, let our bravery shine brightly through the darkest of times. We shall not waver, nor shall we falter, for our cause is just, and our sparks beat endlessly as one. Together, we possess a power greater than any individual con or beast could ever hope to wield. Let them bear witness to the force that resides within our ranks, our Pack, as we unleash our true potential. My comrades-my family, as we charge forward with unwavering determination, let us remember that our strength lies not only in our bodies but also within our minds. Strategize, adapt, and outmaneuver our foes at every turn. We are a force to be reckoned with—a symphony of metal and courage, bound together by an unbreakable bond. Let our sparks ignite the path to triumph, as we march forward to face our foes with our heads held high! For the love of unity, unending courage, and our family!��

With a gallant wave and a triumphant fist to his chassis, a seemingly newfound energy resonated within the room’s interior. A new wave of glimmering radiance-of newfound aspirations and hope. B-Convoy exhaled and glanced back to his comrade, a humbled expression of sparkfelt pride and harmonious glee. He simply muttered amongst the crowd’s cheers, “I’m proud of you.”

End.

Art drawn by @starscrumpt 💕

[kathlare]

golden horizons

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amidst the energy and laughter, a lighthearted connection blossoms into quiet intimacy between Lando and Amelie, their playful banter and shared moments painting a vivid portrait of joy and affection.

Wordcount: 1.1 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

January 2nd, 2025 - Dubai, United Arab Emirates

The sun beat down on the golden dunes outside Dubai, the horizon stretching endlessly in waves of shimmering sand. The roar of dune buggies echoed through the vast desert, engines revving as the group raced and drifted across the sandy expanse. Lando Norris, sitting at the wheel of his buggy, had never felt so carefree—or so distracted.

In the passenger seat beside him, Amelie adjusted her sunglasses, a playful smile tugging at her lips as her hair whipped in the wind. She’d insisted on wearing the most impractical outfit for dune-bashing—an olive-green cropped tank top, denim shorts, and combat boots—but somehow, she still looked like she belonged in a photoshoot.

Not that Lando minded. In fact, he was struggling to keep his eyes on the trail ahead of them.

—Eyes on the sand, Lan,— Amelie teased, her voice cutting through the roar of the engine. She tilted her head toward him, grinning. —Unless you want to flip this thing.—

—If I do, it’ll be your fault for looking like… that,— Lando muttered, gesturing vaguely at her outfit with one hand while steering with the other.

She laughed, the sound ringing out over the hum of the engine. —Looking like what, exactly?—

—You know what I mean,— he said, his cheeks flushing under the sun.

Amelie smirked, leaning closer so her voice was just loud enough for him to hear. —If you’re trying to say I look hot, you can just say it, Lan.—

Lando let out a huff, tightening his grip on the wheel as the buggy crested another dune. —Fine. You look fucking hot. There, happy?—

Amelie burst out laughing, her hand resting on his thigh as she looked out over the endless expanse of sand. —Very. I just wanted to hear you say it.—

He glanced over at her briefly, his face softening despite his feigned annoyance. —You’re a menace, you know that?—

—You love it,— she shot back, her tone teasing but affectionate.

—Yeah, yeah, I do.— He grinned, shaking his head.

Ahead of them, Tom and Alisa’s buggy was kicking up a cloud of sand, and Lando followed their trail, weaving expertly around the dunes. A few more friends were scattered around, all part of the convoy tearing through the desert.

After a while, the group came to a stop at a particularly picturesque spot. The towering dunes framed the horizon, and the sunlight hit just right, painting everything in golden hues. Everyone climbed out of their buggies, stretching their legs and grabbing water bottles from the coolers.

Lando, however, had other plans. He reached into the back of the buggy and pulled out Amelie’s digital camera, the one she’d brought on the trip but barely touched.

—Alright, Ames, stand right there,— he said, gesturing toward a small crest of sand.

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. —Are you seriously trying to turn this into a photoshoot?—

—Yes. Now go stand over there and look pretty,— he said, his tone half-joking but determined.

Amelie laughed but obliged, walking up the dune and striking a dramatic pose. Lando adjusted the camera’s settings, grinning as he snapped a few shots.

—You’re ridiculous,— she called out, shading her eyes from the sun as she looked down at him.

—And you’re gorgeous. Now stop moving.—

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile, letting him take a few more photos before dropping the act and laughing. —Okay, that’s enough, paparazzi.—

—Not even close,— he said, lowering the camera to look at her properly. His voice softened as he added, —You look like a damn goddess, Ames. I’m serious.—

Her expression shifted, the teasing edge fading as she looked at him. —Lan…—

—What? I’m just saying what I’m thinking,— he said, his cheeks slightly pink.

She came back down the dune, her boots sinking into the sand as she reached him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close. —You’re such a sap sometimes. You know that?—

—Only for you,— he murmured, his hands settling on her waist as he leaned down to kiss her.

—Oi, lovebirds!— Tom’s voice interrupted them, making Amelie laugh as she pulled back.

—What, mate?— Lando called back, not even bothering to look over.

—We’re here to race buggies, not watch you two snog in the middle of the desert!— Tom shouted, grinning as Alisa elbowed him playfully.

Amelie chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to Lando’s jaw before stepping back. —Guess we’re holding up the fun, Mr. Norris.—

Lando sighed dramatically, slipping the camera strap over his shoulder. —Fine. But this isn’t over. You still owe me a proper photoshoot later.—

—Oh, do I?— she teased, grabbing his hand as they walked back to their buggy.

—Yeah, you do. I’ll even edit them for you. Make ‘em all artsy.—

Amelie laughed, her fingers laced with his. —You’re too much, you know that?—

—And yet, you still love me,— he quipped, flashing her a cheeky grin.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. —Unfortunately for me, yeah, I do.—

They climbed back into the buggy, and Lando wasted no time revving the engine. The group took off again, roaring over the dunes, the desert stretching endlessly around them. The wind whipped through their hair, and the thrill of speeding over the sand made Amelie throw her arms up in the air like a kid on a rollercoaster.

Lando couldn’t stop smiling. He loved seeing her like this—completely free, unguarded, and in the moment. She turned to him at one point, her laughter ringing out over the noise, and he swore his heart skipped a beat.

—You’re insane!— she yelled, her voice full of joy.

—Takes one to know one!— he shouted back, making her laugh even harder.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the dunes, the group came to a stop again. This time, it was Ed who suggested they take a break and watch the sunset. Everyone parked their buggies in a loose circle, pulling out blankets and snacks as they settled in for the view.

Amelie and Lando sat side by side on a blanket, her head resting on his shoulder as they watched the sun sink below the horizon. The sky turned a brilliant mix of oranges, pinks, and purples, the colors blending together like a watercolor painting.

Lando pulled out her camera again, snapping a photo of the horizon before turning it on her. She caught him this time, swatting at his hand.

—Lan, come on. Enough with the camera.—

—Never. You’re too beautiful not to capture,— he said, grinning as he snapped another shot of her laughing.

—You’re ridiculous,— she muttered, though the blush on her cheeks gave her away.

He set the camera down, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. —Ridiculous and madly in love with you.—

Her heart softened at his words, and she tilted her head to look up at him. —You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?—

He smirked, leaning down to press his forehead against hers. —And you’re lucky you’re stuck with me.—

—Hmm, debatable,— she teased, but her smile betrayed her.

As the group packed up to head back to their hotel, Lando couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. This trip, this day, this woman—it was all perfect. And he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the night reminding her just how much he adored her.

[hboww2rewatch]

Please read the movie descriptions below

Saving Private Ryan (1998) - Following the Normandy Landings, a group of U.S. soldiers go behind enemy lines to retrieve a paratrooper whose brothers have been killed in action. Dir. by Steven Spielberg

A League of Their Own (1992) - American sports comedy drama film that tells a fictionalized account of the real-life All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL) during WWII. Dir. by Penny Marshall

Greyhound (2020) - The film is based on the 1955 novel The Good Shepherd, and follows a US Navy commander on his first assignment commanding a multi-national escort destroyer group of four, defending an Allied convoy from U-boats during the Battle of the Atlantic. Dir. by Aaron Schneider

Mudbound (2017) - The film depicts two World War II veterans – one white, one black – who return to rural Mississippi each to address racism and PTSD in his own way. Dir. by Dee Rees

Twelve O'Clock High (1949) - A tough-as-nails general (Gregory Peck as General Savage) takes over a B-17 bomber unit suffering from low morale and whips them into fighting shape. Based on a novel by the same name. Dir. by Henry King

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) - three United States servicemen re-adjusting to societal changes and civilian life after coming home from World War II. The three men come from different services with different ranks that do not correspond with their civilian social class backgrounds. It is one of the earliest films to address issues encountered by returning veterans in the post World War II era. Dir. by William Wyler 

The Monuments Men (2014) - An unlikely World War II platoon is tasked to rescue art masterpieces from German thieves and return them to their owners. Based on the 2007 non-fiction book The Monuments Men: Allied Heroes, Nazi Thieves and the Greatest Treasure Hunt in History. Dir. by George Clooney

Dunkirk (2017) - Allied soldiers from Belgium, the British Commonwealth and Empire, and France are surrounded by the German Army and evacuated from Dunkirk. It is shown from the perspectives of the land, sea, and air. Dir. by Christopher Nolan

Fury (2014) - A grizzled tank commander makes tough decisions as he and his crew fight their way across Germany in April, 1945. Dir. by David Ayer

Valkyrie (2008) - A dramatization of the July 20, 1944 assassination and political coup plot by desperate renegade German Army officers against Adolf Hitler during World War II. Dir. by Bryan Singer

[pinturas-sgm-aviacion]

1943 03 03 Bismarck Sea, Pacific Beaufighters - Darryl Legg

RAAF Beaufighters of 30 Sqdn, attack Japanese supply ships during the Battle of the Bismarck Sea. March, 1943.

The 13 Beaufighters from No. 30 Squadron RAAF approached the convoy at low level to give the impression they were Beauforts making a torpedo attack. The ships turned to face them, the standard procedure to present a smaller target to torpedo bombers, allowing the Beaufighters to maximise the damage they inflicted on the ships' anti-aircraft guns, bridges and crews in strafing runs with their four 20 mm (0.79 in) nose cannons and six wing-mounted .303 in (7.70 mm) machine guns. On board one of the Beaufighters was cameraman Damien Parer, who shot dramatic footage of the battle; it was later included in the newsreel The Bismarck Convoy Smashed.

According to the official RAAF release on the Beaufighter attack, "enemy crews were slain beside their guns, deck cargo burst into flame, superstructures toppled and burned". Garrett Middlebrook, a co-pilot in one of the B-25s, described the ferocity of the strafing attacks:

They went in and hit this troop ship. What I saw looked like little sticks, maybe a foot long or something like that, or splinters flying up off the deck of ship; they'd fly all around ... and twist crazily in the air and fall out in the water. Then I realized what I was watching were human beings. I was watching hundreds of those Japanese just blown off the deck by those machine guns. They just splintered around the air like sticks in a whirlwind and they'd fall in the water.

Shirayuki was the first ship to be hit, by a combination of strafing and bombing attacks. Almost all the men on the bridge became casualties, including Kimura, who was wounded. One bomb hit started a magazine explosion that caused the stern to break off, and the ship to sink. Her crew was transferred to Shikinami, and Shirayuki was scuttled. The destroyer Tokitsukaze was also hit and fatally damaged. Its crew was taken off by Yukikaze. The destroyer Arashio was hit, and collided with the transport Nojima, disabling her. Both the destroyer and the transport were abandoned, and Nojima was later sunk by an air attack.

[meli-writes]

Mechismo - No. 6 /// Payload

(First) / (Previous)

/// CW: light peril and implied threat of sexual assault. ///

"Nah, this is too good to be true," the merc-rebel-something mutters. She turns, twiddling the combat knife in her hand and stopping only to point it at you. "You wanna tell me what trap i've walked into, sweetheart?"

You eye the databox, stuffed with weeks and months of upcoming junta plans; and more besides. Enough intel to butcher hundreds of their bootlickers, least until they figure out they're compromised.

"I have it — for my own reasons," you taunt like the bellow of rotten, felled tree. "Making my mark, if you have to know."

"Is daddy-dictator's special girl staging a rebellious phase in her twenties?" the merc mocks. "Smuggle a bunch of data to what? Sell for tattoo money?"

You didn't plan an answer for a question like this, and it's hard not to just gawk and fumble at your cuffs.

"Maybe — if it's not a trap — the intel lasts a week," she continues. And besides that, you urge in your own head. "That's the only part with access dates in years. Rest is outdated crap."

"W-what do you—"

You shut your mouth when she stalks up, lifts your chin with the little blade's point with just enough force to dip it in red.

"You living out some little fantasy right now?" she asks, as much curioused as annoyed. "Because I really think that'd be a mistake."

It takes a lot not squeal. "I-I'm a valuable hostage, my family will pay well."

"They will," the merc muses, "and I think you knew that." In a glance she's seen right through, smiles at the confirmation you haven't realised you just gave away. "You leaked your convoy's route didn't you? Playing hero. Thinking you're gonna make us a pretty penny and then waddle back to your parties and soirées."

You buck up above the point of the knife, "You think I like being around them? They're monsters. And I have to pretend to be one, and you have no idea what that does to you."

Her brow raised, she stays quiet, listens.

"But i stood up, just like you did. I'm doing what I can."

And she laughs.

"Ah-hahaha! Oh saints, how many years you been saving up that little speech, sweetheart? Or bleeding-heart I should say."

"Too many," you spit.

"Hmm. Good answer," she smirks, putting a hand on your shoulder and hoisting you towards her own mech. "You're staying restrained."

"B-but i'm helping you!" you gasp.

"Your round ass for ransom helps me — you don't," she makes clear, enunciating it with a squeeze that presses into your collarbone. "And I don't trust you, so i'm not interested in giving you the chance to try anything. Don't think I haven't killed prettier things than you.

Don't think I regretted it either."

---

The merc bags your head first. Stuffs a mule-bit in your mouth overtop of it, so you're forced to swallow the loose fibres under your teeth as you gnaw on it in cortisol and pothole-induced chatters.

This isn't the edible part of the plant. You remember a 'land exchange ceremony' where you had to a drink a thick, green bowl of its stewed leaves and were sure the locals were making a joke about how bitter it was. You vomited it out-of-sight, sure your father would fucking shoot one of them if he saw it. Mostly because you hated the sound. the loud screech, and the crying after. The palace was far enough away to forget that was just part of the production process here.

Jute. It's called jute, you remember. 11.768MG from this entire continent, and about half of what it's allowed to produce. The other is raw minerals, shipped without care to the extra weight because it makes sure there's nothing here worth rebelling over. Makes sure no one can make anything out of it processed.

That's the theory at least. Doesn't explain who's paying for her. She doesn't look like one of the locals, like the people she pulls your hood off to, after 4 hours of trying not to vomit again as you rattled about in her scout mech's storage bin.

"Now youse believe me? Little Miss Junta, out of daddy's palace for a stroll in her smoking convoy," the merc purrs.

Her hand slips over your shoulder, through your heat-fucked hair and over your cheek, where the yanking of the bag has scratched a peace garden into the tear-stained makeup under your still-blinking eyes.

You stumble, lose your footing but only fall an inch as another hand sinks into your gut. It reminds you of one of those tree-cutting attachments, used for clearing land for plantation.

"There there, I got you sweetheart" she murmurs mockingly, slipping the bit back in before you can say—

You're not sure what you should.

You don't know these people. But it's hard to meet their stares for more than a moment, slash-and-burn fires in their eyes. The fires that throw up smoke you can see from a hundred miles away from behind ten layers of razorwire and a line of autogun implacements. Where this plan felt much more predictable.

You're not sure if you want her to explain it either.

She knows better, you're sure. The longer you've spent on this world has only made you feel like you know less and less.

"You waiting for a fucking bonus? A round of applause, perhaps?" one of them asks, an officer — or leader, if that sort of formality doesn't match. His pushed-back chair scrapes across the floor, pushing aside rotting fibres strewn across it. "You're paid for each contracted period; 50% at start, 50% at end, that's it."

"Can start with telling your man to fix my piece," your captor demands, or offers. It's hard to tell. One of the men at the table seems to hover around throwing his cards down. "There's a lot of dead men to clean out of the toe pads."

The 'officer' doesn't signal the sitting man to move. "You'll go with him then, yeah?" he asks.

Your eyes are adjusting now. It's only a moment before they've locked with his. You can't tell what your captor is doing but she's not moving either. He continues, "She can stay—"

"You're forgetting Section 16. Exceptional duties," she interrupts. "Think i'm at least due for a cut on the ransom. Besides, you're getting her databox for free. There's months worth of good intel there."

There's not. She said—

"It's free because it's useless to you." Unlike you. He circles the table, his hand hovering over loaded guns and dice. Maybe the merc is more predictable than them. Profit-motive alone is a little more... clean. "You radio'd that the convoy looked underarmed but normal. And you chose to engage it while on regular patrol, right?"

"Yeah," the merc grits past your ear, like the speckled concrete chips that have clawed under your dress from being made to crawl in them.

"Then it's not exceptional. Doesn't matter who the fuck she is." He's standing in front of you both now, taller. "Now show-and-tells over. You can supervise repairs while i look over my intake."

Your gut's squished a bit tighter. "And leave you here with her?"

It all clicks a little too quickly, and a little too late.

The officer's hand wraps around the little of your arm that shows in front, still drawn behind to raw wrists in junta cuffs. His thumb presses till your flesh turns whiter than it already is.

He leans over to whisper it in the merc's ear, "the fuck you think we're going to do?"

She yanks you back, head bouncing between pilot-suited tits. "Kidnapping her is escalation. That's Section 33, escalated scenarios, which means anything routine activity from here counts as Section 16," she non-answers. The words cock in her mouth like a loaded gun that hasn't fired yet.

It's just profit-motive. That's all it is. All it is. Your ransom must be worth a dozen of her contracts. She must figure they're testing to see if they can cut her out—

"You knew where to grab her!" the officer shouts. The less-drunk half of the table scrambles to their feet, but no one's armed just yet. You try to keep still, pretend like somehow he won't notice you're there even as he's screaming about you. "How long have i been paying you? trusting you? All that fucking risk. So why're you pulling this, huh? Wanna tell me what's going on? Don't think i didn't see the same stupid tip--"

"Hey! Merc-bitch," the table pipes up, the more-drunk half of it, with few chips and a lot more bottles where he's sitting. "You wanna piss off and let princess play with her new daddies?"

This one's looking at you. It's worse than hate, and twists at whatever face you're making. You can't even tell. Stupid passenger in your own— what? What is this now? Own body except not anymore. Your own plan except it's the merc's now.

Your own punishment?

Hh you are so fucking stupid. 'Your' punishment. Ha! Except your father will do so much worse than just shoot someone for bad leaf soup. The humiliation of it. His own daughter. Almost as bad as stealing one of the tin medals off his chest. If he could keep count of those either. Stupid as he is. And now without autoguns and razorwire and razorwire and more-fucking-razorwire to compensate.

Your merc's wrapping you closer, till your heels start to fall off. You don't even realise how much you were moving till you're forced to stop.

The officer's in his table-piper's face, pied with alcoholic blush, "Shut. The fuck. Up."

He's just trying to control the situation too. Yeah. You're the fucking bad guy here. Daddy's done what they're just joking about. Joking. Because you're the bad guy. You deserve a little of the risk for once.

"I'm just saying—"

"Just stop saying."

"Let me handle her," your merc offers, firm enough to make it obvious it isn't one.

She's pulling you more into her side, hand on your hip in a show of clamatory suggestiveness. She's less risk. You still want less risk.

"It can be payment for 16," she continues. This doesn't help her and now you're leaning into her. Her voice lilts a bit louder, "And if she needs a daddy, i've given her some guidance already."

You can her scar-splitting smile through the corner of your eye. You've seen enough smiles at those fancy balls to spot the bullshit ones, and spot the way she scans for if her comment satisfied or not.

You play your part and whimper.

Pitched just like your empty shell of a prop boyfriend likes and doesn't question. A fear that swirls with pleasure, water down the oil cap of an engine. She squeezes your hip bone in response, and you cow. There's still plenty of room to ruin this even as a prop yourself.

"You stays on your side of the camp," the officer finally says. "Keep her locked down, not my fault if she gets out." He sidles in closer one last time. "Keep her quiet. Not my problem if someone else gets in."

You know what you'd said now. Between the bit and her legs if you have to.

I promise you won't regret this. I promise I promise I—

All she says is, "let me know when you've got a line," and turns, "come on sweetheart. I wanna hear you say daddy."

You'll say that too.

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

[sorinethemastermind]

Everybody Leaves (Soren's Version)

Help arrives at The Banther Lodge, and with it and unexpected reunion. #Sorvus

 It was only a couple days before help arrived from Duren. Soren could see the way that the arriving convoy, laden with supplies, made the little glimmer of hope in everyone’s eyes into a shining light. Suddenly there was enough of, well, everything. And when you didn’t have to worry about whether or not you’d have enough to eat the next day, or if your tent was going to leak rain onto you again, or if the bandages were going to run out, you could use all that energy on something else instead. Something just as important. Like a smile.

 The feeling was contagious. Children were laughing, their parents beaming at them; everyone exchanging hugs with friends and strangers alike. Soren had made sure to keep a warm smile on his face the entire time, because even if he couldn't do anything else for these people, he could do that. He could let them know that everything was going to be okay, that there was hope. But now it was a real and honest grin, and instead of just wearing it he could mean it. And that meant something too. 

 And it wasn’t just Duren that had sent help; Evenere, Del Bar, and even Noodleoodlia had sent food, supplies, and even in some cases aid in the form of guards and doctors. Ezran was already making the rounds, thanking every one in turn for their help, Callum by his side. Since what happened at the castle the two brothers had been nearly inseparable.

 With the talking part already taken care of, Soren had offered to help carry the supplies into the lodge for safe keeping. Afterall, his muscles were pretty impressive and he might as well put them to use. So he went back and forth from the clearing to the lodge, lugging crates and sacks of supplies, handing it out where he could before stockpiling the rest. It was on one of these trips that he spotted her.

 He recognized her immediately, though it took a minute for his mind to absorb what his eyes were telling it. So he just stood there, sort of woodenly, until it finished registering that she was real. She looked about the same as when he’d last seen her, though her hair had a few silver strands in it here and there now. Same little smile and kind eyes, though they had bags under them now. Maybe from days of hard riding to get here. Maybe from something else. 

 It took her longer to recognize him. He guessed he’d changed more. In a lot of ways.

 “Soren?” it was a question, her voice carrying a slight quaver as though she wasn't sure which answer she wanted to be true. 

 “Hey.” he didn’t know what else to say, but he was barely even able to choke that out. Mom felt wrong. Even if it was true. 

 “Oh, Soren.” He could see tears brimming in her eyes and looked away quickly, blinking.

 “I was so worried when I heard…” she tried to continue, her voice breaking as it trailed off. “I thought that maybe… I’m just so glad you’re okay. Is Claudia-”

 She glanced around, as though expecting to see her come out of the lodge, or skip around a corner; still small and smiling and laughing and Claudia. Still the same person she’d left behind, just waiting for her to come back. 

 And something inside Soren just stopped working as he followed her gaze around the camp, as though she really might just be waiting around the corner. As though everything wasn’t broken and hadn’t been broken for so long that sometimes it felt like it always had been. 

 “Soren?” her voice was scared, cracking on the words. “Soren, is Claudia..? Did- did she and your father..?”

 And if the thing inside him hadn't already stopped working, it would have then. He just shook his head, a single wooden no, and grabbed another crate off the pile.

 “I should get this inside. They’re waiting for me.”

 He hefted the box and hurried across the clearing, but it was like the air had grown thick and he was fighting his way through it, every step a feat of strength. She called after him, but he didn’t look back. Just like she hadn’t. Not even when Claudia had run after her, tugging at the hem of her dress with tiny hands, tears spilling down her face, begging her not to go. Not to leave them. Not to break their family apart forever. Not to-

 He didn’t realize he was gasping for breath until he was in the supply room, dropping the crate next to the others, and the door had swung shut behind him. He sat on the ground beside it, trying to unclench his fists even as he struggled to breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through-

 And he wasn’t trying to cry, in fact, he was trying really hard not to. And usually that worked; he could just take the feeling and store it away for later. Except later never came. And maybe that was why now it wasn’t working. Because maybe now was later. Maybe it had finally come. And all the times he’d pushed the feelings down and told himself he would deal with them later, now they were all coming back up because it was the time they’d been waiting for. 

 And suddenly every time his father had ever frowned at him in that certain way, or called him stupid or worthless or annoying. Every time he’d turned around because he thought he'd heard his mother’s laugh, or smelled pancakes cooking in the morning and thought for a split second that she’d come home, or put on that sweater she knit him one winter because it was cold. And every time he’d gone by Claudia’s old room in the castle, or patrolled the courtyard with the bench where she used to sit, or gone into the library to get an old book for Callum. It all came bubbling back up to the surface. 

 Except that sounds too peaceful, like it was some peaceful stream of emotions slowly gurgling through his subconscious. It was actually more like a volcano; erupting and spewing smoke and fire and ash across what remained of his fragile resolve. The same way the dragon had destroyed Katolis, swallowed up his home with fire and death. Swallowed up his father.

 Take my heart. 

 Soren thought that maybe it would be better if he didn’t have one. Or at least, if it just stayed broken, that way maybe it could stop breaking over and over again. And he could just be numb. And that would be better.

 Then the door opened, and Corvus was standing there, eyes wide and concerned. And it was enough to get the thing in Soren that had stopped working to give a spluttering try at starting again.

 “Soren?” Corvus’ voice was high and worried, and he closed the door swiftly behind him and dropped to the ground. 

 His hands cupped Soren’s face, tilting his chin up so their eyes met. He didn’t ask, just wrapped his arms tightly around Soren and held him there. And that was probably good, because Soren didn’t know what he would have said even if he’d had the strength. So he just hugged him back as tightly as he could and buried his face in that warm embrace, where nothing bad happened and everything was always okay.

 Even though that was a lie. Because everybody leaves eventually. 

[syndrossi]

So, what happens if Daemon flies in on Caraxes while Bobby B has just arrived in Winterfell. Since they were at Winterfell when they got isekaied, Daemon goes there. I bet that Daemon looks a lot like grown up Rhaegar (not much genetic variety in that family) and Bobby B starts running his mouth about killing Rhaegar again?

Would Resonant Jon, who loathes Bobby B too maybe get in on the action. What about Rhaegar? The old version of his cousin Rober is frothing at the mouth at the idea of killing him again?

Since it's entirely possible that Daemon arrives around the time Robert's convoy does (several months from now), I will decline to answer. I'd rather not spoil something I may end up writing!

[annaphoenix1994]

Violence and Timing

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

Soap recognized the distress in Ghost's - Simon's - voice recalling the orders, his worry about Kiera clear with every word that left his mouth. Soap was worried too - worried about how all of this would play out, hoping and praying to his belief that they would all be rescued without complications.

Soap and Thompson continued through the town, subtly clearing out the scattered AQ's that were left to guard the space they had taken over, a strong gust of desert sand scattering with the wind, easily covering their tracks.

As well as the enemy's.

"I've got your six, Sergeant." Thompson whispered after they'd taken out an AQ standing on guard. 

"Copy that," Soap sighed, removing a throwing knife from the sheath on his vest. "Two AQ's up ahead. We can make quick work of 'em." 

"Rog. I'll take right, you take the other." 

"Aye." Soap nodded, crouching alongside Thompson as they got into position, nodding at each other before making their move. "Dropped 'em,"

In a fluid motion, three more AQ soldiers were terminated on cue before Soap and Thompson continued forward towards the designated area. 

Making quick work with the rest of the AQ's guarding the container, Ghost took the last shot that concluded the extermination in order to proceed towards the convoy. With a loud screech of the hinges, the container door revealing nearly two dozen people crammed inside - Teeter being among them, her eyes widening at the sight of her protector. Baby. 

"B-Baby!" She gasped. "Out of my way, please! Move!" She made her way through the crowd, rushing into Soap's arms, both irritated at the bulk of Soap's tactical vest keeping their chests from flushing against each other. "Where've you been, huh? Why ain't you been here sooner?"

"Trust me, babe, I've been desperate." He replied, pressing a needy kiss to the base of her neck.

"Prolly ain't as desperate as me," She grumbled. "Give me a gun. We're gettin' K and that other woman back." 

"Not so fast," Soap said, grasping her shoulders. "Not that simple."

"It is that simple. They did bad things-"

"To you?"

"No," Teeter shook her head. "To her and a lot of other girls," She frowned. "We can't tell Simon." 

Soap huffed before pressing the engage button on his comm,

"Come on, let's go."

"Wh-What about the rest of 'em?" 

"I have a group of Marines coming to take them to a secure area," Thompson spoke up. "Including you."

Teeter scoffed, "Oh, I don't think so. I ain't bein' left behind. Not no more." 

"I don't think you have much of a choice." 

"Whatever choice I got, I ain't stayin' here. I'm going with him." She raised her voice, Soap raising his brows and shrugging his shoulders at Thompson. 

"What she says goes."

"Nice to see you again." Price nodded, his free hand clamping down on his hat to prevent it from flying off at the extreme gusts of wind created by the helicopter blades. 

Teeter nodded, covering her ears, "That sounds good!" She shouted, unable to read his lips and assuming he was asking if she wanted an MRE.

Price furrowed his brows and nodded, unable to compile a response before Soap helped her into the helicopter, urgent to ensure she was safely strapped to the seat. Ghost and Thompson entered last, Ghost nodding at Price and Gaz while he clutched his weapon. "Nik!" Price shouted.

"Where to?" 

»»-------¤-------««

"Gaz, you stay in the heli on overwatch. We'll work our way up the line."

"Roger that. Let's thin the herd and get them back."

"W-What about me? I'll shoot these dunes if you need an extra gun." Teeter offered.

I don't know if I could trust her with an M4 without her killing everything in her path, Ghost thought to himself.

"You should stay here." 

"Yeah, should, but I ain't willin' to stay and watch," She scoffed. "I'm ready to fight if you need a fight." 

"I don't think it's a good idea." Ghost added. 

"You should know I ain't full of good ideas," She shrugged, regaining her balance to present herself to Price. "Please, sir. I-I'm good with any gun and can fight like any man. I want to get Kiera back as the rest of us do. She'd do it for me." 

Price sighed, glancing at both Ghost and Soap, watching the Scot subtly nod, knowing she was perfectly capable of handling herself. "That she would, love, but she also has authority in situations like this. I don't want a civilian getting in the line of fire, especially with AQ." 

"Then you shouldn't have let me on this chopper, sir. Please, I'll get one of 'em hard hats and put on a vest. I'm ready." 

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you." I already can't fathom the thought of something happening to Kiera on my watch and I'll be damned if I'd let it happen again.

Teeter huffed, a frown splaying across her face as she walked to sit on the bench of the chopper, Soap cupping the back of her head before he walked to the exit door of the helicopter, Ghost alongside him as they exited the unit with Price.

"Hey, old man." 

"Farah," Price smiled. "Thanks for the assist."

"We share a common enemy."

"And a friend in need. Are you ready?"

"All set. See you down the road." Farah nodded.

"Cover your ears." Gaz nodded towards Teeter, watching her nod before she did as directed, flinching when Gaz pulled the trigger, the echo from the M4's fire filling the cabin of the helicopter.

Bullets rang throughout the desert air as Farah's team as well as Price and his men made quick work on multiple AQ vehicles with the assistance from Gaz in the helicopter. Out of curiosity, Teeter steadily made her way to the opened exit door to view the carnage below her, her eyes frantically searching for Soap, seeing that he and Ghost were now on a platform-bed semi with Price, the vehicle moving up into the convoy. That's a long way down if we fall...

Out of nervousness, she gripped the safety harness to remind herself that she wouldn't be falling without a serious blow. "Teeter! Stand back. They're firing RPGs at us." Gaz shouted.

"W-What's that?"

"Something you don't want to be in the way for. Get back and hold on!" 

Just as Teeter nodded to follow Gaz's direction, the helicopter jolted upwards followed by a near complete rollover, causing both Teeter and Gaz to fall out of the helicopter, the sound of Teeter's scream causing Soap to nearly get himself shot for losing focus. "Fucking Christ!" 

"Hold on to me!" Gaz grunted, keeping her close to him to keep her from getting hit by a car as their heads were dangling dangerously within a few feet from the concrete. 

"Fuck! What do I do?!" She cried, closing her eyes before feeling the after affects from an inferno against her face. "Give me a gun!" 

"Well, I would if I didn't drop it!" He grunted, feeling his waist for his holster that housed his pistol, ensuring it was loaded before taking rapid shots towards the next closest AQ vehicle.

"Teeter, reach to my belt and get another clip. Running low on ammo." 

"O-Okay!" 

"Guess you have no choice but to be in the fight now!" 

"If our lives weren't on the line right now, I'd say this was fun!" She scoffed, gripping the rope to keep herself upright as she handed Gaz the new clip. "Hey! Flatbed truck coming up fast. Four in the back. Should he get us over it, and we cut ourselves free?"

"Working on that plan," Gaz grunted, desperately trying to steady his breathing to fire as accurately as possible. 

"I'm cutting us loose. Hang on!" 

"I ain't got much choice!" 

With a harsh thud, both Teeter and Gaz landed on top of the convoy's truck, Gaz making quick work to take control of the vehicle, instructing Teeter to climb into the cab on the passenger side. "Looks like they left us a little gift!" She snickered, pulling the Kastov from the floorboard. 

"Do you even know how to use that thing?" 

"Never shot one of these, but I know how to shoot a gun. Ye aim it and pull the trigger, ain't that hard. There's a whole bag of mags here too, we're ready to light it up." 

"Soap is going to kill me." 

"Hey, it ain't like ye made me fall with you. Besides, baby thinks it's hot to see me all wriled up. He won't be able to get enough." 

"Bloody hell," Gaz scoffed, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. "I'll take your word for it. Get that vest from the backseat and helmet. They'll give you some type of protection. 

"Fuck!" Soap shouted aloud, crouching down to reload his weapon while Ghost kept watch on his six.

"Jump, Teeter!" Soap shouted, extending his arm for her to grasp onto before Gaz made his leap, ensuring that she went first. 

"Baby, I ain't a frog!" 

Ghost breathed a chuckle.

"You are today! Move!" 

He caught her by her elbow, pulling her to safety before Gaz did the same.

"Good to see you two in one piece," Price sighed. "Gaz, take the grenade launcher. Teeter, stay low and keep your head down."

"Sweet heat, Captain. What's the word?"

"We're getting close to Kiera and Laswell, so they're changing tactics."

"How so?" 

"We were chasing them, now they're gonna chase us."

"Let 'em try, sir. Let 'em bloody try."

Price pointed, "Check rear - it's Farah."

"Gang's all here. Let's bring this home!"

"Captain! Al Qatala's coming back this way - they'll try to box us in!"

"Not if we can help it! Here they come! Farah, watch it!" 

With excessive firepower and force, the convoy eventually moved to be offroad, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. With another quarter hour of intense gunfighting as well as shooting off a missile launcher and bomb drones, the black SUV was in sight. Ghost's grip tightened on his M4 before he jumped down from the cargo truck, both he and Soap peering to the right for cover while Price and Farah went to the left, Gaz being the first to make it to the SUV and opening the door after the gunfire seized. 

Gaz stood back as Kate held the last AQ in a chokehold, refusing to loosen her grip as she held a personal grudge against him, tears blurring her vision as she acted out of pure rage, Price's pleas of letting him go so that he could finish it sounded as if she were underwater. "Kate! Move!"

"No! He's mine!" She grunted. 

Kiera managed to open the door on the opposite side, distraught of the events that happened as well as being dehydrated. She fell to her side on the dirt below, her mind racing as well as begging to be idle. Her knees curled towards her chest as she forced herself to steady her breathing. She failed to hear the heavy boot steps approaching her, a gentle hand grasping her shoulder and gently rolling her to her back before that same hand gently grasped her chin, his fingers splaying against her cheek. She didn't open her eyes to look at him, nor could she, but she knew it was Simon - knew by his gentle touch and radiating warmth through his gloves. 

She knew she was safe. 

"Kiera? Can you hear me?" 

She didn't respond. 

"Fucking hell," He grumbled, slinging his rifle around to his back before forcing his arm under her knees and one securing against her back. "We'll need a fucking medic." 

"I'm on it, L.T." Soap nodded, requesting assistance through his comm while he and Teeter followed Ghost onto the helicopter, frowning at how he didn't notice what all that happened. 

"Kate, it's over." Price assured her, his face flooding with concern at her anxiousness - something he had never seen before in their work together.

"It's a family reunion."

"Wouldn't miss it." Gaz commented. 

"Farah." 

"Nice moves, Laswell. Are you okay?"

"To say the least, but we're alive. That's what matters."

"Well, we're in Al Mazrah. We need to get somewhere safe - now. We'll have a medic on standby." 

»»-------¤-------««

Simon clasped his balaclava between his fingers, keeping a sharp gaze on Kiera as she began to regain her composure and bearings, continuously wondering how and why she ended up on a helicopter. "Simon?" 

"I'm here, love," He assured her, patting the top of her thigh. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm not sure? I thought we had just said our goodbyes? You know - to go home?" 

"That you were, but that was two days ago. Unfortunate things happened, but you're safe now. We have a medic waiting for you and Laswell." 

"What happened?"

He sighed, "I'll tell you later. For now, just worry about trying to relax until we land." 

He couldn't find himself to tell her what he visibly saw, his heart breaking at the thought. He saw the forced rip in the groin of her trousers, his anger boiling at the thought of someone taking advantage of her - again. I failed to keep a promise to her. 

He immediately began to blame himself for it.

»»-------¤-------««

Once at the base, it would be compared as an act of congress to get Simon away from Kiera. He stayed with her the entire time she was in the medic's tent, supplying her with water every time she asked for it. 

"Good news," The medic sighed, entering the tent. "Babies are just fine. No blunt trauma to her abdomen. I could only do a normal ultrasound, but both heartbeats are there." 

"Thank God." Simon breathed, looking over to see Kiera's eyes flutter shut as she still fought exhaustion. 

"Uhm, there's something I need to inform you about-"

"Not here," Simon cut him off. "Tell me outside. I don't want her to get anxious."

In a way, Simon knew what the medic was going to say, but he also gave himself the benefit of the doubt that his diagnosis would be something that potentially wouldn't affect her mentality. 

Either way, he didn't want her to hear it if it was true. 

"Okay. This way."

Once outside, Simon crossed his arms over his armored chest. "According to multiple witnesses as well as my diagnosis, I-I'm afraid to inform you that I found blunt force to her-" 

"Are you implying that she was assaulted?" 

The medic nodded, a frown plastering on his face. 

Simon turned his back to him, his breathing shallow through his nose as his hands combed through his hair, his fingers twining with each other, seeing red as the nearby truck looked like a desirable target for a fierce thrust of his fist. "God-fucking-dammit!" He shouted. 

"It's likely that she doesn't remember-"

"Oh, she'll remember," Simon scoffed. "She may not remember it now, but she will. Every bit of it." 

"I understand, Sir. We've arranged a flight back to the States to a base where she will be flown back home." 

"H-How did you come up with this conclusion?" He asked, desperate to find a way for it to not be true. 

"I'm afraid I shouldn't go into explicit detail for your sake, Sir. She wasn't the only one I had to investigate this way unfortunately."

"I need to know," He huffed. "But I'm not going to ask her."

He nodded, removing his clipboard to present his report as well as external photos for a criminal investigation if needed. 

Simon hesitated before he took the clipboard, sighing as he reviewed the report, his knuckles turning white under his gloves. 

Deep bruises on her hips, tearing of her anal cavity, nylon burns against her thighs, and prominent bruising around her neck and shoulders. There was more than one who did this to her. "I know this is a lot to look at-"

"Bloody right," He grumbled. "I don't know if I can stay and watch her leave again." 

"They might grant you three days of leave for a case such as this. However, given the time it'll take for you to return to the States, your three days will be up by the time you got there."

"I don't care. As long as I know she's safe." 

"I can speak to your Captain. He'll come to you with the decision." 

"Thanks." 

"I'll give you and her some space. I'm...I'm sorry-"

Simon didn't respond. Instead, he retreated into the tent that housed Kiera, taking a seat by her side as she slept, unaware that Simon's presence woke her up. "Simon?" 

"I'm here, love. I'm not going anywhere." 

"When are we going home?" 

"Soon. I promise."

[story-weavr]

A Hidden Story

Notes:

Inspired by The Bot Who Went Through Time by Commoncoral

This can be read as just TFA or a mixed universe.

The Autobots led by Optimus Prime were in a covert Autobot lab where experimentation for an energy source was underway. Due to the dangerous nature of the experiment, a secluded and hidden location was chosen for a lab.

Unfortunately, the Decepticons found the lab and attacked!

During the battle, an explosion occurred.

Waking up, Optimus Prime found himself on a Cybertron of the past. Unfortunately, he was smack-dab in the territory of Tarn. The most dangerous city-state on Cybertron, where crime, corruption, & brutality go hand-in-hand.

Knowing the danger he was in as well as the risks, Optimus opted to disguise himself with a new body and identity: Convoy.

He quickly found work where no one really cared who you were: Mining.

Luckily, he quickly made friends with another miner, Dion. He showed the young Convoy the ropes, and the two quickly became inseparable.

One day, a cave-in occurred. Convoy, furious at the foremen’s disregard for the trapped miners, immediately started the rescue effort. He, Dion, & others managed to save them.

The group was punished with cut pay and overtime for the resulting effect on production. Convoy, for leading it, was put on half-rations.

Later, at his hut in one of the miner camp-towns just outside the Tarn mines, Convoy received visitors. All but one were the mechs his actions saved.

Terminus, unfortunately, could not come with the others due to his damaged legs. Instead, he sent his son, Kilotron.

Kilotron was a gentle and noble soul within an intimidating frame. The mech was often visited by those who wanted him to work as a thug or a gladiator.

But Kilo was uninterested; he wouldn’t risk dying or killing.

After becoming closer with Kilo, Convoy later learned the young miner’s dream: to become a writer. One who could help, not just Tarn, but all of Cybertron to become better.

Something his grandmother, a Tarnian politician, failed to do. This resulted in her becoming a mining prisoner, and her son born in mining.

Over a short period of time, Convoy and Kiltron’s feelings became that of love. At first, Convoy tried to keep it platonic. But he started to lose hope that he’d ever return to his time.

One day, another cave-in occurred. This time, Convoy and Kiltron were trapped alone.

When they dug themselves out, something terrible greeted them. Among the casualties, Dion and Terminus had passed.

Convoy knew then: he or Kilo could die at any time.

That day, Convoy and Kilotron moved in together. In mining culture, they were now Conjux.

Time passed. Kilo moved up the miners’ informal ranks becoming a Head for a large team. Convoy had been reassigned to logistics and was now expecting their first sparkling. The two had become respected figures in their camp-town. They often met with other leaders to better organize the mine work and supply distribution.

One day, however, something terrible happened. The city-state of Vos, eternal arch-rival of Tarn, sent a squadron of bombers to various mining sites on the outskirts of Tarn. The plan was to take the mines for Vos by hitting the headquarters that were always a fair distance from the valuable mines themselves.

Unfortunately, Convoy and Kilo’s camp-town was right next to one of the targets.

Kilotron was still deep in the mines with his team. Convoy was surrounded by flames and panicking miners and civilians. He helped as many as he could escape.

Unfortunately, he himself became trapped. All hope seemed lost.

Then a portal appeared in front of him. Ironhide screamed Optimus’s name. Desperate, Optimus Prime ran through the flames and passed through.

Back in an Autobot lab, surrounded by old familiar faces, Optimus screamed in Ratchet’s familiar arms.

His Conjux was gone. Possibly dead in the attack. If not, he would die by the mines, Tarn’s corruption, the Vos’s attacks, by the Decepticon-Autobot war.

But worse than that, if Kilotron did survive, he’d be completely alone.

And the only thing Optimus had left of his beloved… was the sparkling he carried. The sparkling he would name Windblade.

When Kilotron finally came out of the mines, all he wanted to do was go straight back to Convoy and their unborn sparkling.

When he got out however, he was greeted by a group of miners led by one of the other camp leaders.

What he said caused Kilo to drop his tools and take off running. He ran, and ran, and ran.

Until finally he reached the hill that overlooked his home.

Where a dilapidated but lively camp-town once was, there was only smoking ruin and the smell of ash.

Kilotron let out a ROAR. One of grief… and rage!

That day, Kilotron… the miner… the writer… the mech with a family…

Was dead.

A short time later, Tarn’s infamous gladiator circle was shaken by the criminal lord Cryotek’s newest talent!

Megatronus!

[bestworstcase]

ALSO. IRRELEVANT SIDEBAR. i seem to be the only person in the fandom who a) took it as a given that ‘the girl who fell through the world’ was at least a century old and thus predated the great war by at least two or three decades, and b) didn’t think the author’s identity being unknown was odd enough to require an explanation.

and i’m wondering now if the xkcd average familiarity curse Got Me bfgrbxcjk

alice’s adventures in wonderland! that book is One Hundred Fifty-Eight Years Old. it was published in november 1865. through the looking glass was published six years later in december 1871. CAN YOU NAME THE AUTHOR?

if you answered “lewis carroll,” bzzt! incorrect!

(well, correct in that the books were indeed written under that pseudonym BUT I MEAN HIS REAL NAME.)

alice’s adventures in wonderland is a hundred and fifty-eight years old. it has never been out of print. it’s been translated into a hundred seventy-four languages and it’s one of the best known works of nineteenth century english literature in the world. it’s been adapted many, many times for stage and radio and film and video games. “retelling the true story of alice in wonderland” is like an entire niche fantasy YA subgenre; i could name seven different examples off the top of my head. it’s as close to UBIQUITOUS as it’s possible for a story to be in a world with seven billion people living in it.

and… in a world where the non-pseudonymous identity of the author is thoroughly documented and easily accessible via the internet, the average person who Fondly Remembers watching the disney animated film or having the book read to them as a kid doesn’t know that ‘lewis carroll’ was a pen name.

his real name was charles dodgson.

and the reason the average person doesn’t know that isn’t any kind of individual failing or whatever, it’s just that the book was published almost a hundred and sixty years ago under a pen name. the pen name is what’s on the cover. most people don’t go Looking for biographical information about the authors of books their parents read to them as kids unless they have a particular reason to be interested. such as high octane nerdery.

(i own the 150th anniversary edition of the annotated alice and have read it cover to cover multiple times. and i’ll do it again. i am an Owns Books About The Math In Wonderland kind of nerdy about alice.)

—the point. being. the real world has a lot of things going for it in terms of historical preservation that remnant does not, chiefly the absence of a Fuck Ton of monsters trying to eat everybody all the time and making international travel and communication horrifyingly dangerous on a good day. the CCTS has only existed for a few decades; before that, sharing information between kingdoms was matter of “send an armed convoy and hope they don’t get killed and eaten by The Horrors en route.”

so the scholars of remnant are at, to put it mildly, a serious disadvantage in terms of information being retained over time.

anyway. ‘the girl who fell through the world’ is established very clearly to be remnant’s equivalent of our alice’s adventures in wonderland, in that it is a quite old children’s story that became MASSIVELY POPULAR worldwide, to the point that nearly everyone alive has at least some familiarity with the plot, many remember it as a cherished childhood bedtime story, and the more bookish characters can quote favorite passages from memory.

which is to say, it isn’t just The Story is an allusion to the wonderland story. the book’s ubiquity is also modeled after alice’s ubiquity, and the lack of popular knowledge about the author’s real identity likewise takes its cue from the fact that in real life most people Don’t Know who charles dodgson is.

so!!!

it’s not at all unreasonable to think that ‘the girl who fell through the world’ is probably meant to be about as old as alice’s adventures in wonderland—about a hundred fifty years, which would mean lewis published it around sixty years before the great war even started. (he also presumably didn’t publish it as a child; if he was about the age dodgson was when alice went to print, this would have been around twenty years after the fact.)

and it’s also not unreasonable to think that lewis, like charles dodgson, published his book under a pseudonym. or anonymously, but given how certain jaune is that alyx wrote the book, even though it was lewis taking notes and lewis saying he would write the story for jaune to find his way home…

i’d put my bet on lewis having written his book as “A.L. [Surname].” A for alyx, L for lewis, a symbolic way for her to come home with him. but the girls upon discovering the ever after is real and alyx was real would of course think “oh, ‘AL’ as in short for alyx” and the use of initials is also ambiguous enough for jaune to worry his way to the conclusion that he did, after alyx poisoned him.

fast forward a century and a half or so in a setting with no internet for most of that and hordes of man-eating Nightmare Beasts inhibiting international communication and… yeah of course the Real Name of beloved children’s classic author A.L. Whoever isn’t common knowledge outside of academic and hobbyist carrollian-equivalent circles.

[hboww2rewatch]

Help Pick the Movie for Our 3rd Rewatch

Please read the movie descriptions below

A League of Their Own (1992) - American sports comedy drama film that tells a fictionalized account of the real-life All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL) during WWII. Dir. by Penny Marshall

Greyhound (2020) - The film is based on the 1955 novel The Good Shepherd, and follows a US Navy commander on his first assignment commanding a multi-national escort destroyer group of four, defending an Allied convoy from U-boats during the Battle of the Atlantic. Dir. by Aaron Schneider

Mudbound (2017) - The film depicts two World War II veterans – one white, one black – who return to rural Mississippi each to address racism and PTSD in his own way. Dir. by Dee Rees

Twelve O'Clock High (1949) - A tough-as-nails general (Gregory Peck as General Savage) takes over a B-17 bomber unit suffering from low morale and whips them into fighting shape. Based on a novel by the same name. Dir. by Henry King

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) - three United States servicemen re-adjusting to societal changes and civilian life after coming home from World War II. The three men come from different services with different ranks that do not correspond with their civilian social class backgrounds. It is one of the earliest films to address issues encountered by returning veterans in the post World War II era. Dir. by William Wyler 

The Monuments Men (2014) - An unlikely World War II platoon is tasked to rescue art masterpieces from German thieves and return them to their owners. Based on the 2007 non-fiction book The Monuments Men: Allied Heroes, Nazi Thieves and the Greatest Treasure Hunt in History. Dir. by George Clooney

Fury (2014) - A grizzled tank commander makes tough decisions as he and his crew fight their way across Germany in April, 1945. Dir. by David Ayer

Valkyrie (2008) - A dramatization of the July 20, 1944 assassination and political coup plot by desperate renegade German Army officers against Adolf Hitler during World War II. Dir. by Bryan Singer

The Cranes are Flying (1957) - A Soviet war drama that depicts the cruelty and the damage done to the Soviet psyche as a result of the Second World War, which was known in the Soviet Union as the Great Patriotic War. Dir. by Mikhail Kalatozov

Ivan's Childhood (1962) A Soviet war drama based on Vladimir Bogomolov's 1957 short story "Ivan" is the story of orphaned boy Ivan, whose parents were killed by the invading German forces, and his experiences during World War II. Dir. by Andrei Tarkovsky

The Great Escape (1963) Adapted from Paul Brickhill's 1950 non-fiction book of the same name, the film depicts a heavily fictionalized version of the mass escape by British Commonwealth prisoners of war from German POW camp Stalag Luft III in World War II. The film made numerous compromises for its commercial appeal, including its portrayal of American involvement in the escape. Dir. by John Sturges

[julias-74]

Emil Czech (Austrian, 1862–1929), "Der Christbaum (The Christmas Tree)", 1903.

Peter Vilhelm Carl Kyhn (1819 – 1903) was a Danish painter.

Korovin K.A. "In winter" 1894

"Winter" - 1914 Artist Julius Klever - 1850 - 1924.

Korobkina Diana (Russia b. 1980), Barns, 2010

Ivan Aivazovsky (1817 - 1900), Winter convoy on the way, 1857

[captain-price-unofficially]

A B-29 of the 9th BG/313th BW drops two parachute-retarded Mark 26 aerial mines during Operation Starvation, 1945. Eventually most of the major ports and straits of Japan were repeatedly mined, severely disrupting Japanese logistics and troop movements for the remainder of the war with 35 of 47 essential convoy routes having to be abandoned.

[zippocreed501]

...images from the lost continent of cult films, b-movies and celluloid dreamscapes

That's a Ten-Four! 70's Trucking movies

(when the counter-culture biker outlaws of the late 60's/early 70's gave way to the blue-collar big rigs)

White Line Fever (1975) Trucker's Woman (1975) Smokey and the Bandit (1977) Breaker! Breaker! (1977) Sorcerer (1977) The Great Smokey Roadblock (1977) High Ballin' (1978) Convoy (1978)

[calamitaswrath]

Cal Lucia plays Fire Emblem Path of Radiance: Closing Thoughts

Right then! Yesterday I finally beat Path of Radiance, after starting it. . . oh boy, about half a year ago. Mind you, not because I didn't like the game, but because for any Fire Emblem game I usually just need to sit down and take my time, which was not at all helped by me having to take a break because I was on holiday.

Anyway, full thoughts are gonna be under the break, short version is: loved it a lot, story-wise a rather standard Fire Emblem game that put a very nice amount of depth and thought into story beats that normally don't really get questioned any further; gameplay didn't stand out compared to the GBA FE games but had some very nice caveats.

I think I'll just start off with the gameplay, because I think I should be able to get through that one quicker.

In retrospect, the gameplay overall was remarkably similar to that of the GBA titles, with very little to set it apart. Which is not a bad thing, mind you! And the presentation was still distinct and nice. But the things that did set it apart were really nice. Almost everyone having the ability to shove, master seals being basically unnecessary since characters just automatically promote upon levelling up after level 20 and the whole bonus experience system were very much appreciated, and it's honestly a shame that these two games are the only ones that have them. Mounted units having the ability to still move after attacking I could take or leave, though it often got very annoying with enemies. What did really bother me though was just how absurdly long it took in the beginning of the game before the concept of the convoy was introduced. I had to toss a lot of weapons because a unit's inventory was already full. And speaking of that, what also really kinda bothered me was how you couldn't access the convey during battle, since I don't really think it adds to much to strategizing. Oh, and then there was the whole "objectives for bonus experience are always secret" thing. Fine and all if it's just a map where you just have to clear things quickly, and most of the time these objectives are obvious enough, but some actual clarity would've been much preferred. Mages having seperate weapon ranks for all types of magic meanwhile was just plain stupid. I think at the end of the game my Soren only had a B rank as his highest one, even though he was the only mage I used.

Now, for the story! Early-game, I really did love the whole family-like dynamics of Greil's mercenaries, and how Greil himself interacted with them all. I can easily see why people are so attached to this group in particular. That whole sense got a bit lost as things went along and the cast got way bigger though, which is a big shame. Base conversations really could have done a lot to alleviate that, but I think for the last ten chapters or so I didn't really see anyone out of Boyd, Oscar, Rolf, Rhys, Shinon or Gartrie. Speaking of base conversations, though! Those were a really cool concept. Games like Three Houses of course had something similar going on with you being able to talk to people in the monastery between battles, but that really felt rather tedious, plus. . . Byleth isn't really the best person to bounce off of. Base conversations on the other hand are really cool in the sense that they helped characterize Ike, but sometimes also showed interactions that went beyond just the character that was shown in the menu. Much like bonus experience, that's something that I'd really love to see in another Fire Emblem game. As for the story overall - like I said in the short version up at the top, the whole story did rather feel like a straightforward Fire Emblem plot at face value. Like, Evil Kingdom™ invades Good Kingdom™, rightful heir to the throne escapes, and has to fight ~25+ strategic turn-based battles in order to reclaim it. But the way it presented itself really did add a whole lot of nuance to the simple setup. The lord is a commoner, not everybody instantly rallies behind Elincia right away, and on seemingly every step along the way you get characters behaving as if the writers asked "yeah okay, but what would actually happen in that situation?". Maybe this felt kind of heavy-handed at times, but I usually enjoyed it - even if it often felt like it was specifically Soren who was the mouthpiece for this sort of thing. It helped add to his characterization, though. Since I mentioned Soren, though: I am somewhat curious just how intentional the common fan interpretations of Ike as gay and autistic were on the side of the writers. Of course it doesn't really matter at the end of the day cause death of the author and all that, but I still can't help but to wonder if the writers really did intend for this without spelling it out. Maybe I'll look into them once I'm done with Radiant Dawn as well. As for the cast overall, I honestly didn't really find any character that I didn't like. Like, sure, Makalov was a shitty person, but he was at least funny that way, and it made Marcia far more interesting as well. From the moment that I had to pick and chose who I bring along for any given map, I always struggled since I had a legitimately hard time picking. I really might just have to read up on all the supports that I couldn't get here. As for some of my favs, there'd be Lucia (as I am contractually obligated to say but also I just thought that she had a banger design and was really cool), Nephenee, Elincia, Ike, Soren, Titania, Mist, Jill. . . and I better just cut it off here, because otherwise I'll just list way too much of the cast. Amazing character designs, too! Not quite sure yet if these are my favs in all of Fire Emblem since Shadows of Valentia and Three Houses has some bangers as well, but it's easily up there. Last thing that comes to mind right now, the music. . . yeeaaah, that really wasn't it. The soundtrack overall was passable, but it really just pales in the stuff you get from the 3DS titles onwards. Say what you will about a game like Fates, but it has a banger soundtrack. For Path of Radiance on the other hand, the only track that really sticks out to me is this ass-trumpet music for Daien, and that's not for good reasons. The final map didn't even have its own theme! And I guess I gotta wrap up here cause tumblr doesn't like the post getting any longer.

[usaac-official]

345th Bomb Group B-25s head out over the China Sea in search of a reported Japanese convoy, May 1945